Australia's AI copyright laws: Protecting writers from 'brogrammers'
Australia’s creative landscape faces a pivotal moment as the Productivity Commission considers amending the nation’s Copyright Act to include exemptions for text and data mining. This potential legislative shift has ignited a fierce debate, with critics arguing it could devastate the livelihoods of writers and artists by allowing artificial intelligence (AI) models to freely consume their work.
Veteran journalist Tracey Spicer, reflecting on a career spanning from typewriters in 1987 Brisbane newsrooms to modern Macs, underscores that while the tools of storytelling evolve, the essence remains constant: human narratives that shape our understanding of the world. She points out that whether documenting political corruption, the human cost of industrial disease, or global social injustices, stories are the bedrock of society. Yet, in the digital age, these deeply human creations are increasingly subjected to “scraping”—a process where vast quantities of text and data are extracted, often without explicit permission or compensation. Spicer vividly likens this practice to removing “dirt,” suggesting a profound devaluation of creative output.
This extractive process, she argues, feeds the algorithms of generative AI, which then produce outputs that are often “flatter, less human, more homogenised.” Such AI-generated content frequently defaults to narratives centered on metropolitan areas, global north perspectives, and specific demographics, inadvertently sidelining the rich, diverse experiences of marginalized communities and individuals from remote regions. Spicer laments the potential loss of unique stories—like that of John, a 64-year-old from Traralgon who succumbed to asbestosis, or Raha, a seven-year-old from Jaipur facing grim choices—which are vital to understanding the complex human condition.
Spicer critiques the AI industry as a “venal money grab” by powerful entities, highlighting the irony that while these “oligarchs” fiercely protect the copyright of their own AI code, they simultaneously advocate for the free use of others’ creative works. She points to allegations that Meta has already used the work of thousands of Australian writers without permission. The Australia Institute further illustrates the issue with an analogy: imagining someone freely driving a rental car without payment or paperwork, only for the law to be changed to legalize such actions. Spicer, however, argues the impact is far deeper, likening it to “taking a piece out of someone’s soul.”
The Productivity Commission’s rationale for weakening copyright laws is rooted in the belief that it will spur innovation, projecting an estimated $116 billion economic windfall over the next decade from digital technologies. However, Spicer challenges this claim, asserting that the very purpose of the Copyright Act is to protect innovation in the form of creative endeavor. She argues that devaluing creative work and demolishing creators’ livelihoods undermines the very foundation of a vibrant society, suggesting that in this era of “techno-capitalism,” only innovation built by “brogrammers” seems to hold currency. This dynamic, she contends, amounts to a new form of “neocolonialism,” where Australian content is exploited by overseas companies to train their models, only to be sold back.
Beyond economic figures, Spicer urges a critical examination of what truly enhances productivity, citing practices like reducing distractions, treating workers with dignity, and even basic skills like touch-typing. She concludes by reminding readers that society is not merely an economy, and human beings are not automatons. The sharing of stories through various creative forms, she emphasizes, is fundamental to human evolution. Therefore, she cautions against blindly following the latest technological trends, urging careful consideration before sacrificing the bedrock of human creativity.