18.1 Introduction
Welfare economic theory seeks justification for government intervention in markets in the context of market failure and distributional issues.Footnote 1 In the absence of market failures, free market forces will lead to maximum welfare. This may, however, render a distribution of welfare that insufficiently reflects societal preferences. This situation can then require further redistributive intervention. An analysis of the market failures that exist in a specific industry or market can not only provide justification for government regulation or other kinds of intervention in general but also suggest which type of intervention or regulation is optimal from a welfare economic perspective.
For better or for worse, the creation, distribution, and consumption of news – be it in newspapers, on radio or television, or online – is subject to many different forms of regulation and intervention in almost every jurisdiction and throughout time. Interventions range from censorship to subsidisation and from protection of journalists to specific rules on market concentration and ownership transparency.Footnote 2 While many such rules do not stem from a welfare economic analysis, several market failures are at play in news markets. This chapter focuses specifically on the ‘public good’ character of news and the positive externalities associated with news production and consumption. The market failures in this arena constitute the core problem underlying private investment in news production. The question that this chapter addresses is how these market failures have been affected by the emergence of news aggregator platforms on the one hand, and the introduction of generative AI in news production on the other. In this chapter, a news aggregator platform is defined as ‘an online platform or software device that collects news stories and other information as that information is published and organizes the information in a specific manner’.Footnote 3 As Dellarocas and colleagues describe: ‘[c]ontent aggregators produce little or no original content; they usually provide titles and excerpts (hereafter called snippets) of the articles they link to. Examples of well-known aggregators include Google News, the Drudge Report, and the Huffington Post.’Footnote 4 Such aggregators have gained an increasingly important role in present-day news consumption.
The role of generative AI in news production is twofold. First, it concerns the use of generative AI tools by traditional news media to produce news articles from ‘raw data’ such as data on sports matches, weather forecasts, or stock market data. This will be referred to as AI journalism in this chapter. The replacement of human journalists by AI journalism, which is both ongoing and a development very much feared by many, is a timely issue and also the core topic of Chapter 21 by Martin Senftleben in this volume.
Second, generative AI can be used by companies outside the traditional news media to create news articles based on other news articles and information that the AI system has access to. By doing so, such AI systems serve as a new generation of aggregators, both producing and not producing their own content, as will be fleshed out in this chapter. This output will be referred to as AI news digests in this chapter.
The focus of the analysis is on the public good character of news and the positive externalities of news production. The question addressed in this chapter is: Have the consequences of these existing market failures become more prominent or have they been resolved by these developments? Based on this analysis, the chapter discusses how this informs public policy concerning these developments. By doing so, this chapter takes a welfare economic perspective, which for reasons of scope is necessarily a bird’s-eye view.Footnote 5
This chapter is structured as follows. Section 18.2 discusses the public good character of news and the positive externalities associated with news consumption, and analyses the implications these have for investment in news production. Section 18.3 analyses how the growing role of news aggregator platforms and generative AI affects factors. The concluding Section 18.4 discusses potential remedies.
18.2 Externalities and the Public Good Character of News
News, whether published in a newspaper, on the radio, on television, or online, is primarily an information good. As such, it shares many of the economic characteristics of other information goods or data. Shapiro and Varian pointed out in their bestseller Information Rules that ‘[i]nformation is costly to produce but cheap to reproduce’.Footnote 6 In economic terms, information is characterised by relatively high fixed costs of production and low marginal costs of reproduction, or even (practically) zero marginal costs in the case of digital information. This implies that information goods need to be priced based on customer value – tailored to customers’ price sensitivity through specific discounts or premiums – rather than marginal or even average production costs, in order to recoup the fixed production costs.
18.2.1 News Facts as a Public Good
Two other important features of information are that by nature, information is non-excludable and non-rival.Footnote 7 The non-rival nature of information means that the consumption or use of a specific piece of information by one person or company does not affect the use by another: it cannot be ‘used up’. If a person watches or reads the news, it does not prevent others from watching or reading the same news.
Non-excludability means that access to (published) information via its copying and distribution cannot be controlled. Together, non-excludability and non-rivalry define a public good.Footnote 8 Private provision of public goods is usually problematic, primarily as a result of their non-excludable nature. Oftentimes, this means the government has to step in to provide such goods.
Of course, many types of information are in fact excludable. Keeping information secret or keeping access limited to a secure digital or physical environment is one solution to create excludability. While this may work for the Coca-Cola recipe and for data sets and algorithms, it does not work for information which must necessarily be exposed to create value, as is the case for works of art and literature and for news. From an economic perspective, copyright protection of literary and artistic works can be seen as a legislative intervention to make such works excludable, both in their physical form and in their digital form, and by doing so to create a potential market with room for private provision and for recouping investments.
Copyright protection applies to the free, creative choice of words – the journalist’s individual expression – forming a news article printed in a newspaper or online.Footnote 9 Recordings of radio and television broadcasts are also protected as intellectual property. The information itself, however – the news facts that are disclosed in an article or a broadcast – are unprotected.Footnote 10 Therefore, news facts possess two defining characteristics of public goods: non-rivalry and non-excludability.Footnote 11 With that public good character comes the perennial private investment puzzle for news.
18.2.2 Externalities of News
What makes the public good nature of news facts more pressing is that news is important in a democratic society. News consumption by an individual has benefits that stretch beyond that person. In economic terms, this is referred to as positive externalities of news consumption.Footnote 12 Chandra and Kaiser write: ‘Policymakers have long recognized that newspapers have a unique role in the civic discourse of a country, and have important consequences for informing the citizenry, encouraging electoral participation and providing a check on powerful forces in government and business.’Footnote 13
Arguably, there are positive externalities of news production as well. This argument relates to the aforementioned public good nature of news facts and the lack of intellectual property protection for facts as such. However, it focuses on the news production sector. While uncovering news facts may require substantial and long-term investments in research and sources, other news media are free to report on these facts themselves once they have been made public and can engage in ‘cream skimming’ by making selective investments in follow-up news production that repeats the facts and avoids copying of the individual expression used in the original news story.Footnote 14 In view of the positive externalities of news consumption, this is a good thing – the more media can report about certain news facts, the more people can learn about them – but it undermines the incentives to invest in news production, in particular when it involves costly investments such as foreign correspondents and investigative journalism.
Strömberg discusses the ‘mounting empirical evidence that the media play a key role in enhancing political accountability.’Footnote 15 One such piece of evidence is a study by Oberholtzer-Gee and Waldfogel, who find that Hispanic voter turnout in the United States increased by 5–10 percentage points in markets where Spanish-language local television news became available.Footnote 16 Strömberg concludes that ‘[a] number of surveyed studies find that an increase in media activity is associated with better policy outcomes, some of which use methods that reasonably convincingly identify causal media effects. There is some evidence that these media effects occur because the media transmit information to voters, which improves both the incentives and the selection of politicians.’ Next to such positive externalities of news consumption through better-informed voting behaviour, one may add the positive effect of informing others at the water cooler.Footnote 17 At a macro level, Parcu and colleagues cite graphs that show the striking correlation between the economic freedom of countries and their freedom of the press, and between the corruption index of countries and their freedom of the press.Footnote 18 More press freedom goes along with more economic freedom and less corruption. While proving causality in such analyses is difficult and effects may well run both ways, it remains relevant to acknowledge such correlations.
Going one step further, Ali argues that journalism, in particular local journalism, is not just a public good but also a merit good, which individuals should have access to regardless of their preferences and consumer behaviour.Footnote 19 His arguments for taking this more normative stance mostly coincide with the points made here about the positive externalities of news consumption.
18.2.3 Commercial Financing of News
As mentioned in Section 18.2.1, the public good nature of news facts, in combination with the lack of intellectual property rights over them, in itself tends to lead to underinvestment in news production. On top of that, positive consumption externalities tend to lead to underinvestment in the consumption of news, as consumers take these externalities into account insufficiently in their own decision making. In economic terms, this leads to a willingness to pay for news, both in money and in time, that is lower than is desirable from a welfare perspective. The demand curve for news, which news producers and news publishers have to engage with to recover their investments in news production, insufficiently reflects consumption externalities.
These observations are, however, not new. In fact, news media have been confronted with this private investment puzzle since time immemorial. Besides public funding or subsidisation, which will be dealt with in Section 18.2.4, there have been three main market-based mechanisms to address this issue.
The first mechanism is cross-subsidisation from advertising. The concept is simple: advertisers want their ads to attract attention and are willing to pay for access to places that have consumer attention. News media are one such place where consumers spend time on a daily basis. This enables news media to charge advertisers for access to attention and to use the receipts as a supplementary (or their only) source to cover their investments in creating news. As it is sometimes phrased by cynics: ‘The news is printed on the backside of the ads’.
Although advertising has been a staple ingredient of news media for ages, the underlying concept of a two-sided market, where news media serve as a platform enabling interaction between two groups of interest, consumers and advertisers, has only been theorised in the economic literature since around the start of this century.Footnote 20 A more recent overview applied to media markets is provided by Anderson and Jullien.Footnote 21 One factor that determines the outcomes in different settings is whether or not consumers multi-home: that is, whether they are loyal to one platform/news medium or combine many in their media diet. Another is the extent to which consumers dislike (derive disutility from) advertising. In particular in audio and audiovisual media, ads that cannot be avoided or skipped are likely to be perceived negatively by consumers, and the more consumers dislike advertising, the more the advertising side of the market will have to cross-subsidise the news consumers. In printed media, research is not conclusive about whether and to what extent consumers dislike ads.Footnote 22
The second is the friction of time. This is reflected in Shapiro and Varian’s bon mot: ‘Information is like an oyster: it usually has the greatest value when it is fresh.’Footnote 23 While there is no copyright protection of news facts, there is value in being the first to bring them. For as long as other news media have not started reporting about the same news facts, this grants the initial news medium short-lived monopoly power over the news item, which can to some extent be monetised by selling newspaper copies or access, or by attracting more viewers that allow for generating more ad revenues. Although this does not resolve the underinvestment caused by positive externalities of news consumption, it does to some extent – and for a short period – mitigate the public good nature of news facts.Footnote 24
The flipside of this mechanism is that reducing this friction will also change the proposition of investing in news production. This was the subject of the famous historical case International News Services c. Associated Press from 1918, in which Associated Press (AP) complained that International News Services (INS) was pirating its news items. INS claimed it purchased AP’s newspapers legitimately on the east coast of the USA. Exclusive news information in these papers was wired to the west coast so that INS could bring the news there simultaneously with AP. The Supreme Court of the United States ruled that this was a case of unfair competition and that AP’s news could only be used as ‘tips to be investigated’.Footnote 25 Although this case is no longer a binding precedent, it illustrates how a reduction of time friction is relevant to the business of news producers. By only allowing AP’s news to be used as leads for further investigation, the Supreme Court basically reintroduced the friction that the telegraph had removed.
The third mechanism used by traditional media is bundling.Footnote 26 Economic theory offers various motives for providers to bundle. For example, offering products that are often purchased together in packages can reduce transaction costs: payment and selection only need to be made once. It can also be attractive to bundle products that are complementary in terms of their utility value and where demand for one increases demand for the other, such as left and right shoes, or sushi and soy sauce. A third, intuitively less obvious reason for bundling is described in detail by Adams and Yellen:Footnote 27 bundling can be a very effective way of skimming consumer surplus when the preferences of individual consumers for the components of a package are negatively correlated or unknown. In many cases, bundling is then considerably more profitable than charging prices that maximise profits per component. Thus bundling general interest news, sports news, financial news, and fashion news in one print newspaper or one subscription can generate more revenues than selling access to these areas of interest separately.
18.2.4 Public Financing of News
Public funding or subsidisation was already briefly mentioned in the previous section. It follows from the public good character of news facts and the positive externalities of news consumption that some level of public financing or subsidisation of news production and news consumption will be welfare-enhancing. Also, one can think of public provision of news media as analogous to the public provision of other public goods.
Indeed, both direct and indirect subsidies for, as well as public provision of, news media are common practice in most EU Member StatesFootnote 28 and also outside Europe.Footnote 29 Parcu and colleagues discuss direct and indirect subsidies as means of state support for media companies in the European Union, as well as public provision of media.Footnote 30 As a form of indirect subsidy, they mention the reduced VAT rate that applies to (news) media in many countries. State advertising can also function as a form of state support for media.Footnote 31
Naturally, the hard question is what level of financing, subsidisation, or public provision is optimal, and how to implement this without weakening the incentives for private provision and recoupment of investments. Parcu and colleagues discuss various drawbacks and risks of public support mechanisms and public provision of news media. Importantly, selective subsidies or support for certain news media and not for others can distort competition in the media landscape. The same applies to public provision of news media in a market where there is also privately funded supply. This can make the business case for independent and unsubsidised news media even more problematic. Also, support can be used to gain undue editorial influence and thereby undermine the independence of news media. Public provision of news can raise similar issues concerning independence, or may even be perceived as an intervention leading to news that lacks independence.Footnote 32 One can add to these concerns the possible risk that public service television and radio funding may be poorly targeted, as the money can also flow to entertainment productions with no wider public value.
18.3 Disruptions by Aggregator Platforms and Generative AI
This section analyses how the rise of aggregator platforms and generative AI affect the analysis in Section 18.2 and in particular the three market-based mechanisms – cross-subsidisation by ads, time frictions, and bundling – that traditional news publishers have used over time to overcome the public good problem of news.
18.3.1 Disruptions by Aggregator Platforms
Aggregator platforms compete with news media for the attention of consumers with an interest in news. To the extent that consumers have a time budget for news that is (more or less) fixed, or insofar as consumers want to inform themselves about specific events, this implies that aggregator platforms will cause a substitution of consumer attention away from news media. Less time spent on traditional news media will lead to less advertising revenues for them, even if the aggregator platforms themselves do not run ads. If they do run ads, the effect on advertising revenues for traditional news media is worsened.
A potential opposite mechanism assumes that consumers’ time budget for news is not fixed and that aggregator platforms generate additional traffic to traditional news media websites, which they can monetise in the form of ad revenues. Note that this latter effect would likely enhance positive externalities of news consumption. By extension, aggregator platforms may direct consumers to news media that they are not aware of or would not go to spontaneously. By doing so, they can lead to more variation in consumers’ media diet, thus enhancing media consumption plurality.Footnote 33
In an experimental study, Dellarocas and colleagues primarily find evidence for the first, negative, effect on news publishers. They write: ‘the more information is provided by the aggregator, in the form of longer snippets and accompanying images, the more time users spend on the aggregator and the less likely they are to click through to original articles. One way of interpreting our findings … is that anything that aggregators display in addition to an article’s headline, decreases click-through rates.’Footnote 34 Furthermore, the study finds that snippets placed high in a topic group are more likely to be clicked. This gives aggregators ranking power over traditional news media.
In addition to enhancing competition for consumer attention and advertising budgets, aggregator platforms also unbundle traditional news media by selectively choosing and presenting ‘snippets’, typically consisting of a headline, a short excerpt and a link, based on their own algorithms and often making use of user data. This implies that the traditional strategy of bundling different types of news to maximise revenues is circumvented by aggregator platforms as well. Lastly, the time friction that traditional news media benefit from is also removed, in the sense that an aggregator platform can publish such snippets instantly once an article is published.
In sum, aggregator platforms undermine the three market-based mechanisms mentioned in Section 18.2.3 that news publishers have used over time to overcome the public good problem of news and recoup private investments in news production. At the same time, these aggregators do not make investments in news production themselves.
By doing so, aggregator platforms aggravate the downward trend in advertising revenues that has long plagued news publishers. Their ad revenues have declined dramatically in the past few decades in most developed countries, especially those of local news outlets,Footnote 35 in sync with the rise of the Internet and large online platforms. Note that a decrease in newspaper advertising revenues due to the emergence of an alternative technology is not uncommon. Chandra and Kaiser mention that in the United States, newspaper advertising revenues declined by 28 per cent between 1929 and 1941, linked to the mass introduction of the radio in the 1930s, while the introduction of television in the 1950s led to a further decline.Footnote 36
However, the current decline is different in two ways. First, it is a result of cannibalisation of ad revenues by media that themselves invest little or nothing in news production. Second, the decline appears to be of unprecedented proportions. In the United States, newspaper advertising revenues are reported to have declined by more than 80 per cent between 2000 and 2020: a drop from 48.7 to 8.8 billion USD.Footnote 37 In the EU (plus the UK), advertising revenues in newspapers and magazines fell by almost 60 per cent between 2010 and 2020.Footnote 38
A simultaneous – albeit slightly less dramatic – drop in paid subscriptions leads to a double dip in revenues. In the United States, daily newspaper circulation (print plus digital) in 2022 was about a third of its fairly stable level between 1960 and 1990.Footnote 39 In Europe, daily circulation declined by 23 per cent between 2015 and 2021. A steady growth in digital circulation could not make up for a sharper decline in print circulation.Footnote 40
18.3.2 Disruptions by Generative AI
A second and even more recent disruptive force comes from generative AI. As was mentioned in the introduction to this chapter, the role of generative AI is twofold. On the one hand is AI journalism: the use of generative AI tools by traditional news media to produce news articles, reducing the involvement of human journalists in the process of news production. In March 2025, the Italian newspaper Il Foglio took this to the extreme by publishing the first fully AI-generated (four-page) edition.Footnote 41 While one may have serious concerns about the effect this will have on employment for journalism and the very nature of journalism (see Chapter 21 by Martin Senftleben in this volume), from an economic perspective the use of AI by traditional news media is not a disruptive development in terms of market failure. As long as news media continue to make editorial choices, do fact-checks, and take editorial responsibility for their content, as the editor of Il Foglio did in their experiment – and which in the foreseeable future will require at least some involvement of human journalists – it can be seen as an innovation or tool that reduces the costs of news production at a time when efficiency gains are direly needed.
The second role of generative AI concerns its use by third parties to create news articles based on other news articles and information the AI system has access to: AI news digests. There can be various ways in which this may enhance or improve news consumption and by doing so contribute to the positive externalities of consumption. Think of a generative AI tool that one can ask to write a 2,000-words summary of today’s news, based on the websites of the Washington Post, The Times, the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, and Le Monde, and to read it out loud on one’s commute – a tool that one can subsequently ask to elaborate one of the items or to rephrase it in simpler language. Clearly, this can increase news consumption and comprehension, help reach new markets of news consumers, and tailor news in a way mass news media cannot. Different from the use of generative AI by news media to reduce production costs, this can alter the way in which news is consumed much more fundamentally and disruptively than aggregator platforms did.
There is no need to stress that this is hardly science fiction. In January 2025, Apple temporarily suspended an AI tool that provides short summaries of news stories because it was found to be inaccurate – hallucinating – in some of its reporting,Footnote 42 but it is likely to be only a matter of time before such start-up problems will be resolved. Online, there are already other tools on offer that claim to provide similar services. Bearing in mind that human journalists also make mistakes, there will be a margin of error for such tools that is acceptable for practical purposes.
These developments are likely to be even more disruptive than aggregator platforms for investment incentives in news production and by extension for traditional news media. Generative AI tools can harvest news facts that are not protected as intellectual property without any interest in the text of the article that is protected. Unlike aggregator platforms, AI news digests have no need to apply restrictions to the length of snippets to avoid violations of copyright. Instead, such tools can generate independently readable articles of any desired length. As long as they explain news facts in their own words – and avoid substantial copying of protected individual expression of source articles – no copyright infringement occurs. Therefore, the public good market failure will be more pressing than ever.
Some mitigation could be provided by access fees that traditional news media may charge to AI tools, but it is unlikely that such fees will be of any significance towards recouping the investment required for the production of news. Current news is often available via different sources, many of which do not have paywalls or other access restrictions, as a result of which news media will have limited negotiating power individually. In addition, and bearing in mind the positive externalities of news consumption, it would be socially undesirable if all news media were to place all their content behind paywalls.
To make things worse, the market-based financing strategies traditionally employed by news media will be further eroded by AI news digests. They will compete with news media for the attention of consumers and for advertising revenues even more fiercely than aggregator platforms. Meanwhile, time frictions that used to provide some short-lived monopoly power over news items will be negligible and bundling will be irrelevant. Combined, these effects will further undermine the investment incentive for news production.
18.4 Potential Remedies
As was noted in Section 18.2.3, the problematic business case for investment in news production, made even more problematic by the positive externalities of news consumption, is in itself not new. Public support for news production and public provision of news media were discussed in Section 18.2.4 as possible solutions. These have been around for centuries, despite their possible drawbacks in terms of market distortion and the risk of compromising the independence of the media. News aggregator platforms and emerging AI news digest tools are rapidly making this case for public support more pressing as they further erode the investment incentives in news production. Several authors have stressed that in particular local journalism is vulnerable to these disruptive forces.Footnote 43
Against this background, it is advisable to create public funds that different media can benefit from, or, where such funds already exist, to increase them.Footnote 44 Such funds should be managed by boards that are independent from political power to ensure preserving the independence of news media, should be platform-neutral and should be open to all parties that meet certain general eligibility criteria, in order to avoid market distortion.
Alternatively, subsidies could be directed toward consumers in the form of an individual news budget. While such a solution has the potential advantage of being demand-driven instead of supply-driven, it will have to answer the same difficult question of media are eligible for spending one’s news budget on, and which are not. A drawback is that such a solution is likely much more expensive to implement practically. As another alternative to subsidising news creation or consumption directly through funds, one could consider tax breaks or exemption from VAT in the consumer market. Again, the eligibility question of which media could benefit from this would need to be addressed.
Of course, funds or tax breaks will have to be financed by other sorts of taxes. It may seem natural to consider introducing levies or taxes on the use of aggregator platforms and generative AI tools for this purpose. However, some caution is warranted: in addition to raising money, such levies or taxes would make the use of these platforms and tools less attractive. To the extent that this would reduce news consumption, it would thereby also reduce its positive externalities.
19.1 Introduction
There is a lot happening in platform governance, with multiple legal measures and proposals in many jurisdictions. European Union examples include the Digital Services Act (DSA), the Digital Markets Act, the Strengthened Code of Practice on Disinformation, the Artificial Intelligence Act, and the European Media Freedom Act (EMFA).Footnote 1 While these measures offer much to analyse and critique,Footnote 2 it is worth considering some broader points related to public communication: namely, ways in which infrastructures underlying public communication have changed; how that changes journalism’s role within public discourse; and the regulation of opinion power. While EU developments partially address these changes, it remains unclear how to pursue goals for the sustained plural public speech that has long been sought for democratic governance. A particular challenge is sustaining what journalism did (or was imagined to do) in mass media contexts for public debate in general.
Journalism’s role in opinion formation has reduced, and the role of platforms has grown.Footnote 3 Major platforms ‘shape public communication and distribute attention’ through their ‘architectures, algorithmic amplification, and content moderation’,Footnote 4 and they do so with values, scale, and speed quite different from past public speech. Public communication is being ‘privatised according to the logic of an attention-based business model’,Footnote 5 and platforms are affecting opinion power in ways that do not appear to support democratic governance.
My focus here links to a long interest in freedom of expression and its relationship with public communication and opinion formation. It is an interest in pluralism, which draws from but also goes beyond historic legal examples. I outline my approach to pluralism briefly in Section 19.2. Section 19.3 sketches certain changes in the infrastructure underlying public speech, particularly the role of journalism within it. Then Section 19.4 considers how a journalistic-editorial role was presumed to exist, and was relied on, in ideas of democratic public speech. Sections 19.5 and 19.6 examine points from the literature about how platforms might serve a speech-related function that would resemble the past role of journalism – even if that past role was idealised. Several challenges are considered, particularly in relation to news recommender systems. Section 19.7 considers coding journalistic norms, which have traditionally focused more on items of speech – a newspaper report, a current affairs segment, and so forth – into automated processes that are applied at huge scale and speed. The challenge is at the least highly demanding. The coding of such norms, if achievable at all, entails a transformation in public speech and a challenge to existing understandings of democratic opinion formation. And the same is true if journalistic norms remain uncoded or unencodable. Public speech is changing.
Much of what is discussed in this chapter could be extended by closely examining recent European developments such as the DSA and the EMFA. The DSA, for example, considers systemic threats to fundamental rights including freedom of expression and media pluralism,Footnote 6 while the EMFA contains numerous provisions that have some resemblance to the requirements for democratic free expression and public speech that I will discuss in what follows.Footnote 7 These include provisions related to editorial independence, ownership transparency, the adequate funding and independence of public media, ownership concentration, and states’ obligations – including positive obligations – to ‘ensure framework conditions are in place’ to safeguard audience rights to plural, editorially independent content ‘to the benefit of free and democratic discourse’.Footnote 8 However, the EMFA is centred on institutional media rather than the wider infrastructure that underlies public speech. There are complex questions about the combined effects of the EU developments on that wider infrastructure, along with many uncertainties about how the multiple measures relevant to democratic freedom of expression will operate.Footnote 9 While such issues warrant future attention, my interest here is more conceptual than technical. In part, this is because I suspect that a conceptual analysis may have continuing value as public communication continues to evolve. While the European Acts may well be ‘the beginning of a new era’ of EU regulation,Footnote 10 my focus here is on what is required for communicatively legitimate democracy in the changed era of communication.
19.2 Sustained Plural Public Speech
I have previously examined aspects of law’s support for pluralism and its links with free expression, in particular links with the freedom’s positive dimensions.Footnote 11 My analysis has mainly concerned mass media contexts, but it need not be limited to that. I labelled what is wanted in an idealised, communicatively legitimate democracy as ‘sustained plural public speech’. It is a pluralism ‘plus’, which extends and modifies common discussions of media pluralism. In shorthand form, it involves media with
structural diversity of organisations, people, funding, and content; with
independence from domination by political and economic interests;Footnote 12 and with
transparency about ownership, control, and content.
This sort of sustained plural public speech is only ever reached in part, but elements are seen in legal interpretations of expressive freedom in various jurisdictions, including German and French constitutional law and the European Court of Human Rights.Footnote 13 They also emerge from decades of political theory, media studies, and legal writing.Footnote 14 While limited examples exist in law, the rationales underpinning them suggest that there is more to the freedom and that law should go further to support democratic freedom of expression. Structural diversity with real independence and transparency are important parts of what free expression in the service of democracy needs. While representative democracy has different inflections – liberal, republican, agonistic, and so forth – all current forms should have this diversity, independence, and transparency in the infrastructures underlying public communication. An explicitly elite-dominated democracy would be different, but I leave that aside. For present purposes, my interest is that the public speech imagined under this model has been sustained largely by journalism in the past, a point to which I return.
Positive dimensions of communicative freedom, as well as negative ones, are significant if democracy is to be a ‘democracy of expression’, where society has a voice, formulates judgements, and makes effective claims of government.Footnote 15 This requires ‘equal, substantive communicative freedom’.Footnote 16 While it has existed as an idealised model more than in substance, what is being sought – sustained plural public speech – remains a democratic goal for public communication. And it can be approached to a greater or lesser extent using freedom of expression principles. That is, the goal is necessary under democratic constitutions, but quite what role free expression plays in it can vary. Freedom of expression can be understood to require some state actions supporting the structural diversity, independence, and transparency noted here; it can be understood to allow such actions, or to prevent substantially such actions – for example, consider some interpretations of the US First Amendment.Footnote 17 My analysis tends towards the first approach, while work such as Ed Baker’s offers strong arguments for the second, calling for sympathetic judicial assessment of legislation aimed at supporting plural public speech.Footnote 18 I agree that courts should recognise that such legislation can support expressive freedom, but I suggest that in some instances they should do more to protect the plural public speech that a democratic constitution requires. In any event, questions about which constitutional actors do what to support expressive freedom are separate from questions of what communicative goals should be pursued in the first place.
There are two important points here. First, the two approaches noted here that require or allow state action to support structural diversity, independence, and transparency pursue the same result – something approaching sustained plural public speech – and call for constitutional actors of executives, parliaments, and courts to use a fuller understanding of expressive freedom than one focused mostly on its negative dimensions. Second, both approaches differ from the third one noted here – which substantially prevents such state action. In that approach, freedom of expression is understood as (almost) only a negative freedom against state restrictions on speech. Negative dimensions of this freedom are significant, but free expression also has positive, affirmative, active dimensions (many terms are used in the literature). These dimensions are significant for pluralism, among other things. If sustained plural public speech is a democratic imperative, being concerned only with expressive freedom’s negative dimensions means the freedom actually threatens democratic governance – it becomes a freedom that is rightly concerned with state domination of speech but leaves aside economic domination and the wider requirements of sustained plural public speech.
The first two approaches noted here involve audience interests in communicative freedom, as well as the commonly emphasised interests of speakers. For the audience, the issues are similar whether one concentrates on media freedom or individual freedom of expression. In relation to a freedom of reception,Footnote 19 there is a common interest in how the freedom supports democratic opinion formation, which links to pluralism. This means that analyses of democratic opinion formation can examine legacy media’s reception by audiences and the role of platforms as they relate to public speech. Platforms have a function that in some ways resembles mass media’s traditional role and, for audience interests in speech and opinion formation, media freedom has large overlaps with free expression. Media freedom is not only about the media as speakers; it is not only about the media’s institutional freedom. It is more than that; it includes a curated pluralism in the audience’s interests. This pluralism would not only support democratic opinion formation – and democracy is a useful focus here – but also could extend beyond news and commentary to encompass matters such as culture and identity.Footnote 20
Overall, democracy calls for sustained plural public speech with structural diversity, independence, and transparency, all aimed at supporting individual and collective opinion formation. I will add to that description later, but it suffices for now. The rationales for democratic free speech go further than many past analyses, and so should law for two related reasons. The first reason to go further concerns the meaning of ‘freedom’ in free expression – if the freedom is to be real or effective, it does not only involve the absence of restrictions. The need for real or effective rights is, for example, a central aspect of the European Court of Human Rights’ approach to positive freedoms.Footnote 21 While some readers may think the analysis here places too much within free speech and demands too much of it, I would suggest that negative approaches to freedom of expression place too little. They assume that freedom exists where speech is not restricted. The second reason to go further concerns how legal responses to the effects of platforms on public speech are limited if freedom of expression is only a negative freedom against state restriction. Under European law, the freedom is not only that.Footnote 22
19.3 A Shift in Journalism
My interest in this chapter concerns the changed role of journalism in supporting opinion formation and the growing position of platforms in shaping public communication. Let me sketch what I mean, focusing on news media for simplicity. In the past, something like the following existed, or was at least presumed to exist.
A media infrastructure that was largely national and local but with significant transnational content flows, which was comprised of varied organisations, missions, people, and funding.
Journalism or a journalistic-editorial function for news and commentary in each organisation, with relative independence from political and economic domination and meaningful influence over content.
Distribution and monetisation that were linked, with the flow of money largely mirroring the distribution of printed, audio, or audiovisual content. This aspect of public communication often disappeared into the background – as infrastructures tend to do – and was not a primary focus of analysis or debate.Footnote 23
Audiences that were understood to have a civic disposition, to varying degrees, who accessed and used content to form opinions on varied matters.
Legal support for pluralism came through measures such as regulating mass media structure via ownership limits; regulating for editorial independence; offering direct and indirect state aid to media organisations, especially print; and creating public service media. Such measures are part of many jurisdictions’ traditions of dealing with opinion power, even if challenges to their realisation emerge repeatedly.Footnote 24 While the term ‘opinion power’ appears commonly in German law and scholarship (and analyses influenced by that approach),Footnote 25 the ideas have wider currency.
In addition to laws affecting media structure, many jurisdictions had content-focused laws imposing obligations on broadcasters about local content, children’s programming, election broadcasts, and election advertising. There was comparatively little law about distribution, but issues arose with changes in media infrastructure, such as ‘must carry’ provisions for cable broadcasting or channel placement in electronic programme guides. There were also laws restricting content; some, such as those on defamation and copyright, significantly affecting public speech. Content-related laws often made allowance for the public and democratic role of media through defences or exceptions, or through the ways that general aspects of the law were applied to media workers and similar actors.
Changes from analogue printing to data-driven platforms underline the prescience of Ithiel de Sola Pool’s forty-year-old observation about free speech and communications technology: ‘In ways that cannot yet be precisely identified, the bottleneck for effective [content] monitoring and charging is migrating from reproduction to the continuing service function’; that function is centrally important in ‘the electronic era’.Footnote 26 As those words hinted, intermediaries now affect all the elements of media structure, journalistic-editorial function, distribution and monetisation, and audience actions and dispositions. Intermediaries are a ‘challenge to the positive media order’Footnote 27 that has been imagined and, in part, created in some longstanding democracies.
One notable area of change is distribution and monetisation. News journalism has become partially separated from its distribution and funding in a way in which it was not in the past. Then, concerns were often about keeping a separation between editorial and commercial (or ratings) aspects of media organisations. Those concerns remain but, in addition, media organisations producing news and commentary now do not control many aspects of content distribution as they did before platforms, and the media face substantial challenges to their traditional funding models. This is true for commercial media, with a huge percentage of advertising revenues having moved to platforms and related intermediaries, and for publicly funded media, with increasing pressures on public funding in many longstanding democracies. Both aspects are relevant to media independence, to ‘the ability to determine how news is produced, published, and distributed to the public’.Footnote 28 That is, these changes affect the shape of public communication and the distribution of attention. There is still a configuration of media structure, journalistic-editorial function, distribution, and audience that more or less resembles past formations, even if some of the differences are marked. But platforms, and ways in which media companies are dependent on them, call into question what could be called a presumption of journalism that has long underlaid expressive freedom and debates about it.
19.4 A Presumption of Journalism
Identifying a presumption of journalism is not to idealise some perfect form of journalism. In some contexts, news and commentary have provided real public benefit, and journalism has significantly shaped publics and political processes. There have also been clear weaknesses in journalism practice. The presumption of journalism does not involve some perfect form but refers to a model of content creation, curation, and distribution that, however imperfectly, aligns with public values – and, significantly for my purposes here, it is a model that has been presumed in many analyses of democratic free expression. The model has applied, in theory, across all the varieties of journalism. And there was a wider structure of public communication that allowed the model to be imagined, even if not to be fully realised.
Opinion power is sometimes analysed through a particular element of law or policy, such as media concentration law,Footnote 29 or through the creation, funding, and independence of public service media. Such elements are clearly relevant, but they are insufficient on their own for understanding opinion power. Many analyses have also assumed that a journalistic media underlies news and commentary and substantially shapes public communication. The assumption has been that a journalistic field exists – of the kinds understood to exist during the latter twentieth century in established democracies – and that journalistic-editorial decisions substantially (though not totally) influence content. And there have been important assumptions about audience attitudes and disposition, which are also challenged by platform-distributed speech.Footnote 30 The practices of journalism are often criticised – as being beholden to class interests and elite voices, ridden with discriminations based on race, gender, and more, or dominated by commercial and state powers – but the idea of journalism, of an editorial media, has persisted. Journalism has been assumed in the infrastructure of public debate and, to the degree it has existed, it has helped to make measures such as media concentration laws and public service media useful in controlling opinion power.
I have said that democracy calls for sustained plural public speech with structural diversity, independence, and transparency, to support individual and collective opinion formation. Something can now be added to that description concerning the assumption of journalism. The structural diversity, independence, and transparency that were supported (or should have been supported) by law was understood to result in the distribution of diverse media content that had been substantially shaped by journalistic-editorial decisions. Public communication was, to a large degree, journalistically curated speech. Media content was assumed to be plural across many dimensions and presumed to be received by audiences, partly due to the limited range of content that was then available. Source diversity was thought to lead to exposure diversity. Journalists, editors, and producers continue to exist, even if in many places they are fewer in number and have less funding. Journalistic-editorial decisions continue to shape media content, but there is an overlay of other actors that influence those decisions: intermediaries such as social media and other platforms. Media have far less control of their distribution to significant parts of their audiences, and commercial media are less able to monetise content through advertising.
If you accept that communicatively legitimate democracy needs something like sustained plural public speech – even if pursuing it has challenges – what about now? Public speech was, to a large degree, sustained by journalism. A journalistic-editorial role was assumed to exist and did exist in part. Debates about freedom of expression happened around the base of a journalistic-editorial role. And that base’s presence allowed some analyses to imply that expressive freedom only involved the freedom’s negative dimensions.Footnote 31 I would suggest that recent changes make those analyses even less tenable. Media were gatekeepers and framers of issues, focusing attention on particular matters in particular ways. They were doing all that quite imperfectly, and more of the structurally diverse, independent, and transparent media environment mentioned here was needed. Even so, the journalistic-editorial role was important in how public spheres were imagined and how they existed, to the extent and in the styles they did. Journalism was relied on for democratic public speech.
This role still exists, but it has changed along with the context in which it operates. More actors are relevant, and the once relatively independent position of journalists and editors is being constrained. Media organisations are dependent on platforms in multiple ways.Footnote 32 Publishing is becoming ‘platformed’ and ‘some news organisations have almost no control over the distribution of their journalism because they publish primarily to platforms defined by coding technologies, business models, and cultural conventions over which they have little influence’.Footnote 33 In order to gain audience attention through platforms, media organisations produce somewhat different items, covering different issues with different angles. And journalists and editors are less autonomous than they were. They were always subject to pressures, but now different actors are influencing the content produced, distributed, and received by audiences.
It is not new that a social institution shapes public communication and focuses attention. That role was substantially taken in the past by media, which relieved various other instruments – for present purposes, much media law and policy – of doing more in relation to content. Law shaped media structures and imposed certain positive obligations on content (generally on only some types of organisation or media sectors, or in only some jurisdictions) and certain limitations on expression. Law then left journalism to act relatively autonomously within the broad aim of having an environment of sustained plural public speech. Democratic states were understood in some jurisdictions to have positive obligations to protect pluralism within that infrastructure of public speech. Their obligations should have been understood that way more generally. This is because media had an ‘orienting effect’ on public debate,Footnote 34 an effect that is now joined by, and partially subsumed within, platforms’ focusing of public attention. But the orienting effect of platforms occurs through curation that is subject to very different values from past forms and it operates in very different ways.
19.5 Sustained by Platforms?
Platforms’ effects mean that it is increasingly implausible to assume a relatively independent journalistic-editorial role that has a highly influential effect on public communication. Now platforms have a substantial role in focusing attention on content through amplification and moderation. Media organisations have long done something similar: ‘Whether a media institution amplifies certain messages or sources’ is editorial,Footnote 35 and platforms have some editorial-like roles that are not insignificant. However – and it is an important however – the distribution of content via platforms is data-driven for commercial ends, using data from and about users to generate engagement and more data, in ways that differ fundamentally from the model of institutional media.
Legal reforms such as those at EU level, noted at this chapter’s start, include efforts to support a journalistic-editorial role. That is understandable but also problematic because of differences in platform infrastructures of public speech. And it underlines the value of measures to support institutional media’s pluralism, reach, and independence. It might be thought that platform distribution could happen in some ‘neutral’ fashion, so that content and reach remained media-driven. But social media and search necessarily involve moderation, they necessarily amplify and relegate content – they are not neutral. In addition, more than media content is involved in platform-distributed speech, and platforms treat content systemically more than as individual items. Another possibility could involve creating a journalistic-editorial role within platform distribution, which would be challenging in technical, and perhaps legal, terms. It would fare best legally where there is understanding of freedom of expression’s positive and negative dimensions, and of the freedom’s relevance for audiences as well as speakers. The idea might be pursued by democratic recommender systems or public-media-style intermediaries.Footnote 36 In Martin Moore’s words: ‘Democratic governments need to recognize that dominant technology platforms will never adequately perform certain functions of the public sphere – most notably during election campaigns – and create alternative public service digital public spheres.’Footnote 37 However, states are limited in creating counterpowers to dominant platforms because states are also dependent on platforms for public communication.Footnote 38 In other ways, governments co-opt platform power to their own ends, ‘view[ing] those firms as potential deputies for their own exercises of power’.Footnote 39
As noted in the introduction, the EMFA responds in part to platform effects. Article 18 addresses some aspects of how very large online platforms (VLOPs) treat the content generated by media service providers, seeking to create ‘a privileged status for traditional media’.Footnote 40 In summary, the Article provides special protections for media service provider content when a VLOP intends ‘to suspend’ the provision of its service for the content or ‘restrict the visibility’ of the content ‘on the grounds that such content is incompatible with its terms and conditions’.Footnote 41 Before acting, the VLOP must provide reasons to the media service provider and normally allow twenty-four hours for a reply. Where media service providers believe there have been repeated and unjustified restrictions or suspensions, Article 18(6) provides for ‘meaningful and effective dialogue’ conducted ‘in good faith with a view to finding an amicable solution, within a reasonable timeframe’ to end the restrictions or suspensions and avoid future ones. Actions taken in compliance with DSA Articles 34 and 35 about systemic risks are exempt from EMFA Article 18.Footnote 42 These provisions illustrate the flexibility or discretion that the EMFA appears to give to platforms.Footnote 43 Among other things, there are questions around what amounts to suspension or restriction due to incompatibility with terms of service, compared with general moderation practices,Footnote 44 as well as doubts about quite what the provisions for dialogue will produce in practice. These provisions illustrate the early commentary, which finds that at least parts of the EMFA may be best understood as containing ‘important and laudable policy goals’ with unclear enforceability: ‘many rules are formulated with wide margins for manoeuvre’ and ‘supervisory and law enforcement instruments are only provided … to a very limited extent’.Footnote 45 Overall, this is an attempt to protect journalistic content and its distribution, rather than an attempt to think about moderation as an editorial-like activity with editorial-like effects on public speech.
In some analyses, journalism or editorial ideas about moderation are explicit. For example, a twenty-two-author multidisciplinary academic manifesto in support of diversity in news recommendation argues that because news recommenders extend traditional editorial roles, recommenders should promote public values and have a suitable governance framework.Footnote 46 Other research examines news recommenders’ democratic roleFootnote 47 – which I read here as their editorial role – or notes how platforms are moving closer to exercising ‘editorial selection’.Footnote 48 These ideas are implicit in other proposals,Footnote 49 with some focusing on how platforms affect the ability of journalists and editors to exercise editorial judgement as they otherwise would.Footnote 50 In short, news recommenders driven by public values would mirror something that, theoretically at least, was previously done by journalism. While some such measures appear possible under current European initiatives, there are real doubts about whether they will emerge, even if they are technically achievable.Footnote 51
19.6 News Recommenders
News recommenders can be used at two broad levels at least: by media organisations and by platforms. My interest here is in the latter. Or more precisely, it is in the fact that platforms’ automated decision-making is inevitably a form of news (and other content) recommendation – one based on data-driven engagement, which unsurprisingly promotes targeted divisive and socially harmful content. This raises questions about what democratic free expression suggests should be done about platforms’ role in public speech.
A two-part analysis of how to ‘democratise algorithmic news recommenders’ offers some suggestions.Footnote 52 Jaron Harambam, Natali Helberger, and Joris van Hoboken consider news recommenders at the media organisation level, aiming to provide choice to individual audience members. As their study notes, wider aspects of recommendation could also be considered; I will come to that soon. The basic idea is that media organisations could deploy multiple ‘algorithmic recommender personae’ with users being able to choose between them and change their choice as they wished. Normative analysis suggested five personae, each name indicating the prioritised content: ‘the Explorer (news from unexplored territory), the Diplomat (news from the ideological other side), the Wizard (surprising news), the Moral Vacationer (guilty pleasures), or the Expert (specialized news based on previous consumption)’.Footnote 53 These personae would ‘offer users an intuitive, one-click option’ to choose different recommendations ‘based on their specific mood, interest and purpose’.Footnote 54 In short, users could choose an editorial style.
The example seeks a journalistic-editorial function in algorithmic recommendation. Parallels could be drawn with traditional media outlets, each having different editorial lines focusing attention on different issues or presenting different angles on the same issue. Parallels also arise with different sections of one media outlet – think of weekend supplements or lifestyle pages that commonly remain in online newspapers.
A later experimental project extended the study, developing and evaluating eight personae with a small group of participants acting as illustrative audience members. This led to the eight personae being merged into three – Expert, Challenger, and Unwinder – in order to correspond with audience motivations. However, participants also thought some general news should be offered independently of their own choice of recommender: ‘Some news is simply in the “general interest” and should always be shown.’Footnote 55 Thus users would be able to choose one of three editorial styles for their recommendations, with each containing the same general interest news along with its own particular content.
That point mirrors one of seven ‘wish list’ items for democratic platform regulation proposed by Paul Nemitz and Matthias Pfeffer. It would require intermediaries to provide a non-personalised, rather than unmoderated, uniform selection of news:
[Regulation could] require windows on search and social networking sites to display a uniform, non-personalized selection of news of the day in news feeds to all users. It should also be possible to diversify these locally. The selection and compilation of sources could be based on competition between reputable, professional media sources, under the control of the self-regulatory bodies of the press or the state media authorities.Footnote 56
This suggests an approach that partially mirrors past mass media distribution. Could more be made of these ideas to develop and use editorial personae in distributing news and commentary? The two-part analysis outlined here indicates that personae could be used by media organisations, and that such options would appeal to audiences. But the idea is also interesting at the intermediary level, as Nemitz and Pfeffer’s comments suggest.
In theory, platforms could use one or more recommenders from a range of recommender systems. The systems would have qualities drawn from the analysis and wish list presented here, and they would be validated by bodies independent of political and commercial control, perhaps along the lines of self-regulatory bodies or independent media authorities suggested by Nemitz and Pfeffer.Footnote 57 The democratic significance of public speech suggests that platforms be obliged to do this, but that would raise a host of challenges that may make the idea infeasible. Some challenges for platform regulation are widely recognised. These include the relative lack of knowledge and power held by states and the EU compared with platforms; concerns about reinforcing platform power through regulating their role in communication systems; and questions about how far measures would actually limit harms to democratic communication from platform business models. Being free of political and economic domination are widely recognised as central in models of democratic communication, so leaving the business model largely untouched appears particularly problematic for recommender systems’ democratic effectiveness.Footnote 58 As Graeme Turner has noted more generally of digital media, ‘Monetisation has been the enemy of democratisation.’Footnote 59
19.7 Coding and Delegation
There are also challenges linked to the journalistic-editorial function that this approach would seek to approximate. Here, I note two examples concerning coding and delegation.Footnote 60 The first concerns what can be coded. Concepts must be translated into technical terms. Such concepts are inherently contested, and translating them is, to a greater or lesser extent, a transformation. Sometimes called the formalism fallacy, this issue is noted in studies of recommender systems. For example, an analysis of possible news recommenders for use by media organisations proposed five metrics from computer science to evaluate the systems: calibration (the degree to which content reflects user preferences), fragmentation (the degree to which the same stories appear for different users), activation (so users take action), representation (of ideas), and alternative voices (of marginalised groups).Footnote 61 Some of these metrics require precise identification and classification. Opinions need to be positioned relative to each other. Which opinions support or oppose a particular view, and in what ways? As the authors note, ‘This task is extremely complex, even for humans.’Footnote 62 Approximations could be made, such as using known politicians and political parties for the representation of ideas and voices. This resembles some existing regulation of electoral speech that provides broadcast time to political parties. But such approaches have clear limits, and the translation of concepts into code is something that necessarily renders the concepts in a different form. Overall, while the aim is to model theoretical concepts in a form that can be applied at scale and speed, the results are ‘merely approximations and … simplifications of very complex and nuanced concepts that have been contested and debated … for decades’.Footnote 63 In addition, contested and culturally varied journalistic norms have generally been applied to items of content in past media infrastructures. Coding those norms in automated processes that apply at almost unimaginably greater scale and speed is, at the least, a substantial challenge. Journalism involves forming opinions about content, and that is impossible to do in the same way for platforms, given those differences.Footnote 64 Public speech will be different under a ‘probabilistic’ model of curation.Footnote 65
One suggested approach to coding involves collaboration between journalists and developers to specify editorial values for news recommendation. Jonathan Stray suggests that collaboration could develop four types of technical artifact, involving metrics (what is measured), data sets (used in training or evaluating systems), feedback methods (to systems), and evaluation protocols (for recommender systems).Footnote 66 In his analysis: ‘It is necessary to commit to specific definitions, phrased in algorithmic terms, in order to build real recommenders.’Footnote 67 Not keeping journalists closely involved would mean the work ‘must be done by technologists, which is closer to delegation than collaboration’.Footnote 68 That is, important aspects of public communication would be delegated to those whose understanding and ambitions are to date very different than journalism. Of course, there are clearly ways in which that delegation has already happened. The idea of delegating recommendation, amplification, and moderation to platforms – and in that way delegating important aspects of the infrastructure of public speech – also raises questions about the model’s plausibility for democratic self-government. ‘Relying on computational models that even AI scientists cannot really understand is … in tension with genuine collective self-determination’,Footnote 69 and this raises queries about democratic states meeting their obligations to support a system of public speech that serves opinion formation.
That returns us to freedom of expression. The approach to expressive freedom is moving, at least in part, to a systemic level more than focusing on specific items or categories of content. For example, think of the DSA and leave aside doubts and debates about its probable effectiveness.Footnote 70 The DSA requires very large platforms and search engines to assess and mitigate systemic risks posed by their systems. This includes risks related to illegal content; fundamental rights, including freedom of expression, media freedom, and pluralism; civic discourse and electoral processes; public security; gender-based violence; public health; minors; and people’s well-being. It is, on paper, an encompassing set of risks in relation to which ‘reasonable, proportionate and effective mitigation’ must occur, giving ‘particular consideration’ to effects on fundamental rights.Footnote 71 While there is a long tradition of thinking about a system of freedom of expression and the state’s responsibilities towards it,Footnote 72 concerns here involve the effects of distribution systems on content where obligations or even liability provisions might apply at the systemic level and not only in relation to content items per se. At the least, there are questions as to how to arrive at, and make operational, values in platform recommenders that could address such issues.
In the past, the actual content produced by a pluralistic mass media system with structural diversity, independence, and transparency was left to a journalistic-editorial function (within general obligations and limitations imposed by content-related laws). The model presumed that decisions were (largely) made at the level of items of content produced by journalists. Now, delegating part of that process to platforms seems implausible given the contested nature of the concepts involved, the scale and speed of moderation that platforms require, and the fundamental aims for pluralism. Even delegating it to multiple algorithms – a version of the editorial personae already discussed – leaves questions about how they would be developed, what values they would prioritise, how those would be operationalised, and how they would be overseen. One can imagine approaches that might work in part, just as one could imagine various models of democratic mass media system. But achieving democratic media systems in the past was highly challenging and only partially successful in any event. Doing something equivalent now, if it is technically possible, could support freedom of expression interests, especially audience interests, but it would need a sophisticated understanding of expressive freedom. EU law has not yet had to develop that; it shows some interesting signs, but more will be needed if the European initiatives are to support that sort of development.Footnote 73
19.8 Conclusion
In the past, media with structural diversity, independence, and transparency was imagined as producing varied, curated content that would reach audiences and support their own opinion formation. Now, media are dependent on distribution through major platforms for important parts of their audiences, and that dependence changes media organisations’ operations. Concurrently, platform infrastructures have changed the circulation of public speech more generally.
In terms of media organisations, having varied institutional forms, staffing, management, regulation, and financing would still help to support sustained plural public speech. Such measures should be pursued. However, even if they were largely achieved, there would be an overlay of decidedly non-journalistic platform distribution that does not show substantive concern for democratic values. In short, platforms do not have an interest in creating a democratically legitimate context for public speech: it is not their aim nor their financial model, and they lack a clear relationship to nation-states.Footnote 74 Rather, platforms ultimately moderate ‘in order to sustain themselves’Footnote 75 and to sustain user engagement and data extraction,Footnote 76 ‘not in order to deal with social problems’.Footnote 77 As Julie Cohen has noted, platforms are generally not concerned with opinion formation as such or with achieving some form of neutrality;Footnote 78 they are simply ‘giving users what [their] revealed preferences indicate that they want’ in order to sustain engagement and extract more data.Footnote 79 And they do that aiming to entrench their own positions.Footnote 80 Of course, one could imagine different platform operations, but it seems naive to expect them to arise voluntarily. And that underlines the weakness in a purely negative approach to expressive freedom, which would leave state actions strongly curtailed but platforms free to moderate as they saw fit, as in the current US approach. It means that law applying limitations or obligations to platforms’ moderation would generally be judged as infringing platforms’ own free speech.Footnote 81
Through these developments, opinion power has changed. There has been ‘a shift over who controls the means to connect with the audience, as well as to define who the audience is and what the audience wants’.Footnote 82 Platforms and other intermediaries are increasingly important in terms of their opinion power, even if that has not been their primary aim. Platforms have reconfigured opinion power through overlaying journalism. This has changed who decides about public speech, how they decide, and what they aim for in doing that. The changes make positive dimensions of expressive freedom more important, including state obligations to regulate some actions of non-state entities that affect speech – such as platforms – both through restrictions on speech and through efforts to support an editorial-like role played by those entities. Overall, there is a greater need for states to act to support the conditions for democratic public debate, because a journalistic-editorial role cannot be assumed to do so within the existing infrastructures of public speech. As I have outlined, this poses real challenges, including challenges about the values that can be coded into recommender systems that operate at extremely high scale and speed, the comparative uniformity in recommendations that might result, and the questionable (often unstated) idea that meeting individual content preferences – for example, by giving recipients the ability to choose recommender personae – will meet collective communication needs.
A legal focus on media structure has long been quite common, with editorial control being assumed and relied on within the infrastructures underlying public speech. Now, under the DSA, for example, very large online actors have obligations to assess and mitigate systemic risks, but it is not clear that anything like journalistic-editorial roles will emerge at the systemic level.Footnote 83 It is not even clear that such curation is possible. There will be a different sort of control, supporting a different sort of public speech. It is well recognised that European states have positive obligations in relation to pluralism.Footnote 84 I would suggest that the obligation is not just about mass media pluralism but about pluralism of public communication, which now includes pluralism through platform distribution. But how to achieve that remains in doubt.
Of course, the more that regulation affects media content – such as specifying editorial standards in recommender systems – ‘the more strongly it can produce lack of freedoms, and the greater its potential for abuse’.Footnote 85 However, not acting can also entail a failure in that effective, democratic freedom of expression remains lacking. And as Cohen states, ‘current patterns of online communication are not inevitable … but rather are the result of infrastructuring work undertaken for particular, self-interested purposes’ of platforms:
Patterns of online communication … now engineered systemically for maximum volatility and virality might be engineered differently, and free speech law for the digital public sphere might be reenvisioned as permitting – or even requiring – public governance mandates that attempt to restore conditions of flow more compatible with the survival and healthy functioning of democratic institutions.Footnote 86
That is, one of the first two approaches to expressive freedom outlined in Section 19.2 is what is needed – approaches that require or allow legal measures in support of structural diversity, independence, and transparency for sustained plural public speech. Democratic governments did not fully control the system of public communication in the past, and freedom of expression highlights important ways in which they should not control speech. But for law to frame the system of freedom of expression, in its negative and positive dimensions, is a different matter.
Until recently there was a relatively stable model of mediated public speech in longstanding democracies that, as flawed as it was, provided a form of public debate and individual and collective opinion formation. Its existence involved varied and often substantial action by states – media ownership limits, direct and indirect media subsidies, public media funding, and so forth. Now it is not so clear how democracies should act in a changed system of public communication to support opinion formation and meet their obligations as guarantors of pluralism. But in that context the positive dimensions of expressive freedom have growing importance. Current European measures go only some way there, and European regulators and courts face future challenges in analysing the measures that online actors have (and have not) taken in light of all the dimensions of freedom of expression.
20.1 Introduction
Without quality journalism, whither democracy? That question is hard to answer against a backdrop of profound shifts in revenue flows to news organisations due to the funnelling of almost all digital advertising revenue to global tech platforms.Footnote 1 Add to this picture the fact that ChatGPT and its various generative AI cousins have now allowed a growing portion of news production to be delegated to AI machines. Can democracy survive this two-pronged structural pressure on the institutional conditions that historically enabled quality journalism without a strong regulatory response? This chapter argues that intellectual property law, if deployed without normative constraints, risks accelerating rather than preventing the erosion of quality journalism.
If by ‘democracy’ we mean not just a series of collective decision-making mechanisms such as allowing (some) people to vote at more or less regular intervals to pick their leaders but rather democracy as Mill, Rousseau, and others defined it, then the answer is very likely negative. Mill advocated democracy because it encourages people to think about their future more deeply because they can shape it, thus enhancing the moral qualities of the citizenry.Footnote 2 For this type of ‘real’ democracy to work, we need a polity that is well informed and, for that to exist, we need quality journalism, a notion discussed in detail in what follows. The notion may be defined as journalism produced under professional norms of verification, editorial independence, and accountability. This view is fully in line with European values, as exemplified by Article 11 of the EU CharterFootnote 3 and its reference to media pluralism. To provide another example, the Norwegian constitution protects ‘the seeking of truth, the promotion of democracy and the individual’s freedom to form opinions’.Footnote 4
Can machines perform the essential democratic function of quality journalism? This chapter will argue that, if machines were to displace a significant portion of human journalistic practice, the resulting loss of institutional knowledge and professional norms could prove difficult, perhaps impossible, to reconstruct. The risk is such that it may well justify applying a version of the precautionary principle.Footnote 5 The chapter argues, therefore, that law should take proactive steps to prevent the massive replacement of human journalists. This includes refusing to put intellectual property – and the full force of the market – behind the replacement of human authors by machines. It also implies a review of the press publishers’ right introduced in EU law by the CDSM Directive, analysing its effectiveness as compared to other available regulatory responses.Footnote 6
The chapter begins by reviewing ongoing changes in news production. It then discusses applicable copyright law and the press publisher’s right in this context. The chapter’s objective is to suggest ways to preserve the continued existence of news media that enable democratic functions: that is, ways to ameliorate negative impacts of the digital shift while preserving positive ones.
20.2 Changes in the Production of News
This section considers, first, the impact of the shift of news production and dissemination due to reintermediation via global tech platforms. Second, it identifies the policy objectives of the appropriate regulatory response to this ongoing shift.
20.2.1 Platformisation
A major digital shift has altered the ways in which news is produced, distributed, and funded in both positive and negative ways. There is abundant literature and ongoing research on this ‘digital shift’ in both cultural and news production and dissemination.Footnote 7 This shift is not going away anytime soon. We must accept, for example, that print will continue to dwindle. Then, there is reintermediation via major tech platforms, a phenomenon referred to as ‘platformisation’. In a nutshell, news, however it is produced and by whom, is now more often accessed via global platforms such as Google and Facebook.Footnote 8 In what has been dubbed by many an ‘Age of Giants’, global super-players thus serve as the main venue for commercialising digital content and reaching an audience. Research shows that the digital shift has directly affected national information sources and cash flows.Footnote 9 To that extent, the diagnostic part of the recitals of the CDSM Directive creating a right for press publishers, which the chapter will discuss in detail in what follows, is spot on.
Search engines and the AI-based algorithms that power them play an ever greater role in deciding which information a user gets,Footnote 10 making platforms a ‘gateway to readers’.Footnote 11 Platforms are not merely performing a distributional function; they are also allocative (attention allocation). A veritable reengineering of news is afoot: specific content is pushed to a user by an AI-powered algorithm based on the user’s personal data, a phenomenon encapsulated under the term ‘personalised news’.Footnote 12 This applies both to advertising and to news content. One of the important drawbacks is that users may see very little material that forces them to rethink existing beliefs and assumptions.Footnote 13 This is especially true in the political field, where the typical internet user sees ‘more of the same’, often accompanied by a demonisation of people who hold a different view – the so-called echo chamber effect, the exact scope of which is disputed.Footnote 14
Many news media now plan strategically to make the news suit the platforms.Footnote 15 This involves the use of data analytics to target specific audiences as well as long-term strategies on how to gain and keep platform users. The content is constantly changed or tweaked to be optimised for platform distribution and monetisation. Nieborg and Poell point out, for example, that news organisations spend more and more resources on platformed distribution of individual stories (‘large-scale content unbundling’). Combined with platform companies’ efforts to develop native hosting and monetisation programs such as Facebook’s Instant Articles, this development may ‘reduce news organizations to mere content developers’ instead of focusing on highly curated content packages (i.e. newspapers).Footnote 16 This is self-evidently liable to produce deep impacts on democratic processes, as news is disseminated by platforms based on user preferences and ad revenue maximisation.Footnote 17 The well-known US scholar Victor Pickard even suggested in that context that ‘Tweaking market mechanisms and scrambling for new business models is futile when the market itself is a core part of the problem.’Footnote 18
Digital journalism researchers have investigated the relationship between news organisations and platform companies, and specifically how competition among them affects the incentives for investigative and other forms of journalism.Footnote 19 There is also good research on how digitisation and a more global advertising market have changed the competition between legacy news organisations themselves.Footnote 20 From this research we learn among other things that platformisation directly affects the production of certain types of quality journalism, especially investigative and economic reporting (both of which often involve extensive fact-checking and analysis) and local journalism, all of which are particularly important in fulfilling the press’s ‘Fourth Estate’ role in a functioning democracy.Footnote 21
The ongoing shift to global platforms has had positive impacts as well, and in some cases positive implications for democracy. For example, global platforms such as Facebook have made content more accessible and manageable, opened up popular participation in democratic processes, and stimulated innovative ways of producing news. Yet there have been undeniable major negative impacts on financial flows to legacy news organisations, which typically had a dual business model relying on the sale of copies and on advertising. The latter source of income was essential for many organisations. That stream has shifted from legacy media with high content-production costs to platforms with little or no content-production costs.Footnote 22
The problem goes deeper still. There is a potential conflict of interest in that platforms do not share the professional journalists’ and news organisations’ desire and indeed their social responsibility to produce fact-checked, free (independent) news based on a norm of objectivity, which the CDSM Directive, like this chapter, refers to as ‘quality journalism’.Footnote 23 The idea that basic fact-checking, for example, may be subordinated to the need to generate more revenue seems hard to reconcile with the notion of objective quality journalism.Footnote 24 Put simply, for global digital platforms, generating or providing access to information that meets journalistic standards is unimportant or much less important and certainly not mission-critical. In some cases, platforms might even see it as squarely unproductive, as it may drive a user away from their site or platform because for that user stepping out of the comfort of the echo chamber may require a greater mental effort and the user might click away to avoid it. One example of the potential outcomes of this conflict is the generation of unverified news by machines, so-called robot reporters.Footnote 25 The use of AI creates a second structural disruption distinct from platformisation: revenue displacement and epistemic substitution.
In sum, the literature points to a potentially dramatic deterioration of the ecosystem for both professional news organisations and journalists and thus of the very existence of quality journalism. Identifying the proper response is about maintaining and rebuilding an ecosystem in which professional news organisations, including local ones, can survive and ideally thrive in the Age of Giants and can keep producing quality journalism.
20.2.2 What Is the Objective That Policy Should Pursue?
If platformisation describes the transformation, the next question is normative: what exactly should regulation seek to preserve? In their influential work Comparing Media Systems, Hallin and Mancini, addressing some of the criticism raised against Siebert, Peterson, and Schramm’s well-known Four Theories of the Press (1956), make empirical inquiries and comparative analyses to identify ideal media systems.Footnote 26 Focusing on media systems in Canada, the US, and Western European countries, they construct a framework for analysis based on four dimensions: the degree and shape of development of media markets, the degree and nature of links between political parties and the media, the degree of development of journalistic professionalism, and the degree and nature of state intervention in the political system. They identify three models: the liberal model, the polarised pluralistic model, and the democratic corporatist model. In all three models, journalism is seen as a normative practice, anchored in social responsibility theory, whereby news media are guided by a ‘social contract’ between the state, the people, and the media. The social contract metaphor also explains the necessity of journalistic ideology to maintain the function of the press within this system.
Scholars and media practitioners have discussed the reality and future of this approach as well as its paternalistic leaning. As an alternative, a more ‘neutral’ public or civic model of local journalism (with emphasis on mobilisation and encouragement of popular participation in local matters) has gained prominence, stimulated by the interactional possibilities afforded by the new media.Footnote 27 That said, the social responsibility ideal continues to play a central role for the public, professional, and scholarly understanding of news media’s value in a Western liberal democracy.Footnote 28
Independently of the exact model chosen to explain its role, however, media pluralism (assuming that news organisations abide by the ‘social contract’) is unquestionably desirable. As the CDSM Directive notes, a ‘free and pluralist press is essential to ensure quality journalism and citizens’ access to information. It provides a fundamental contribution to public debate and the proper functioning of a democratic society.’Footnote 29 We need journalism that both holds power to account and informs and provides context for public discussion of policy issues.Footnote 30 This implies the ‘institutional/political imperative of independence’.Footnote 31
When Article 11 of the Charter says that media pluralism must be ‘respected’ and, correlatively, that EU citizens have a right ‘to receive and impart information’, this has key implications. First, why do EU citizens have those rights? In the view taken in this chapter, it is because, combined with the right to vote and stand for elections also guaranteed by the Charter, the rights in question place the people as the ‘symbolic locus of power’ in the EU.Footnote 32 This in turn provides democratic legitimacy to the legal order, a theory espoused in various forms by Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, and Kant, to name just those intellectual heavyweights.Footnote 33
One should define pluralism in this context. There is a complex relationship between media pluralism and other forms of pluralism, in particular value pluralism. The link between value pluralism and political pluralism can be made convincingly, as Isaiah Berlin demonstrated. That link explains why media pluralism can serve as a basis for democratic institutions to function. As Berlin explained:
Democracy presupposes that every man is in principle capable of giving answers to personal and social questions which are as worthy of respect as any other man’s, that communication is possible between all men, or at least all men within a single society, because men are prepared to act on behalf of ideals and not merely be actuated by possibly unrecognised interests, and persuasion can be used to induce them to modify their present aims and recognise the value of those of others.Footnote 34
Other than the dated gendered language, this seems entirely correct. For citizens to be able to ‘give answers’ to social questions, and be confronted with the values of other citizens, quality journalism and socially responsible news seem essential. Journalists make mistakes, but they should aim to inform as best they can, checking sources and correcting their mistakes when, for example, scientific advances show that previously held scientific fact is incomplete or even incorrect. Journalistic intent and a commitment to aim for objective ‘truth’ should matter.
20.3 Regulatory Responses
20.3.1 A Menu of Options
There have been various regulatory responses around the world to the ‘digital shift’ in news production and dissemination discussed in Section 20.2. Those efforts have often aimed to strengthen the position of legacy news organisations, where much of the expertise in news production still resides.
Existing research on those regulatory responses to the digital shift is fragmentary at best. Scholars have discussed possible changes to copyright law and related rights;Footnote 35 the desirability and impact of state subsidies to news organisations;Footnote 36 exemptions from competition law to allow price-fixing;Footnote 37 the creation of new cooperative (citizen-owned) models in various areas;Footnote 38 improvements in the operation and regulation of copyright management organisations;Footnote 39 and changes to labour laws.Footnote 40 Some very tailored regulatory proposals target how global platforms prioritise and choose information and in doing so create possible conflicts with freedom of the press.Footnote 41 Courts, legislators, and policy makers have also struggled with how to define and separate journalism from other types of publication. Research has shown that legal definitions vary among countries.Footnote 42
In what follows, the first point of focus will be the EU press publishers’ right. Section 20.3.2 examines alternative responses that are more likely to achieve the objective described in Section 20.2.2.
20.3.2 The Press Publishers’ Right
The press publishers’ right (PPR) contained in Article 15 of the CDSM Directive was presented as a way to save the media. The CDSM Directive builds on what seems an unassailable normative foundation, particularly in its recital 54, already quoted, which refers both to the essential role of a ‘free and pluralist press … to ensure quality journalism’ and the role of the press in ‘the proper functioning of a democratic society’.Footnote 43
The push for the PPR comes from a belief that the media need ‘saving’ from platformisation, the phenomenon described in Section 20.2.1, namely the drastic and rapid changes to financial flows brought about by the central role of global digital platforms (not just Google and Facebook – Alphabet and Meta if you insist – but also TikTok and others) in providing access to news seen as a public good.Footnote 44 The CDSM Directive basically sees the issue as one of licensing for both legacy organisations and new entrants, the latter described as ‘new online services, such as news aggregators or media monitoring services’.Footnote 45 According to the CDSM Directive, they face essentially ‘problems in licensing the online use of their publications to the providers of those kinds of services, making it more difficult for them to recoup their investments’.Footnote 46 Hence the Directive creates a new related right to allow for better licensing of press content, asserting that the ‘organisational and financial contribution of publishers in producing press publications needs to be recognised and further encouraged’.Footnote 47 It seems, in other words, that generating revenue for ‘publishers’ of news will maintain their business model, which in turn will maintain their above-mentioned role in a democratic society. Will it work?
As the research summarised here suggests, there is a huge amount of amassed expertise in generating quality journalism, which requires professional journalists equipped with proper resources. The research examined in Section 20.2 also suggests that without quality journalism, democracy is in peril.Footnote 48
The PPR will not directly affect the transition to personalised news, but can it help maintain existing news organisations? Empirically, the effects thus far are not impressive. Like in Australia, where major news organisations obtained a lion’s share of the deal with Facebook, the same has reportedly happened in Germany and Spain after the introduction of the PPR.Footnote 49 Indeed, the PPR seems to have increased media concentration. This is not liable to increase media pluralism and puts the CDSM Directive potentially at odds with Article 11 of the Charter.
20.3.3 The Key Problems with the PPR
Here is the crux of the issue: the PPR does not guarantee that the news organisations receiving extra income will (continue to) produce quality journalism, nor does it operationally distinguish between news organisations that produce this type of journalism and the other ones. The PPR keeps organisations afloat, not journalism, and there is a difference. Now, this quandary was admittedly unavoidable. The Directive cannot select which news organisations are ‘good enough’ without a risk of running afoul of Article 11 of the Charter. This means that the PPR can maintain or enhance financial flows to both ‘quality’ and ‘non-quality’ news organisations. It maintains part of the institutional status quo, though not preventing new players from qualifying. What will matter in the end is what news users actually access, and the PPR will not directly affect this. If AI is used to target users using their preferences, it is those algorithms that will ultimately decide who lives or dies in this new environment. As on Apple Music, Spotify, and the like, the number of streams is the coin of the realm, and so it will be with news. If users do not want quality journalism in sufficient numbers – and want it enough to override what is chosen for them – then the PPR will end up being un coup d’épée dans l’eau. If users prefer low-quality echo chambers to the idealised quality journalism extolled by the CDSM Directive, what can copyright and related rights actually achieve? After all, those rights are, and have always been at bottom, market-based incentives.
Then comes the rights duplication issue. As the Directive notes, authors of journalistic content have authors’ rights in their work, which may be transferred to the publisher, thus making the publisher the effective right-holder. For example, reprographic rights organisations generate significant income for holders of rights in journalistic content.Footnote 50 This is said to be unaffected by the PPR.Footnote 51 This then begs the question why a second layer of right was required, as almost all content is produced by human authors whose literary or other productions are already protected by law. There is, as Christophe Geiger noted, a risk that ‘the grant of rights to ever more actors will decrease the economic value of each right covering essentially the same economic use’.Footnote 52 As I have argued elsewhere, one clear step we can take to avoid putting the full force of the market behind the replacement of journalists is to continue to recognise that authors’ rights are based on human creative choices, what the author of this chapter has referred to as a human ‘cause’.Footnote 53
It gets worse. In what seems an unintended consequence, the PPR likely protects AI-produced content that would otherwise be denied copyright protection due to a lack of originality. Ironically, a right justified as protecting journalism may create economic incentives to automate it. As Eleonora Rosati notes, the PPR ‘reflects the investment made by the concerned press publisher, irrespective of how much has been copied and whether what is copied is original in a copyright sense’.Footnote 54 This could create an incentive for publishers to use more AI and fewer journalists – a perverse result to be sure. Because the right protects content whether or not it is produced by human journalists, and because human journalists are more expensive (and need time off, work/life balance, and all those petty human things), a neoclassical economist might expect publishers to rely on humans less and less to produce the news, unless they be guided by high ethical principles of quality journalism or subject to regulatory interventions meant to keep journalism human – at least to some extent.
The reference in Article 15(1) of the CDSM Directive to ‘the rights provided for in Article 2 and Article 3(2) of Directive 2001/29/EC’ could, one might argue, incorporate by reference the notion of originality in EU copyright law, but the intent, it seems, was to refer to the right just to define its scope, not its subject matter.Footnote 55 The notion of ‘press publication’ in the Directive is not limited to literary works of a journalistic nature, as recital 56 refers explicitly to ‘other subject matter’.Footnote 56 Certainly, the Directive does not expressly require that PPR recipients work exclusively with human journalists. Incentives created by the PPR may pull in the opposite direction. Without authors to share with, the publishers would keep more of the (new) revenue stream generated by the PPR. True, one might say that publishers would want copyright (and, therefore, human authorship) to benefit from protection in addition to the PPR because the PPR has a very short term of protection compared to copyright, but that argument can be discarded because two yearsFootnote 57 is longer than the actual shelf life of almost all press publications. For many press publications, economic relevance rarely extends beyond days or weeks. In that light, a two-year term already exceeds their practical market life. Which news item needs a term of protection covering the life of the author plus seventy years? To limit the PPR to human-created news, one would have to adopt a purposive interpretation and argue that if the PPR’s purpose is the survival of quality journalism, that cannot be accomplished without journalists. In determining whether the PPR will accelerate the elimination of jobs for human journalists, the future may reveal how loud money can talk.
There are other issues with the PPR that will not be addressed here as they are less directly relevant to the topic, but they do matter; they include the Directive’s variegated implementation in Member States.Footnote 58
20.3.4 Alternative Legal Tools
The PPR is but one way for legislators to respond to the shift to digital news. Other avenues to explore include platform-specific content regulation, competition law (e.g. Australia’s ‘forced’ negotiations of revenue-sharing arrangements),Footnote 59 taxation of tech platforms (discussed by the OECD),Footnote 60 state subsidies, media ownership rules, and regulations to support the use and prevent the circumvention of paywalls. Regulatory limits on the financial and ownership relationship between global platforms and legacy news organisations have also been proposed. The purchase of the Washington Post by Jeff Bezos (founder of Amazon.com) provides, indirectly at least, an example of such a potential role for the regulator.Footnote 61
This chapter shares Neil Netanel’s view that the problem will not be solved by creating a related right (the PPR) in links to news because the problem lies elsewhere: it ‘stems primarily from the duopoly control over digital advertising held by Internet giants Google and Facebook’.Footnote 62 A better response, from that perspective, would rest on competition law. A perverse impact of the PPR is that it could delay or even prevent recourse to competition law. A competition law remedy could take the form of Australia’s rather weak and ill-formed – but nonetheless noteworthy – mandated bargaining approach.Footnote 63
Another solution would be more public funding, an option alluded to in Section 20.3.3. This chapter expresses some sympathy for this approach, as many European countries have public broadcasters and other publicly funded (including local) media. The hard question is how to fund the media at an appropriate level while maintaining the independence they require to function as producers of quality journalism. Scholars have suggested a tax on digital advertising revenue to generate the necessary funds.Footnote 64 This option would be worthy of further research in a European context.
20.4 Concluding Observations
The PPR was properly motivated by an eminently defensible normative view of the need to maintain quality journalism. Because the shift to digital in news production, dissemination and access has many aspects that the CDSM Directive does not address, the PPR will not achieve its lofty goals. Its failure may mean losing a generation of journalists and professional news organisations (especially those that do produce ‘quality journalism’), which in turn will cause irreversible damage to European democracy. The PPR is rough justice at best and may even in some cases be counterproductive. Other regulatory solutions exist, and they should be investigated rapidly.
21.1 Introduction
In his 2019 Global Survey of Journalism and Artificial Intelligence, Charlie Beckett concluded that ‘robots are not going to take over journalism.’Footnote 1 While machines may play an increasingly important role in routine journalism labour, Beckett saw the reality and potential of artificial intelligence (AI), machine learning, and data processing in ‘giv[ing] journalists new powers of discovery, creation and connection.’Footnote 2 This conclusion gave hope that the ‘human factor’ – journalistic work by authors of flesh and blood – would remain decisive in news and media productions. With the evolution of generative AI systems, this assumption has become doubtful. Generative AI systems have an increasing impact on news production – in the sense of an increasing potential to replace human journalistic work. Early studies show that substitution effects may be felt quite strongly in the news and media sector.Footnote 3 As generative AI systems are capable of providing content much faster and cheaper, human journalists – writers, photographers, illustrators, filmmakers, and others (collectively referred to as ‘journalists’ in the following analysis)Footnote 4 – may face shrinking market share and loss of income.
A closer look at Charlie Beckett’s 2019 Global Survey reveals that, already at that time, AI was taking over writing tasks. Beckett reported that AI had been employed to generate content for news apps, social media posts, and tweets, including not only text but also illustrations.Footnote 5 AI had also been used to contribute to local news and to write election reports for individual cities in France, based on data covering population, location, mayor, previous election results, wealth, employment rate, and so on.Footnote 6 Further examples concerned the algorithmic creation of football match commentaries, reports on traffic accidents, and weather forecasts. AI was also used to generate headlines and summaries of press releases.Footnote 7 Considering the evolution of generative AI systems, it is now imaginable without much difficulty that AI will conquer more and more territory in journalism that, traditionally, was reserved for humans.Footnote 8 The use of AI for routine journalism labour appears as a precursor of a much broader and increasing replacement trend.Footnote 9 Inevitably, the increasing sophistication of generative AI systems will disrupt the market for human journalistic work.Footnote 10
Considering this trend, the question arises whether copyright law could be employed as a legal tool to support human journalistic labour. Establishing payment obligations for AI use and exploitation in the press and media sector, the protection system could channel money from providers and users of generative AI systems to journalists. The underlying idea is simple: by imposing an obligation to pay remuneration for the use of AI systems and ensuring that this money reaches individual journalists, copyright law could transform AI content revenue into human content revenue.Footnote 11 Ultimately, this approach should enhance the chances of human journalists to continue their socially valuable work.
As simple as the formulation of this policy goal may be, the implementation of the underlying approach raises delicate legal-doctrinal and practical questions. First, copyright law would have to develop remuneration mechanisms that generate a revenue stream from the AI industry to the press and media sector. Second, copyright law would have to ensure that money accruing from AI levies does not simply fill the pockets of press and media companies. Instead of passing on AI revenue to individual journalists, press publishers and other media entrepreneurs may prefer to invest in the automation of journalistic labour.Footnote 12 As already indicated, the increasing use of AI can reduce the costs of news and media production. It would come as a surprise if the prospect of lower costs escaped the attention of press and media businesses. Copyright rules in this area, therefore, must address not only potentially divergent interests of AI and media companies but also the internal tension between press and media entrepreneurs and individual journalists. To the extent that press publishers and media companies employ AI technology to replace human journalistic labour, the obligation to pay remuneration for the use of AI would have to rest on both AI companies offering generative AI systems and media companies using these systems.
From a public policy perspective, there can be little doubt that it is worth while to explore regulatory avenues that could lead to new money streams for human journalistic work. Various arguments offer strong support for the introduction of a remuneration system in favour of human journalists (see Section 21.2): among them are the parasitic use of human press and media productions for AI training purposes; the central function of public interest journalism in society;Footnote 13 and the socio-political objective of helping journalists who face displacement effects. To implement effective remuneration mechanisms in practice, the two steps must be taken that have already been mentioned. First, a money flow from the AI industry to the press and media industry must be set in motion. Second, this money must be directed to individual journalists.
Seeking to achieve these goals, the legislator has the choice between two different reference points. On the one hand, it is conceivable to impose an obligation to pay remuneration at the stage of AI training. The machine cannot produce results resembling human press and media content unless it has had the opportunity to analyse relevant human creations (input dimension). The use of countless human works for AI training offers a starting point for developing a remuneration system that seeks to compensate human authors for the use of their works to build a machine that has the potential to become a serious competitor. In EU copyright law, the provisions on text and data mining (TDM) offer a basis for initiating a money stream at AI training level. However, a closer look at the EU approach reveals that the current configuration of relevant provisions in EU copyright law and the AI Act (AIA)Footnote 14 may make it difficult to ensure that this money finally flows to individual journalists (Section 21.3).
On the other hand, the lawmaker can introduce an obligation to pay remuneration for the supply of generative AI products and services and the use of AI systems by press and media companies (output dimension). Instead of requiring the payment of remuneration at the training level, a ‘levy’ could be imposed on the offer and use of AI systems capable of substituting for human press and media productions. This output-oriented AI levy could then be used to offer financial support for human journalists.Footnote 15 To make sure that AI remuneration is passed on to individual human creators, providers of AI systems and users in the press and media sector could be under an obligation to pay remuneration to collecting societies, which would then use the revenue from remuneration payments to support journalists and their work.Footnote 16 In combination with mandatory collective rights management, this new revenue stream could be used to finance social and cultural funds for journalists of flesh and blood. At the same time, the AI levy could make the use of generative AI systems in the press and media sector more expensive. Adding levy payments as an additional cost factor, the remuneration system could contribute to the reduction of the price advantage following from the fact that media organisations embracing AI systems need not pay honoraria or salaries for journalistic labour (Section 21.4).Footnote 17
Weighing the arguments for and against these different implementation strategies, a legislative approach focusing on the output dimension and seeking to introduce a levy for the offer and use of generative AI systems in the press and media sector seems more promising than an approach taking input and training activities as a reference point for remuneration payments (as will be discussed in Section 21.5).
21.2 Three Good Reasons for the Payment of Remuneration
Generative AI systemsFootnote 18 are capable of mimicking human news and media productions only because human works have been used as training material.Footnote 19 On the basis of existing literary and artistic creations that serve as input data, machine-learning algorithms are able to recognise patterns and similarities. Following this deductive method, a generative AI system learns how to produce output that imitates human works. Its machine-learning algorithm enables the AI system to generate journalistic content on its own – based on the computational analysis of human works that served as training material.Footnote 20 Taking this insight as a starting point, it becomes possible to lay theoretical groundwork for the introduction of a remuneration mechanism in favour of human journalists. Central to this are considerations relating to the parasitic use of human creations for AI training (Section 21.2.1), the contribution of human journalistic work to the improvement of social and political conditions (Section 21.2.2), and the socio-political need to support journalists who face displacement effects (Section 21.2.3).
21.2.1 Parasitic Usurpation
First, it can be said that journalists should be compensated for the parasitic usurpation of the market for human news and media content production. The machine is capable of mimicking human press and media content only after it has had the opportunity to derive patterns for its own productions from myriad human creations that serve as training resources, including journalistic texts, photos, illustrations, and audiovisual material.Footnote 21 Journalistic training material can be of particular importance in the development of AI models that can be used in the press and media sector, as it reflects typical stylistic elements of journalistic work. Newspaper articles, for example, may contain valuable data points that offer information on specific writing styles, word choices, and expressions that readers expect from a journalistic text. From this perspective, it is only fair that human journalists – providing important elements of the source material for AI ingenuity in press and media contexts – receive a remuneration when AI productions finally kill the demand for human journalistic work.Footnote 22 This line of argument plays a central role in the lawsuits that several US newspapers, including the New York Times, have brought against OpenAI and Microsoft.Footnote 23
Admittedly, the parasitic usurpation argument appears less convincing when considered in light of the full spectrum of literary and artistic content that may be used for machine learning. AI models capable of eroding the market for human journalistic productions may have been trained with work repertoires that go far beyond journalistic texts, photos, and videos. The spectrum of writings used for an AI model that generates natural-language text may be much more diverse than newspaper articles. It is unlikely that photo libraries used for the training of an image-generating AI model are confined to press photographs. Hence there might be an incongruence between general training resources (works created outside the journalistic domain) and the specific circle of beneficiaries – human journalists – who should be entitled to remuneration to soften displacement effects. However, this incongruence need not pose insurmountable hurdles when considering further arguments in favour of remuneration for journalists.
21.2.2 Improvement of Societal Conditions
More concretely, there is a second argument which, instead of looking at the source material used for AI training, emphasises the particular importance of journalistic work to society as a whole. From this overarching policy perspective, it can be stated that remuneration for the supply and use of generative AI systems in the press and media sector should be due to human journalists because their work has particular societal value. It would be undesirable if despite displacement effects in the press and media sector, providers and users of generative AI systems could escape the obligation to remunerate journalists by simply going beyond journalistic productions and diversifying the spectrum of literary and artistic material used for AI training. As demonstrated in the cultural sciences,Footnote 24 literary and artistic productions made by authors of flesh and blood provide important impulses for social and political changes. Human expression not only addresses shortcomings of present society and defects of social and political conditions; with critical commentary and alternative visions of society, it also prepares society for the transition to being a better community.Footnote 25 The work of human journalists can serve as an example. AI-generated productions in the press and media field are incapable of providing comparable impulses for the improvement of societal conditions. An AI system may manage to imitate human journalistic productions.Footnote 26 But AI systems do not perceive and experience social, cultural, economic, and political conditions as humans do. They are not affected by societal conditions in the same way as humans.Footnote 27 Problematic developments offer starting points for human journalists to analyse reasons and origins; criticise responsible groups, leaders, and institutions; propose alternatives; and bring all this to the attention of readers, listeners, and viewers in order to change society for the better. Investigative journalism can pave the way for changes by revealing scandals and shortcomings in societal subsystems, such as the fields of political and economic power.Footnote 28 As has been pointed out, AI systems may support the work of journalists. Providing superhuman possibilities of data analysis, they may give journalists unprecedented powers of discovery.Footnote 29 AI systems operating independently, however, cannot free themselves from the data input fuelling their algorithms.Footnote 30 Instead of arriving at valid criticism and alternative visions of society, they simply recombine the data used for training purposes. While, for example, a generative AI system will have little difficulty in producing endless variations of known press and media content, it cannot be expected to interpret its societal impact and evaluate the desirability of potential societal changes. Even highly problematic false, harmful, and extreme messages may be multiplied and amplified without consideration of their societal repercussions.Footnote 31
To preserve the central societal function of human journalistic work, it is thus important to ensure that journalists survive the dethroning of the human author. The introduction of a remuneration system that channels money to human journalists makes sense from this perspective. It prevents the loss of important impulses for the improvement of social and political conditions. By leaving press and media production to AI systems, society weakens its ability to evaluate and renew itself. With the introduction of an AI remuneration system, society can reverse this trend. Offering financial support for journalists, such a system can preserve the important function of human journalistic work in providing ongoing impulses for the improvement of societal conditions. Hence, there is substantial reason to introduce remuneration mechanisms that focus on journalists.Footnote 32
21.2.3 Socio-Political Need to Cushion Displacement Effects
If AI systems in the press and media sector are trained on a broader range of literary and artistic works – not only journalistic texts, photos, and videos – it can be argued that a remuneration system focused on journalists allows authors in the press and media sector to obtain benefits that result, at least in part, from the use of creations made by authors in various other sectors. As already indicated, this objection should not free providers and users of AI systems in press and media contexts from the obligation to pay remuneration. It is an issue of distributing AI revenue – and of solidarity among authors. Arguably, journalists exposed to displacement effects in the press and media sector have a stronger and more direct entitlement to remuneration for AI use in that sector than authors in other sectors whose works an AI crawler has amassed to maximise training resources. Conversely, it can be said that remuneration for AI use in other creative sectors should be due to authors struggling with displacement effects in these other sectors. It should not be paid to journalists even if journalistic works played a role in the training of AI systems that are used in these other sectors.
Based on this premise, a stronger, more direct entitlement of journalists to revenue accruing from the use of AI systems in the press and media sector can finally be derived from a broader socio-political consideration that has particular importance. Inevitably, the displacement of journalists and the disruption of the market for human press and media productions require adequate countermeasures and investment. Journalists who lose their jobs will need financial support. Investment in training activities will be necessary to enable them to obtain new skills and credentials. The introduction of a remuneration system that focuses on journalists is an important and desirable step against this backdrop. If the remuneration for the use of AI in the press and media sector were more widely distributed, the potential of this measure to cushion the disruptive effect on journalists would be reduced. Admittedly, general tax money could be used to enable journalists to adapt to the challenges of increasing AI use. In comparison to a tax-based model, however, the copyright framework offers crucial advantages. It does not raise the spectre of censorship and is more resilient. While the next economic crisis may lead to cuts in the use of taxpayers’ money, copyright measures can weather market cycles. By imposing a journalist-centric remuneration obligation on providers and users of generative AI systems in the press and media sector, the legislator adopts a targeted approach: the industry players – in both the AI sector and the media sector – causing the disruption are required to contribute to the financing of measures that mitigate the corrosive effect on human journalistic work. With collecting societies and their remuneration and repartitioning schemes, the copyright system offers a well-established infrastructure for the appropriate distribution of collected money – in the sense of a distribution scheme that ensures a direct money flow to human journalists.Footnote 33
Hence, there are several good reasons for the introduction of remuneration mechanisms that ensure the payment of remuneration for the use of generative AI systems to replace human journalistic labour.Footnote 34 As already indicated, this insight gives rise to the question of how best to implement remuneration mechanisms in practice. On the one hand, the focus could be on the input dimension: the use of human journalistic content for AI training purposes. On the other hand, the final output – the offer of generative AI products and services in the marketplace and the use of these systems by press and media organisations – could serve as a reference point for payment obligations. To identify the preferable implementation strategy, it is necessary to embark on a closer inspection of both approaches.
21.3 Input/Training Dimension
When remuneration mechanisms are aligned with the input dimension, particular importance is attached to the fact that human works are used to train AI systems. With the evolution of generative AI – capable of replacing human literary and artistic works – this use of human source material for machine training purposes has triggered strong statements accusing the AI industry of the parasitic use of human works. In the legislative process leading to AIA adoption in the EU,Footnote 35 the Authors’ Rights Initiative – over forty associations and trade unions representing authors, performers, and copyright holders in various creative industry segments – stressed in its ‘call for safeguards around generative AI’ that:
[t]he output of AI systems depends on the input they are trained with; this includes texts, images, videos and other material from authors, performers and other copyright holders: Our entire digital repertoire serves training purposes, often without consent, without remuneration and not always for legitimate uses. The unauthorised usage of protected training material, its non-transparent processing, and the foreseeable substitution of the sources by the output of generative AI raise fundamental questions of accountability, liability and remuneration, which need to be addressed before irreversible harm occurs.Footnote 36
Similarly, the European Guild for Artificial Intelligence Regulation (EGAIR) adopted the ‘EGAIR Manifesto’, pointing out that:
the products sold by AI companies are the result of operations on datasets, which contain all sorts of data, including millions of copyrighted images, private pictures and other sensitive material. These files were collected by indiscriminately scraping the internet without the consent of the owners and people portrayed in them and are currently being used by AI companies for profit.Footnote 37
A ‘Joint statement from authors’ and performers’ organisations on artificial intelligence and the AI Act’ warned that
AI technologies increasingly use authors’ and performers’ works and creations to ‘feed’ and train their applications without their consent or knowledge, in breach of authors and performers’ rights granted under international, EU or national laws. In this era of rapidly advancing AI technologies, whose principle consists solely of copying and mixing, we must highlight the urgent need to protect the works and performances of professional authors and performers from misappropriation. Not only to preserve their livelihoods, but also to inform citizens about the use of original works by AI applications.Footnote 38
The final AIA text shows that these initiatives had a deep impact on the parliamentary debate and the trilogue phase in which the European Commission, the Council, and the European Parliament established the definite version of the new piece of legislation. Recital 105 AIA addresses ‘[g]eneral-purpose models, in particular large generative models, capable of generating text, images, and other content.’Footnote 39 Recognising potential corrosive effects on human creativity, it points out that these models ‘present unique innovation opportunities but also challenges to artists, authors, and other creators and the way their creative content is created, distributed, used and consumed.’Footnote 40 The Recital also emphasises that the development and training of generative AI models ‘require access to vast amounts of text, images, videos, and other data. Text and data mining techniques may be used extensively in this context for the retrieval and analysis of such content, which may be protected by copyright and related rights.’Footnote 41
After this statement of the problem, Recital 105 confirms that the use of literary and artistic works for AI training purposes has copyright relevance and involves acts of text and data mining that require the authorisation of rightholders: ‘[a]ny use of copyright protected content requires the authorisation of the rightsholder concerned unless relevant copyright exceptions and limitations apply.’Footnote 42 As requested by authors, performers, and creative industry branches, the EU legislator thus clarified that authors and industry rightholders can exercise control over the use of human works during AI training processes on the basis of copyright protection – unless a copyright exception applies.
Prior to the AIA, the TDM discussion in EU copyright law had already culminated in the introduction of rules that could be understood to confirm the copyright relevance of AI training processes, such as the use made of protected works during the training of generative AI systems. The specific TDM provisions in Articles 3 and 4 of the 2019 Directive on Copyright in the Digital Single Market (CDSMD)Footnote 43 set forth two specific exceptions to copyright, related rights, and database protection that play an important role in the context of TDM projects that require the extraction of data from protected literary and artistic works and/or databases, including journalistic content. Addressing scientific research directly, Article 3(1) CDSMD sets forth an obligation for Member States to exempt from copyright, related rights, and sui generis database protection acts of copying that research organisations or cultural heritage institutions carry out in the context of scientific research that involves TDM.Footnote 44
In addition to this exemption of scientific TDM, Article 4(1) CDSMD contains a general exemption of TDM that is not limited to scientific research. Under this broader provision, anyone, including commercial AI system developers and trainers, may make copies of works, performances, or databases for the purposes of TDM and retain them as long as necessary for the AI training process.Footnote 45 With regard to this broader category of TDM outside the scope of the scientific research rule in Article 3 CDSMD, Article 4(3) CDSMD adds an important nuance by stipulating that rightholders can reserve their rights. The provision contains the following opt-out mechanism: ‘The exception or limitation provided for in paragraph 1 shall apply on condition that the use of works and other subject matter referred to in that paragraph has not been expressly reserved by their rightholders in an appropriate manner, such as machine-readable means in the case of content made publicly available online.’Footnote 46
Arguably, the adoption of specific copyright exceptions for TDM had already established the copyright relevance of TDM and related AI training processes. As the CDSM Directive dates back to 2019, however, it could also be argued that the EU legislator did not have in mind the use of copyrighted material as mere data input for generative AI training purposes.Footnote 47 In the TDM debate, it has been underlined around the globe that TDM copies have a specific nature. They fall outside the concept of reproduction in the traditional sense of making copies for the purpose of consulting and enjoying a work.Footnote 48 After the confirmation of copyright relevance in Recital 105 AIA, however, the power of persuasion of this argument vanishes with regard to the regulation of AI training in the EU. Without distinguishing between use of ‘works as works’ and use of ‘works as data’,Footnote 49 Recital 105 AIA confirms that EU copyright law brings all forms of TDM under the umbrella of the right of reproduction and, thus, requires the invocation of a copyright exception, such as the scientific research rule in Article 3 CDSMD, the broader exemption in Article 4 CDSMD, or the long-standing temporary copying rule in Article 5(1) of the 2001 Information Society Directive.Footnote 50
21.3.1 Money Flow from the AI Industry to the Press and Media Sector
In the case of commercial AI training falling under Article 4(1) CDSMD, this configuration of the right of reproduction also means that EU copyright law brings TDM activities within the reach of copyright holders in the press and media sector seeking to receive a remuneration for the use of human journalistic works in AI training.Footnote 51 Referring to the opt-out mechanism in Article 4(3) CDSMD, the AI Act confirms the intention to give rightholders the opportunity to exercise control over the use of their works for AI training purposes in Article 4 CDSMD scenarios: ‘Where the rights to opt out has been expressly reserved in an appropriate manner, providers of general-purpose AI models need to obtain an authorisation from rightsholders if they want to carry out text and data mining over such works.’Footnote 52 In accordance with Article 4(3) CDSMD, rightholders can exclude TDM via a machine-readable rights reservation. This means that AI trainers must take into account metadata, such as robots.txt files, but also the terms and conditions of a website or online service, such as online portals of press publishers and other media outlets, in order to assess whether TDM is permitted with regard to a particular work.Footnote 53 In principle, rightholders in the press and media sector can thus rely on technical safeguards, such as robots.txt files, to prevent the use of human journalistic works for AI training purposes.
As in other cases where copyright holders can refuse permission for a given form of use, this veto right can pave the way for negotiations and licensing agreements.Footnote 54 It is conceivable that the rights reservation option in Article 4(3) CDSMD leads to machine-readable rights reservation protocols that express different rightholder standpoints. One standpoint could be robots.txt that signals an outright exclusion of any use of human journalistic content for AI training purposes. Using this version of robots.txt, rightholders can express their preference for an outright prohibition. They can altogether prevent TDM of their press and media content. An alternative standpoint, however, could be robots.txt that prohibits use for AI training purposes only if the AI trainer behind the crawler is reluctant to pay remuneration. Using this alternative version, rightholders can thus express their willingness to permit the use of human journalistic content with the payment of remuneration. In other words: in an ideal world, the rights reservation option in Article 4(3) CDSMD serves as a catalyst to arrive at generally agreed, machine-readable remuneration protocols in the press and media sector that trigger an automated process for the payment of remuneration.Footnote 55
Unfortunately, it may be quite difficult to achieve this ideal result in the real world. Even if standardised rights reservation protocols – capable of expressing remuneration wishes and modalities – become available, it is unclear whether copyright holders in the press and media sector will manage to create efficient, pan-European rights clearance solutions that offer reliable and well-functioning payment interfaces with the technical safeguards – robots.txt files for example – that express the electronic remuneration caveat. As long as the automated, machine-based identification of rightholders and the automated processing of payments remains complicated or unreliable, the rights reservation option in Article 4(3) CDSMD is unlikely to pave the way for a remuneration system that covers a broad spectrum of news and media providers.Footnote 56 The training of generative AI systems requires the availability of vast amounts of journalistic work. The moment AI trainers are obliged to check rights ownership, observe specific payment conditions, and obtain permission at the level of individual works or databases, the burden of rights clearanceFootnote 57 can easily lead to a situation where licensing takes place only between big players: AI companies entering into umbrella licensing agreements with content majors – the biggest rightholders – in the press and media sector.Footnote 58
21.3.2 Extra Income for Individual Journalists
It is foreseeable that the rights clearance obstacles described here – and the potential predominance of licensing deals at the level of big press and media companies – will make it difficult for individual journalists to benefit from new AI training revenue. If rights clearance solutions become available, these solutions will most probably be the result of industry collaboration: the press and media industry agrees with the high-tech industry on conditional rights reservation protocols that make use of human journalistic content possible the moment the desired remuneration has been paid. As with all types of industry collaboration, this approach raises the question of whether the new revenue stream accruing from AI training will ever reach individual journalists.
In the press and media sector, copyright relating to human journalistic works will normally be in the hands of press publishers and other media content producers. Freelance journalists will hardly ever have sufficient bargaining power to negotiate exploitation contracts that allow them to keep copyright. Instead, these contracts will require the transfer of copyright in its entirety – for the entire term of copyright, with regard to all territories, forms of exploitation, types of use, and so on. This means that AI developers have good chances of acquiring valid permissions for AI training from press and media companies without there being any need to approach individual freelance journalists or their collective rights management organisations (CMO). The only exception would be in copyright systems that contain specific safeguards to protect authors against an overbroad loss of exclusive rights. Copyright contract law in Germany and the Netherlands, for example, follows the maxim in dubio pro autore: a freelance journalist is deemed to have granted press publishers and media content producers only those exclusive rights that are explicitly mentioned in the exploitation contract. In case of doubt, the law assumes that the contract covers only the rights necessary for the envisaged exploitation. All other rights remain in the hands of the journalist.Footnote 59
This configuration of copyright contract law impacts rights clearance for AI training when it is assumed that the use of copyrighted works for AI training purposes is a new, formerly unknown type of use. As already indicated, the discussion on TDM offers several reference points to build this argument, as TDM copies have a specific nature. They fall outside the concept of reproduction in the traditional sense.Footnote 60 As Rosanna Ducato and Alain Strowel have explained in the European TDM discussion:
when acts of reproduction are carried out for the purpose of search and TDM, the work, although it might be reproduced in part, is not used as a work: the work only serves as a tool or data for deriving other relevant information. The expressive features of the work are not used, and there is no public to enjoy the work, as the work is only an input in a process for searching a corpus and identifying occurrences and possible trends or patterns.Footnote 61
Hence there are good reasons to assume that copying human journalistic works for the purposes of automated, computational TDM constitutes a new, formerly unknown reproduction category that falls outside the scope of exploitation contracts concluded prior to the AI revolution in copyright systems following the principle in dubio pro autore.Footnote 62 Rightholders in the press and media sector escape this conclusion only when they use exploitation contracts that cover all types of use – now known or hereafter devised.Footnote 63 In such a case, a journalist’s chances of being remunerated for use in AI training depends on further provisions in copyright contract law that specifically address the grant of rights relating to unknown forms of use. For instance, Section 31a(1) of the German Copyright Act stipulates that an author may revoke the grant of ‘rights in respect of unknown types of use’.Footnote 64 Paragraph 2 adds that ‘[t]he right of revocation does not apply where the parties, upon becoming aware of the new type of use, have agreed on remuneration in accordance with section 32c(1)’. This latter provision clarifies that authors – journalists in the case of press and media productions – are entitled to ‘separate equitable remuneration where the other contracting party commences a new type of use of the author’s work pursuant to section 31a which was agreed upon, but still unknown, at the time the contract was concluded’.Footnote 65
Under German copyright contract law, freelance journalists may thus have the chance of obtaining an additional remuneration if TDM is qualified as a type of use that was unknown at the time of concluding the exploitation contract with a press publisher or other media company – a ‘separate’ remuneration that comes on top of the initially agreed remuneration under the contract.Footnote 66 In copyright systems without a comparable cascade of provisions seeking to generate an extra flow of revenue, the success of remuneration claims after the transfer of copyright to an exploiter of the journalistic work depends on more general provisions of copyright contract law. Harmonising copyright contract law in the EU, Article 18(1) CDSMD obliges Member States to ensure that ‘where authors and performers license or transfer their exclusive rights for the exploitation of their works or other subject matter, they are entitled to receive appropriate and proportionate remuneration.’Footnote 67
In the absence of decisions of the Court of Justice of the European Union (‘CJEU’), however, it is unclear what impact new, formerly unknown types of use may have on the assessment of whether the contractually agreed remuneration constitutes an ‘appropriate and proportionate remuneration’ in the sense of Article 18(1). Under Article 20(1) CDSMD, journalists can demand a contract adjustment ‘when the remuneration originally agreed turns out to be disproportionately low compared to all the subsequent relevant revenues derived from the exploitation of the works or performances’.Footnote 68 However, this threshold appears relatively high in TDM cases – despite the intention to relax the disproportionality test in comparison with traditional, so-called bestseller clauses in domestic Member State legislation which, for example, required evidence of ‘gross’ disproportionality.Footnote 69 Even if TDM licenses lead to extra income, it remains to be seen whether this new revenue stream will ever become such an important income component that, factoring TDM fees into the equation, the originally agreed contractual remuneration (which did not consider this new, unknown type of use) appears ‘disproportionately low’ within the meaning of Article 20(1) CDSMD.
In addition to these unresolved issues of copyright contract law, empirical studies show that freelance journalists may fear negative reactions in the press and media sector when they insist on their right to fair remuneration or, more specifically, additional remuneration for formerly unknown TDM use.Footnote 70 Facing a relatively small circle of press and media producers, a journalist may be concerned about seeing their name being added to a ‘blacklist’ of ‘difficult’ persons with whom press and media organisations do not want to work because of past disputes about insufficient remuneration.Footnote 71 If a journalist does not work as a freelancer, but as an employee, copyright rules on fictitious employer’s authorship may moreover stipulate that the employer acquires copyright directly. In national systems with this fictitious authorship rule, press and media organisations become the first owner of copyright – without any transfer or licence.Footnote 72 Extra TDM income, then, depends on the employee’s chances of receiving a pay rise.
On balance, copyright contract law does not offer journalists a particularly powerful arsenal of legal tools. Instead, it is an open question whether freelance journalists will have success when they try to obtain a fair share of TDM revenue that may accrue from the reservation of copyright under Article 4(3) CDSMD and subsequent high-level licensing deals between the AI industry and press and media organisations. Considering the legal uncertainty surrounding claims for additional remuneration, it seems much more realistic to assume that new TDM income will predominantly fill the pockets of large press and media companies that own impressive repertoires of journalistic works.Footnote 73 Individual journalists whose works form part of these repertoires, however, will not necessarily receive higher honoraria or an appropriate share of the TDM income.Footnote 74 Copyright legislation focusing on the input/AI-training dimension may thus generate a new flow of revenue from the AI industry to the press and media sector. The opt-out mechanism in Article 4(3) CDSMD – now flanked by the provisions of the AI Act – can serve as an example. Individual journalists facing displacement effects, however, are unlikely to benefit from this new revenue stream.
21.4 Output/Substitution Dimension
Considering these drawbacks of an input/AI-training-based remuneration regime, such as the system following from the opt-out mechanism in the CDSM Directive and the new rules in the AI Act, it seems particularly important to explore alternative approaches that may strengthen not only the position of press and media companies vis-à-vis the AI industry but also the position of individual journalists. As already indicated, a remuneration mechanism in favour of journalists need not focus on the AI training phase. Instead, the final offer of AI services and products on the market can serve as a reference point for a legal obligation to pay remuneration (output dimension). More specifically, it seems possible to establish a lump-sum remuneration system that channels to human journalists a certain share of the revenue accruing from the supply and use of generative AI systems in the press and media sector.Footnote 75
21.4.1 Towards an AI Levy System
Following this alternative approach, providers of generative AI systems and users in the press and media sector would be obliged to pay remuneration for the production of content that has the potential to substitute for human journalistic works. Surveying the canon of copyright rules, it becomes apparent that a lump-sum remuneration approach is not entirely alien to the protection system. The existing legal obligation to pay remuneration for the use of phonograms could serve as a blueprint for this new remuneration regime. Using Article 8(2) of the Rental, Lending and Related Rights DirectiveFootnote 76 as a model, the rule could take the following shape:
Member States shall provide a right in order to ensure that a single equitable remuneration is paid by providers and users of a generative AI system, if a literary and artistic output generated by the system has the potential to serve as a substitute for a work made by a human journalist, and to ensure that this remuneration is paid to social and cultural funds of collective management organisationsFootnote 77 for the purpose of fostering and supporting human journalistic work.Footnote 78
Admittedly, this text may require further refinement and clarification before it can be adopted as a legal basis for the introduction of an AI levy system that supports journalists. Potential definition hurdles, however, seem surmountable.Footnote 79 As to the question of what output quality is necessary to assume a substitution risk, it must be considered that this new rule would aim at establishing a lump-sum remuneration system. It does not require a fine-grained, precise analysis that determines meticulously what specific amount of remuneration can be deemed appropriate for each and every human journalistic contribution that is affected by the use of generative AI systems. Nor does it require evidence that a specific human journalistic production has not taken place because of the use of generative AI. Instead, all that is needed is a general, abstract assessment of whether, in principle, an AI system is capable of substituting for human press and media content. If such a system is offered or used in the press and media sector, this should be sufficient to confirm a disruptive effect and impose a payment obligation.
The general conceptual contours of the proposed lump-sum remuneration approach would be as follows. The system would serve the overarching purpose of creating a new revenue stream to support the work of human journalists. Revenue accruing from the payment of remuneration for the offer and use of generative AI systems in the press and media sector would be channelled to collecting societies that would use the money to support journalistic work. If this revenue system is combined with inescapable, mandatory collective rights management, the repartitioning schemes of CMOs can ensure that, in compliance with their statutory purposes and rules for social and cultural funds,Footnote 80 individual journalists can benefit directly from the extra income accruing from remuneration payments. To achieve this result, they do not have to invoke the complex rules of copyright contract law discussed in Section 21.3. Perhaps more importantly, they do not have to run the risk of blacklisting.Footnote 81 The distribution machinery of CMOs ensures that journalists receive a share of AI revenue automatically.Footnote 82
21.4.2 Extra Income for Individual Journalists
In contrast to the industry collaboration that is likely to arise from an input/AI-training-based approach and the reservation of rights under Article 4(3) CDSMD, this output-oriented remuneration approach does not give rise to concerns that collected levies will hardly ever reach individual journalists.Footnote 83 By imposing an obligation to pay remuneration on both ‘providers’ and ‘users’ of generative AI systems, the proposed remuneration mechanism addresses the internal tension between the interests of the press and media industry on the one hand and the interests of individual journalists on the other. Press and media organisations may embrace AI to reduce production costs.Footnote 84 Individual journalists, by contrast, have a strong interest in compensation for the reduction of their market share and income.Footnote 85 Taking these divergent interests into account, the explicit reference to generative AI ‘users’ in the proposed provision solves this tension in favour of journalists: the moment a press publisher or media company employs generative AI technology to replace human journalistic labour, the proposed remuneration system ensures that this press or media organisation is bound to pay remuneration for the use of AI. Under the remuneration rule developed here, not only the offer of generative AI systems by the high-tech industry (providers) but also the use of such systems in press and media productions (users) triggers the payment obligation. As a result, the obligation to pay remuneration rests on both AI companies offering generative AI systems and media companies using these systems in the press and media sector.
21.4.3 Focus on Public Interest Journalism
More concrete guidelines for the use of collected revenue can be derived from the three objectives described here. Following the argument that the remuneration system offers compensation for the parasitic use of human works for the purpose of enabling AI systems to kill the market for human creativity in the press and media sector (first argument), collected money could be used broadly to support human journalistic productions. A more targeted approach, by contrast, follows from the insight that AI-generated press and media content leads to a loss of human journalistic works that uncover societal problems and provide impulses for improving societal conditions (second argument). To allow human journalists to continue their socially valuable work, the establishment of funds seeking to promote human journalistic productions – in particular in the area of investigative journalism – seems warranted. Finally, the general socio-political goal of supporting journalists who lose their jobs due to competing AI content (third argument) justifies the establishment of social funds that serve as insurance against displacement effects caused by generative AI systems. The three rationales developed here offer a basis for different measures ranging from the establishment of a general repartitioning scheme to more specific, targeted investment in social and cultural funds.
Importantly, the repartitioning schemes of CMOs may even offer room for using AI revenue to subsidise socially valuable public interest journalism.Footnote 86 In Amazon – a case about the payment and repartitioning of private copying levies in Austria – the CJEU confirmed that EU law offers considerable flexibility with regard to the use of collected funds for social and cultural purposes. One of the questions asked by the Austrian Supreme Court was whether a collecting society lost its right to the payment of fair compensation if, in relation to half of the funds received, the collecting society was required by law not to pay the levy income to the persons entitled to compensation but to distribute it to social and cultural institutions.Footnote 87
Answering this question, the CJEU held the view that EU law did not contain an obligation to pay all the lump-sum remuneration collected via levy systems, such as the levy system for private copying, directly to rights owners in cash. Instead, a Member State was free to provide that part of the lump-sum remuneration be distributed in the form of indirect compensation through social and cultural institutions set up for the benefit of authors and performing artists.Footnote 88 The fact that the remuneration had to be regarded as recompense for a specific harm did not constitute an obstacle to the establishment of such an indirect payment mechanism through the intermediary of social and cultural institutions.Footnote 89 The Court also stated that a system of indirect distribution of collected funds was conducive to ensuring that European cultural creativity and production received the necessary resources. It further safeguarded the independence and dignity of authors and performers.Footnote 90 The Court made it a condition, however, that the social and cultural establishments involved actually benefit those entitled to the lump-sum remuneration (journalists in the case of the AI levy system proposed here). Moreover, it was necessary that the detailed arrangements for the operation of social and cultural institutions were not discriminatory. Benefits had to be granted to those persons entitled to remuneration and the system had to be open to nationals and foreigners alike.Footnote 91
Arguably, this decision makes it possible to adopt measures to offer extra support for journalistic work with particular societal relevance. If it is legitimate to use half of the revenue accruing from AI remuneration for social and cultural purposes, it also seems possible to devote particular attention to the furtherance of public interest journalism when taking decisions on the distribution of this substantial share of the collected money.Footnote 92
However, the decision of the CJEU in Amazon sheds light on two potential obstacles. First, the Court made it clear that the use of funds by social and cultural institutions had to constitute an indirect form of payment for those entitled to the collected remuneration. In the Amazon case, the remuneration was the result of private copying legislation providing for the payment of fair compensation for the damage caused by acts of private copying.Footnote 93 Against this background, the question arose as to what extent the partitioning of collected funds had to relate directly to the losses suffered by individual groups of authors. A similar question can be formulated with regard to AI remuneration: Is it necessary to align the distribution of collected AI levies strictly with the degree of displacement effects in different branches of journalism? If a strict link to the loss of job opportunities in a given segment is necessary, it seems difficult to spend a higher proportion of the collected remuneration on programmes supporting public interest journalism unless this type of journalism is also affected by replacement effects to a greater extent.
In Amazon, however, the CJEU referred to the fact that it was very difficult, if not impossible, to calculate the individual damage that an author suffered because of private copying. Considering this difficulty, the Court underlined that Member States enjoyed wide discretion in determining the form, the detailed arrangements, and the possible level of lump-sum remuneration.Footnote 94 In the exercise of this wide discretion, Member States were free to establish a system of indirect remuneration via social and cultural institutions.Footnote 95 Hence the Court itself did not insist on a system that distributes collected money meticulously on the basis of the individual harm suffered by an author because such a detailed calculation of individual damage was hardly possible. A parallel between this aspect of the Amazon case and output-based AI remuneration can easily be drawn. As in the case of private copying, it is hardly possible to calculate the exact damage that the offer and use of generative AI inflicts on an individual journalist. Hence the criterion of substitution effects underlying the proposed remuneration system for AI-generated output need not constitute an insurmountable hurdle to setting up social and cultural programmes with a particular focus on public interest journalism.
Second, the CJEU made it clear in Amazon that a system of indirect remuneration via social and cultural institutions must not be discriminatory. This further requirement could also be seen as an obstacle to the establishment of a system favouring public interest journalism. Stronger support for journalistic work with particular societal value could be regarded as an unfair discrimination against other forms of journalism, such as the rainbow press with glamorous and entertaining celebrity news. This conclusion, however, need not be the last word on the matter. Social and cultural funds can arrive at a distribution scheme that offers stronger support for public interest journalism while basing their sponsoring decisions on objective criteria, such as the extent to which extra financial support is necessary for a certain form of journalism in the era of generative AI systems that displaces human journalists while enhancing the risk of misinformation and disinformation.Footnote 96 Arguably, the need to foster human content production as a countermeasure to displacement effects caused by AI is stronger in the area of public interest journalism than in other fields of journalism, such as the tabloids.
Moreover, it must be considered that even if discrimination in favour of public interest journalism was found, this discrimination could be justified. Given the fundamental importance of public interest journalism – revealing societal problems and providing impulses for the improvement of societal conditions (the second remuneration argument developed in this chapter) – there is a sound justification for lending stronger support to journalists working in this area.Footnote 97 In fact, there is a strong tradition of positive discrimination for the benefit of public interest journalism in European media policy.Footnote 98 Following this tradition, the CJEU’s Amazon decision can be understood not to preclude the partitioning of collected AI remuneration in line with specific social and cultural objectives, such as the aim to ensure the survival of public interest journalism in the era of generative AI.
21.4.4 Foundation in Copyright Law
In addition to these conceptual considerations, the proposed AI levy system raises the legal-doctrinal question of whether copyright law offers a sufficient basis for a remuneration claim relating to AI output. Press and media content produced by a generative AI system need not display protected traces of a human journalistic work.Footnote 99 Compared to the AI training (input) perspective, the situation is different. During the AI training phase, protected human works are used as learning resources for the AI system. Hence there is a direct link between the machine-learning process and the use of protected works. Qualifying copies made for AI training purposes as relevant reproductions, the lawmaker can create a legal basis for a remuneration claim in copyright law.Footnote 100 With regard to AI output, the copyright basis for remuneration is less clear. Instead of reproducing individual expression – protected free, creative choices by a human journalistFootnote 101 – AI output may merely reflect unprotected news of the day, facts, concepts, and styles.Footnote 102
The absence of protected human expression in AI output, however, does not pose an insuperable obstacle. In fact, a copyright concept that, by analogy, can be invoked as a legal-doctrinal basis for the introduction of a lump-sum remuneration system focusing on AI output was developed in the last century. In the discussion on the so-called domaine public payant, Adolf Dietz explained in a landmark 1990 article that, in addition to traditional exploitation and remuneration rights of individual authors, it was consistent and advisable to recognise in copyright law a new right to which a different rightholder – the ‘community of authors’Footnote 103 – was entitled as a collective. Dietz pointed out that this step could be regarded as a corollary of a modern understanding of copyright law ‘as part of a more comprehensive concept of culture law’.Footnote 104 Once this broader role and responsibility of copyright is taken as a starting point, the law is no longer condemned to accept ‘harmful discrepancies’Footnote 105 between substantial profits made by exploiters of public domain works on the one hand, and precarious working and living conditions of current authors on the other.Footnote 106 Instead, copyright can be employed as a legal tool to introduce a remuneration right for the community of living and creating authors as a means of redress:
What we finally propose is simply to introduce another right owner, namely the community of living and creating authors, among several kinds of right owners already existing in copyright law. This community of authors should have the direct right to participate in the income from exploitation of works of dead authors after the individual term of copyright protection has expired.Footnote 107
As this statement indicates, Dietz developed his concept of a new right for the community of authors with a focus on the exploitation of works in the public domain. He placed his proposal in the context of the discussion on the domaine public payant that had gained momentum after the Second World War.Footnote 108 From his perspective, soaring prices and income from the exploitation of public domain works in the field of literature, music, and art should, ‘at least partly and proportionally, also serve the living and creating generation of authors’.Footnote 109 Evidently, the introduction of a new – collective – right to participate in revenue accruing from the exploitation of public domain works begs the question of how this new right of the community of living and creating authors might be exercised in practice. Dietz solves this problem by relying on the well-established system of collective rights management in Europe:
[T]here must be a natural or legal person or body ready to interfere and, in particular, to control the market and claim the participation right, if necessary in a lawsuit. In addition, this body must be able to distribute the incoming money according to statutory purposes and rules, preferably under government supervision. … We should not forget, however, that these kind of bodies already exist, and have done so for decades, in the form of collecting societies.Footnote 110
Before turning to parallels between this remuneration concept and the AI remuneration system discussed here, it is noteworthy that in the second half of the last century, the proposal of a domaine public payant did not remain a mere theoretical option. In Germany, it formed part of the official government proposal for new copyright legislation that was discussed in 1965.Footnote 111 Although the German legislator finally refrained from introducing a new remuneration right for the community of authors in the 1965 Copyright Act,Footnote 112 the fact that the domaine public payant was included in the government proposal shows that the concept and the underlying objective of improving the working and living conditions of authors had broad support in Germany.Footnote 113 An international UNESCO/WIPO survey conducted in 1982 also brought to light several starting points for implementing the domaine public payant in copyright law.Footnote 114 In more recent debates on recalibrating copyright, Rebecca Giblin confirmed the concept’s continued relevance and importance. In a critical assessment of the term of copyright protection, she qualified the domaine public payant as a useful reference point for her proposal to draw a clearer distinction between incentive and reward goals and introduce an opt-in ‘creator-right’ that would give authors access to remuneration systems in return for the registration of their works after an initial term of protection.Footnote 115
The parallels between the domaine public payant and the proposed output-based remuneration system in the area of generative AI are striking. Both concepts concern creations that fall outside the scope of the exploitation rights of copyright holders: literary and artistic works that never enjoyed, or no longer enjoy, copyright protection in the case of the domaine public payant; general news of the day, facts, concepts, and styles in the case of AI output that does not reproduce the individual protected expression of a human journalist. The precursor of the domaine public payant thus shows that potential legal-doctrinal concerns need not thwart the introduction of a remuneration system focusing on AI output. Even if AI output merely reflects unprotected news information, concepts, and styles, it is still possible and consistent to incorporate a lump-sum remuneration right in copyright law as a collective right of the community of journalists: a new right that is subject to mandatory collective rights management. As a new rightholder in copyright law, the community of journalistsFootnote 116 should be entitled to benefit from payments made under this new system. As explained, the collective remuneration right should be administered and enforced by CMOs that distribute collected money through repartitioning schemes and social and cultural funds.
Alternatively, it is possible to forge a link with the input/AI-training dimension and focus on the use of human training material as an indispensable precondition for AI output that resembles human press and media productions. As already pointed out, generative AI systems are capable of mimicking human press and media content only because the works of human authors have been used as training material at some stage.Footnote 117 Even in the case of AI systems trained on synthetic, machine-made literary and artistic material, the system’s capability to mimic human journalistic work can only be explained by the fact that human training resources played a role somewhere in the whole chain of training processes leading to the generative AI system producing output that resembles a human press or media production.
Considering this connection between input and output, it can be argued that remuneration for journalistic AI output must be paid because, directly or indirectly, this output is the result of the use of human works, including journalistic texts, photos, and videos, for AI training. AI input and output are two sides of the same coin: the payment of remuneration at the output level simply constitutes a deliberate choice of the legislator. Instead of placing heavy administrative and financial burdens on AI trainers,Footnote 118 the lawmaker can leave the training process (input dimension) unencumbered and take measures to compensate journalists when final AI products and services are offered in the marketplace and produce press and media content (output dimension). Using AI output as a reference point for remuneration, the legislator can also establish a strong link with the press and media sector: the remuneration for human journalists can be aligned with the extent of AI use in the sector. Even if an AI model has been trained on a broader spectrum of literary and artistic works – not only journalistic creations – the generation of AI output in press and media contexts ensures a clear connection with displacement effects that affect journalists. As discussed in Sections 21.2.2 and 21.2.3 (second and third arguments), this connection justifies the development of a remuneration system in favour of journalists – instead of aiming at compensating all authors whose works may have been employed for AI training purposes.
The detachment of the act triggering the payment obligation – the generation of AI output – from the act that provides the legal basis for the compensation claim – the use of human works for AI training – is not unusual in the area of lump-sum remuneration systems. In the context of private copying, for instance, the CJEU has explicitly recognised that EU Member States are free to impose an obligation to pay compensation for reproductions made by private users on manufacturers and importers of relevant copying equipment, devices, and media. Even though the act with copyright relevance – the private copying – will occur only after the equipment, devices, and media have reached end consumers, the payment obligation can be imposed on manufacturers and importers:
given the practical difficulties in identifying private users and obliging them to compensate rightholders for the harm caused to them, and bearing in mind the fact that the harm which may arise from each private use, considered separately, may be minimal and therefore does not give rise to an obligation for payment …, it is open to the Member States to establish a ‘private copying levy’ for the purposes of financing fair compensation chargeable not to the private persons concerned, but to those who have the digital reproduction equipment, devices and media and who, on that basis, in law or in fact, make that equipment available to private users or who provide copying services for them.Footnote 119
In the light of this existing configuration of levy systems in the area of private copying, it does not seem unusual – and perhaps even less unusual than a legal-doctrinal solution based on the domaine public payant – to simply delay the remuneration payment and take the AI production of press and media content as a reference point for compensating journalists for displacement effects caused by AI training with human works that enables the machine to become a competitor. This alternative legal-doctrinal approach also forges a link with proposals in the AI remuneration debate that seek to establish a lump-sum remuneration system at the AI training stage.Footnote 120 Arguing for the payment of remuneration later – when AI products and services are finally brought to the press and media market – it offers a practical solution that integrates all global remuneration approaches focusing on the use of human creations as training material for generative AI systems. It shows that there is common ground for all lump-sum remuneration proposals that seek to compensate human authors for the use of their works in AI training.
In sum, there are thus two legal-doctrinal avenues that can lead to the introduction of a lump-sum remuneration system focusing on the offer and use of generative AI systems in the press and media sector. On the one hand, the concept of domaine public payant offers a basis for establishing a collective right of the community of journalists – a new right that is subject to mandatory collective rights management – to receive remuneration for AI output that has the potential to replace human journalistic work. On the other hand, the focus can be on the use of human journalistic material as an indispensable precondition and training resource for AI systems capable of producing output that resembles human press and media productions. Following the example of levy systems in the area of private copying, it is possible to uncouple the act triggering the payment obligation from the act that provides the legal basis for the remuneration claim. Hence the legislator is free to delay the remuneration payment and take the production of AI press and media output as a reference point for compensating journalists.
21.5 Conclusion
Generative AI systems are likely to replace human journalistic work and usurp the market for human press and media productions. This development has a broader societal dimension. To enable journalists to fulfil their ‘watchdog’ function, draw attention to societal problems, and provide impulses for necessary changes, it is advisable to introduce remuneration rules that offer financial support for human journalistic work and, in particular, human public interest journalism.
In the EU, the rights reservation option following from Article 4(3) CDSMD – now flanked by AIA provisions – could serve as a basis for a remuneration system focusing on the use of human journalistic content for AI training. In practice, however, this new AI training income is likely to fill predominantly the pockets of large press and media companies that own impressive repertoires of journalistic works. Individual journalists whose works form part of these repertoires will not necessarily receive higher honoraria or an appropriate share of the new source of revenue.
Against this background, it is preferable to follow an alternative path and introduce an output-oriented remuneration system that imposes a general payment obligation on all providers and users of generative AI systems capable of replacing human press and media productions. This output-based approach imposes an obligation to pay remuneration on both AI companies offering generative AI systems and media companies using these systems in the press and media sector. The moment a press publisher or media company employs generative AI technology to replace human journalistic labour, this configuration of the system ensures that the press or media organisation is bound to pay remuneration for the use of AI. Moreover, the output-based approach can be combined with mandatory collective rights management to ensure payment directly to individual journalists in accordance with the repartitioning schemes of CMOs. The remuneration can also be used to finance social and cultural funds that support journalistic work. When distributing AI remuneration, social and cultural institutions are free to prioritise public interest journalism as a countermeasure to AI-generated misinformation and disinformation.