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Opportunities of Resistance: Irish Traditional Music and the Irish Music Rights Organisation 1995–2000

2012; Taylor & Francis; Volume: 35; Issue: 5 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1080/03007766.2012.709665

1740-1712

Anthony McCann,

Diverse Musicological Studies

Abstract In this paper the author outlines a series of encounters of resistance and conflict relating to the political and economic expansion of the Irish Music Rights Organisation (IMRO) during the years 1995–2000, with particular emphasis on the domain of Irish traditional music. Expansion across the Irish jurisdiction was the most significant aspect of the activities of the Irish Music Rights Organisation during the period 1995–2000, resulting in a series of controversies during the second half of the 1990s as people resisted that expansion, and an eruption of suspicion, if not paranoia, about IMRO's operations. Representatives of IMRO encountered fierce resistance as certain groups refused to comply with the purported need for IMRO licenses—in particular, primary schools, publicans, and, the main focus of this article, supporters of “Irish traditional music.” By the year 2000, however, what had been one of the most notorious organizations in the country had become one of the most accepted, in a complete and almost miraculous turnaround. This paper seeks to explain this unexpected turn of events. The author uses manifestations of resistance to IMRO's expansion to provide diagnostic opportunities with which to identify the process and practices of what he outlines as “enclosure”, that is, an expansionary social dynamic involving accelerative commodification of everyday life, emerging from dominant dispositional tendencies to “eliminate” uncertainty. Through this analysis, the author argues that conflictive moments of personal encounter in the contexts of “music and copyright” can serve as valuable diagnostic tools whereby the political consequences of legal doctrine can be made visible. Notes [1] Enforcement of the property right of copyright can be exercised by other persons by license or assignment (WIPO Citation5). When the representatives of the Irish Music Rights Organisation identify that a premises requires an IMRO license the proprietor is approached and asked to sign a standard public performance contract. The license granted by IMRO permits the licensee “to perform copyright music from the IMRO repertoire on the premises, in return for paying royalties to IMRO according to the applicable tariff” (Lyons 7). IMRO agents are granted a right of free entry, for monitoring purposes, to any premises which has been licensed. Licensing constituted the primary activity of the Irish Music Rights Organisation during the period 1995–2000, for “the licensing of works is how collectives earn their money” (Sinacore-Guinn Citation30). In 1999 licensing revenue for the Irish Music Rights Organisation came to IR£17,418,077. In 2000, the figure had risen to IR£19,457,780 (CitationIMRO Membership Newsletter (March)] 6). The performance royalty licensing rates vary greatly from premises to premises. They take account of the type and frequency of “performances,” the nature of the venue, and other variable conditions. Royalties are paid annually and in advance. This blanket license runs from year to year, until such time as the license is cancelled. Most music users will not attempt to contact licensing collectives. Often they will enter into a licensing agreement only upon threat of litigation (Sinacore-Guinn 36). As a result, collectives actively identify and pursue all potential music users: “It is an unfortunate fact of life that respect for the rights of creators is not the norm. A significant number of users avoid or even actively resist a collective's efforts to control the use of its repertoire of works. It is up to the collective to assert its rights and the rights of its affiliated rights owners in a way that will cause compliance” (Sinacore-Guinn 39). Strong-arm, coercive tactics, including litigation, are generally avoided, as they are costly and generate bad public relations. Nevertheless, licensing is the most debated and litigated area of collective administration worldwide (Sinacore-Guinn). In 1993 the Irish Music Rights Organisation paid out more than IR£47,000 in legal expenses (CitationCurran). By 1999 IMRO's legal, collection, and professional fees came to IR£476,258, a rise from IR£413,453 the previous year. If someone refuses to pay for an IMRO license when approached, then the organization has recourse to the Circuit Court. If a licensing agreement has been contracted but royalties are not paid, then the “music user” is sued by the Irish Music Rights Organisation as a commercial debtor. The use of debt-collection agencies is standard practice for IMRO as the last attempt at resolution before more substantial coercion. The use of persuasion is preferable for the organization, so significant efforts are made to convince users of the necessity for proper licensing. Often a performing rights society will undertake cultural activities, programs, and sponsorships in order to encourage the creation of new works, educate people as to the nature of creative rights, and garner support for those rights. The Irish Music Rights Organisation is very active in this regard. Such activities also perform the obvious functions of brand recognition and public relations. [2] According to the Irish Copyright and Related Rights Act, 2000, “copyright is a property right whereby, subject to this Act, the owner of the copyright in any work may undertake or authorise other persons in relation to that work to undertake certain acts in the State, being acts which are designated by this Act as acts restricted by copyright in a work of that description” (17.1). Copyright, then, is a set of prescriptions on the actions of others in relation to a “literary or artistic work” which control what can or cannot be done by other people in relation to that “work.” According to the Copyright and Related Rights Act, 2000 (4.37), the owner of a copyright has the exclusive right to undertake, or authorize others to undertake, all or any of the “acts restricted by copyright.” A person is understood to infringe the copyright in a work if he or she undertakes or authorizes another to undertake any of these acts without the license of the copyright owner. The acts restricted by copyright are as follows: (a) to copy the work; (b) to make the work available to the public; or (c) to make an adaptation of the work or to undertake either (a) or (b) in relation to an adaptation. The “performing right,” although not specifically mentioned in the Copyright and Related Rights Act, is generally understood to pertain to (b), making a work available to the public. If the act of copying is the first act which requires authorization, then the second is the act of public performance: “The right to control this act of public performance is of interest not only to the owners of copyright in works originally designed for public performance. It is of interest also to the owners of copyright, and to persons authorized by them, when others may wish to arrange the public performance of works originally intended to be used by being reproduced and published” (WIPO 155). This “performance” is often assumed (without much discussion) to be at least analogous to copying. This includes performing, showing, or playing a copy of the work in public; broadcasting a copy of the work in public; including a copy of the work in a cable program service; issuing copies of the work to the public; renting copies of the work; or, lending copies of the work without the payment of remuneration to the owner of the copyright in the work. Performing rights are statutory; that is, they exist solely and exclusively by virtue of the laws that create and recognize them (Sinacore-Guinn 14). [3] “The Oireachtas or National Parliament consists of the President, a House of Representatives (Dáil Éireann) and a Senate (Seanad Éireann). The Dáil, consisting of 166 members, is elected by adult suffrage on the Single Transferable vote system in constituencies of 3, 4 or 5 members. Of the 60 members of the Senate, 11 are nominated by the Taoiseach (Prime Minister), 6 are elected by the universities and the remaining 43 are elected from 5 panels of candidates established on a vocational basis, representing the following public services and interests: (1) national language and culture, literature, art, education and such professional interests as may be defined by law for the purpose of this panel; (2) agricultural and allied interests, and fisheries; (3) labour, whether organized or unorganized; (4) industry and commerce, including banking, finance, accountancy, engineering and architecture; (5) public administration and social services, including voluntary social activities. The electing body comprises members of the Dáil, Senate, county boroughs and county councils” (B. CitationTurner 439). [4] Fianna Fáil is the republican nationalist political party in the Republic of Ireland. [5] A similarly public outcry opposed the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers' decision in the summer of 1996 to approach Girl Scout camps in the United States for performance royalty licenses. The Wall Street Journal reported that ASCAP had informed camps across the United States that they must pay license fees to use any of the four million copyrighted songs written or published by ASCAP's 68,000 members. SESAC, another performing rights organization, also announced their intention to ask camps for royalties. Rather than risk lawsuits, many camps were provoked into excluding copyrighted songs from their activities. The Wall Street Journal article left the enduring image of 214 Girl Scouts at the Diablo Day Camp 3 p.m. sing-along, learning the Macarena dance: “Keeping time by slapping their hands across their arms and hips, they jiggle, hop and stomp. They spin, wiggle and shake. They bounce for two minutes. In silence” (CitationBannon). [6] As early, relatively speaking, as November 1993, IMRO had secured a licensing agreement with the Licensed Vintners' Association, which represented publicans in the Dublin area (Lyons). [7] “Sessions” can be adequately or inadequately described, but never adequately defined, for the term “session” can now be used as a label for any context in which two or more musicians or singers are gathered in social activity. In The Companion to Irish Traditional Music, Colin CitationHamilton describes a session as: “A loose association of musicians who meet, generally, but not always, in a pub to play an unpredetermined selection, mainly of dance music, but sometimes with solo pieces such as slow airs or songs. There will be one or more ‘more’ musicians, and others who are less regular” (345). Scholars such as Hamilton and Vaysse have noted that the character of each “session” ultimately arises from the personalities and social interaction of those engaged in the activity. In this sense, the meaning of the “term” session can really be adequately accounted for only by looking to the particular circumstances implied by those who use the term. Some would look to the metaphor of casual conversation to characterize the musical activity taking place in what they would term a “session”: “Going to the pub, it's just like going for a drink and telling stories, or telling jokes or whatever. We're just telling tunes” (J. McCarthy, qtd in Vaysse Citation165). This view would be consistent with the view of CitationFoy who, half-jokingly, describes a “session” as “a gathering of Irish traditional musicians for the purpose of celebrating their common interest in the music by playing it together in a relaxed, informal setting, while in the process generally beefing up the mystical cultural mantra that hums along uninterruptedly beneath all manifestations of Irishness worldwide…an elaborate excuse for getting out of the house and spending an evening with friends over a few pints of beer” (12–13). Perhaps the most important word in this description, for the purposes of this article, is “beer.” A detailed examination of relatively recent manifestations of the relationship between public houses and the “traditional session” is beyond the scope of this article, but this has already been explored in the works of Laurence Vaysse, Colin Hamilton, Hazel Fairbairn, and CitationMoya Kneafsey. To date, however, Reg CitationHall has been the only person to undertake a detailed historical investigation of this type of music-making in pubs before this date. Interestingly, Hall's study focuses on an English context. In a complex overview, Hall shows that among Irish immigrants in London such music-making was to be found in the local Irish pubs by the 1940s. Landlords who tolerated musicians carefully negotiated licensing laws that allowed only two musicians at a time, and, “[a]s musicians became confident in their new surroundings and as publicans realised their music-making attracted custom, the one-off, risky session became institutionalised as a regular weekly event, expected and looked forward to by musicians, landlord and customers alike” (5). As sessions became a regular occurrence in London pubs during the early 1950s a shift occurred: “it became common for landlords to pay two or three musicians for a session. The established practice of other musicians joining in was unchanged, and there was no embarrassment about some being paid and others not” (7). Vaysse (86) records that in Ireland payment for the “anchoring” of sessions has really become frequent only since the 1970s. As CitationHamilton notes, “As the session became a standard aspect of Irish musical life, publicans, keen to have their bars known as centres of good music, began, from around the middle of the 1970s, to pay one or two musicians to turn up on a regular night, to ensure that a session would happen. If this ‘seeding’ worked, the publican was guaranteed a regular core of perhaps half a dozen musicians at a small cost. Almost all the current regular sessions are based on this principle, but at festivals and other like events, sessions are still normally impromptu and non-commercial” (“Session” 345). As CitationFairbairn has found, however, payment is not always an issue, and often a more informal arrangement between musicians and publican “allows them an elevated status of desirable clients, rather than that of employees. This means that the landlord is beholden to the musicians, he knows that the music attracts custom, but has no contractual security. In this way the musicians ensure good treatment” (159). There are certainly some publicans with a personal fondness for particular musicians, and, indeed, with an interest and investment in what they consider “traditional music.” These “landlords” are often well-known and well-loved, and are often musicians or singers themselves. Often the relationship with a publican is nondescript, but functional. Hamilton notes that, “[e]ven in cases where the host provides no encouragement to the players in the way of money or free drink, he at least provides a place for them to play” (49). Many publicans, however, maintain a relationship with musicians that is at best business-like, and at worst testy and volatile. One city publican, for example, barred so many musicians from entering his pub during the 1990s that those nominated for prohibition gained a certain credibility among fellow musicians. That particular publican now runs a disco bar. [8] Why was the issue of “traditional sessions” brought into the dispute at all? Ultimately, as mentioned earlier, the aim of the Vintner Federation's negotiations with the Irish Music Rights Organisation was to reduce the level of tariffs for performing royalty blanket licenses. Many publicans felt that the issue of “traditional sessions” could lead to a reduction in payments for licenses. It was assumed that the “use” of “traditional music” or the hosting of “traditional sessions” was qualitatively different from other “uses” of music. Two claims were made by publicans. The first was that they should not have to pay performance royalties for “traditional sessions” at all. The second was that “traditional sessions” should not be charged as much as other musical events. The first claim made by publicans stemmed from the assumption that music that was considered “traditional” was automatically “noncopyright.” This ran along the same lines as a much-repeated exclamation I have regularly encountered in conversation: “But there is no copyright in traditional music!” The answer that the representatives of the Irish Music Rights Organisation offered to this argument was the following, from a letter to a publican: “I wish to explain that our interest lies in the public performance of copyright music and as traditional does not automatically mean non-copyright we are therefore pursuing royalties with you for these performances” (personal communication). There are two ways in which this line from IMRO may be interpreted. One is to assume that the word “traditional” refers to anything that for all intents and purposes “sounds traditional”—that is, sonic forms which seem to conform to the genre limitations of what, in the opinion of the IMRO representative or the publican, is commonly considered to be “traditional music.” The other is to assume that the representative of the Irish Music Rights Organisation is equating “traditional” with “anonymous” and, hence, with “public domain.” In this scenario the IMRO representative would be referring to the practice in which some musicians engage in copyrighting “arrangements” of “traditional,” understood as “public domain,” tunes or songs. They thereby secure a 100% performance royalty for any performance of the arrangement which they have recorded in some form, and, importantly, which they have registered with IMRO or some other performing right organization. Every time they or someone else plays that “arrangement,” they are due a royalty. By contracting with IMRO for a blanket license, the publican gains permission for the “use” of the worldwide repertoire of copyrighted material. The onus, then, was on each publican to prove that not one copyrighted work or copyrighted arrangement of a “public domain” work was “used” on whichever night might be in question. This was an impossible task for publicans. They had no way of predicting or prescribing what might be played or sung after they had paid for the blanket license in advance. Also, it was unlikely that they would bother to record and classify each incidence of music or song on the nights in question in order eventually to show that no copyrighted material was “used.” It was easier to pay the few extra pounds for the tariff. The second claim, that “traditional sessions” should not be charged as much as other musical events, stemmed from the understanding that the majority of tunes played or songs sung at “traditional sessions” were “traditional,” implying that they were therefore “anonymous,” therefore “public domain,” and that therefore a reduction in the amount paid could be justified. It was also argued that a standard tariff for “sessions” did not discriminate between different premises and the vast range of social contexts to be found in pubs. Vallely quotes the then Vintners' Federation Chairman, Tadhg O'Sullivan, as saying: “The pub session is not full-blooded, public entertainment, and players' arrangements are not new tunes…and anyway, the way that IMRO levies charges, why should a Kerry pub that has only a handful of customers at a session for the whole winter be obliged to pay the same as a similar premises in Dublin that is packed the year round?” (qtd in Vallely ”Save”). Again, with both blanket licenses and the practice of copyrighting “arrangements,” there was no need for IMRO to concede a reduction in tariffs on this account, at least not on the basis of the publicans' reasoning. It was interesting that an issue was made of “traditional music” at all, or that the representatives of the Irish Music Rights Organisation were drawn into a discussion concerning it. If one were to follow the logic dictated by copyright there should have been no distinction drawn between one type of music and another on the basis of genre (see WIPO). Within the logic of copyright discourse a “work” has either been copyrighted or it has not, is either in copyright or is not. If the status of a “work” is in question, genre should not enter into the issue, in the same way that aesthetic worth should not be taken into consideration for a work's originality requirement (CitationSherman). Concessions, however, were granted to publicans, on a number of occasions. The “session issue” was arguably, then, only brought into negotiations by the Vintners' Federation of Ireland (VFI) in order to seek further reductions on the blanket licensing tariffs which they were contesting with the Irish Music Rights Organisation. [9] As Terry Eagleton has noted, the word “crack” or “craic” is “rapidly approaching the status of ‘begorrah.’” Most likely etymologically Anglo-Saxon rather than Gaelic, the term most commonly refers in Ireland to an atmosphere of comfortable and pervasive conviviality, a complete absence of distrust in pleasant, relaxed, and relaxing company, most likely among friends. Heightened euphoria is not a necessary requirement. Those who wish to understand, participate in, or experience “crack” or “craic” must commit themselves to its creation. Ciarán Carson indulges in a digression on the subject during his book Last Night's Fun: “‘crack’…popularly and recently Gaelicised as craic and advertised in countless retro-renovated bars throughout the land, as in ‘Live Ceol [Music], Sandwiches and Craic’. Non Irish speakers in particular will insist on its ancient Gaelic lineage and will laboriously enunciate this shibboleth to foreigners who take it for a pharmacological rather than a social high. In fact, the Oxford English Dictionary dates crack, ‘chat, talk of the news’, to 1450” (83). CitationCarson suggests that “crack” as a term was, until fairly recently, primarily confined to the North of Ireland. [10] It is really only in the last ten years that the issue of copyright has become familiar to people in “traditional” social circles. Before then it was of interest mainly to collectors and archivists, and to the commercially viable performers who always seemed to learn more about copyright in the aftermath of a shady deal than they ever knew going into one. But even then, it was not of any major concern to most people. As CitationNicholas Carolan, Director of the Irish Traditional Music Archive in Dublin, remembers it: “One had heard various stories, say, about how Planxty were ripped off, and they weren't making any money from their own records and that kind of thing, but that was so far removed from the experience of most people involved in traditional music. It was interesting but that was all it was. It wasn't personally pertinent” (Interview). [11] You can find IRTRAD-L at < http://listserv.heanet.ie>. [12] The reasons that a publican might have for closing down a session are many and varied, and musicians would be as likely to find as many reasons to move on to another venue. Regular reasons include personality clashes, changes to new ownership less appreciative of “traditional music,” or changes in the personality of an upwardly mobile “local” that gets transformed into a spacious and trendy “superpub” in a bid to maximize income. Hosting a session might simply not be financially viable. A restaurant proprietor in Galway once expressed surprise to me, not that musicians were paid so little for a session, but that they were paid so much. Apparently, she felt, to offset the expense of musicians a publican would have to sell three times as much in value of alcohol to make it worth his or her while. For smaller pubs this is unlikely to happen. This would suggest that musicians in these smaller venues would be unlikely to be paid. It might also suggest that any “traditional” musical activity in these pubs at all is an indication that neither musicians nor publican are particularly interested in framing the “session” in terms of financial potential. [13] According to one musician, the only direct knock-on effect of IMRO's licensing demands on sessions was that many publicans placed a moratorium on new sessions. Even this attitude lasted for only a short period, however, and, following the VFI agreement, things pretty much returned to normal (Hammond, “Personal Interview”). [14] An overview of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann has already been provided by CitationHenry and by CitationVallely (”Comhaltas”). A number of key points will be here drawn from these accounts, and from examination of the CCÉ Constitution (CCÉ, Bunreacht). The constitution of Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann lays claim to non-denominational and non-political status. The constitution indicates that membership is open to all who sympathize with the aims and objectives of the organization, and who undertake to abide by its constitution and rules. Those whose actions are interpreted as being in opposition to the aims of the organization are liable to suffer expulsion. The specific goals of the organization, set forth in the constitution, are as follows: 1. To promote Irish Traditional Music in all its forms; 2. To restore the playing of the Harp and Uilleann Pipes in the National life of Ireland; 3. To promote Irish Traditional Dancing; 4. To foster and promote the Irish language at all times; 5. To create a closer bond among all lovers of Irish music; 6. To cooperate with all bodies working for the restoration of Irish Culture; 7. To establish Branches throughout the country and abroad to achieve the foregoing aims and objects. (CCÉ, Bunreacht 3–5) There are reportedly over 400 branches of the organization in Ireland and internationally. The primary roles of these branches are the recruitment of new members and the teaching of Irish traditional music and dance. A series of competitions is held every year on a pyramidal county, provincial, and national basis. The final competition is an annual festival called Fleadh Cheoil na hÉireann, or All-Ireland Fleadh, which draws competitors from an international catchment who have qualified from earlier rounds. Administrative levels of the organization include the branches, the county boards, and the provincial councils, all of which are overseen by a central executive council (CEC), based in Dublin. The CEC has a president, general secretary, five vice-chairpersons, a national treasurer, a national registrar, a competitions officer, a music officer, a public relations officer, and two delegates from each provincial council. Permanent trustees are appointed by the CEC. They are responsible for instituting any criminal or civil proceedings on the organization's behalf. The property of the organization is vested in the trustees. The Central Executive Council meets three times a year to direct the policy of the organization and to decide on the venue for the All-Ireland Fleadh. Once a year a congress is held, which is attended by the members of the central executive council, two delegates from each branch, and two delegates from each county board. [15] In the editorial of the second issue of Treoir in 1998 it was stated: “At the Stockholm conference there was widespread concern at the possibility of a nation's store of traditional music falling into private commercial hands as has already happened in some countries. This has obvious connotations for Ireland” (Ó Murchú, “Eagarfhocal/Editorial” 1). What those connotations might be was not stated. [16] “Now there'd be a very small section of musicians, and I'd say it would be very small, and particularly in more recent times, may see some advantage in a copyright-type situation, but it raises huge questions, then, for the whole body of Irish traditional musicians” (Ó Murchú, Personal interview). [17] “Now obviously a newly composed song could be copyrighted, if that is the wish of the author. Our hope would be that they wouldn't do that, that they would contribute that song to the corpus of traditional music like they themselves had got their songs from previous generations. We'd be looking for a degree of generosity there.” (Ó Murchú, Personal interview). [18] “But once it becomes widely known through debate as to what the intention is, then I think yes there will be alarm bells set off in the minds of a lot of musicians each time they go to play a tune, whether they're playing in a pub, or in a concert, or in a session, I think they're going to say, ‘we can play the first two reels, but we can't play the third reel.’ Now you can see what that will do to music making” (Ó Murchú, Personal interview). [19] “I think it's still vital that the individual musician feels free to hear a tune or tape it and replay it and not be wondering whether somebody is policing them and whether there's a royalty involved. I think IMRO have to alter the equation. They tell us they have, IMRO are telling us there's no danger to traditional music.” (Ó Murchú, Personal interview). [20] A sliotar is a leather ball, approximately the size of a tennis ball, which is used in the game of hurling, one of Ireland's “national” sports. A sliotar can also be referred to as a “hurley ball.” To “hurl a sliotar” is to hit the ball with a hurling stick (camán), which stands waist-high and is normally made of ash. [21] This apparently did not stem the flow of opposition, however. In a representation to the Irish Senate in June 1998, Labhrás Ó Murchú likened the “inherent dangers in copyright law” to the decree by “a Queen of England” which called for all pipers and harpists to be hanged. This refers to a request made by Elizabeth I to Lord Barrymore to “hang the harpers wherever found” (see CitationThuente). [22] By October 1999 the IMRO Members Newsletter extended the remit of the agreement in paradoxically more vague and more specific terms: “Under the agreement IMRO will provide sponsorship for various events and will make available its experts for lectures and curriculum design. CCE [sic], in return, will support IMRO and its activities both nationally and internationally.” [23] “Clearly, for pure traditional music which is, by definition, without an author, and for which the question of originality cannot arise, there is no reason primary copyright should attach to it at all. Copyright considerations would not affect the right of players to play music which is part of a genuine traditional community resource and over which no primary copyright interest can exist…. With regards to how disputes in this grey area might be avoided, I believe that interested parties, both in respect of traditional music and of music copyright, have a serious responsibility to behave sensibly and reasonably towards each other in asserting their respective rights. In this context, I welcome the recent demarcation agreement between Comhaltas Ceoltóirí Éireann and the Irish Music Rights Organisation which should go a long way to ensuring that unnecessary and damaging disputes on such issues within the music community are avoided” (Kitt Citation15). [24] The claim to unanimity was patently untrue, as some dissension had been voiced at the meeting, and the “ongoing discussions” between the organizations primarily meant that Labhrás Ó Murchú was still communicating with officials from the Irish Music Rights Organisation. [25] An interesting development in the discourse available to Treoir readers in this article was the presence of acronyms, phrases, and taxonomy more familiar to the members of IMRO than to the members of Comhaltas. Using the rhetoric of “protection,” “challenge,” and “opportunity,” in the space of three short paragraphs the article managed to shore up the joint activities of CCÉ and IMRO with the legitimating support of the WTO (World Trade Organization) intellectual property negotiations, of the EU (European Union) Rental and Lending Directive, and of Comhaltas members in the USA and UK. “The possibilities,” it reported, “of Comhaltas members in the US and the UK who create new music in these territories joining IMRO is at an advanced stage [sic]” (CCÉ, “Protection” 19). [26] The fact that this was simply a rhetorical phrase to paper over conceptual cracks and stop people asking questions was certainly not a point that any of those leading the meeting were willing to dwell on. It remains a catchy phrase that does not really change anything as far as copyright or legislation is concerned. [27] I am reminded of the words of poet John Clare, that “enclosure had a terrible but instructive visibility” (cited in CitationThompson, Customs 180).