My, but it has been a long time since I last blogged, hasn’t it? But here comes a subject that I can’t say nothing about, even if it isn’t directly related to this blog, or even to me. You see, I’m not a woman. I am, however, a man who was brought up to treat strangers with respect.
As such, I have always been disappointed at the amount of trolling on the internet: there seems to be a class of people who have nothing better to do all day than say nasty things to people they have never actually met. My method of dealing with this, and my advice to others, has always been to quietly delete it and not give the trolls the attention they deserve. Up to a point, I stand by that advice. But only up to that point.
It works for low level trolling, the pathetic attempt to elicit a response from somebody by throwing stupid and vague insults at them. Refuse to rise to the bait, and they go away.
The point beyond which a response is demanded is when specific threats of violence are made, especially when they involve sexual violence and especially when they are made in such numbers that actual debate is no longer possible. Even if those threats are not at all credible (and most are not), they are deeply intimidating. The problem is, especially with such threats and insults directed by men at women, that they are often made with the assumption that the victims should put up and shut up; ignoring them is exactly that, and exactly what the perpetrators want.
I don’t know if the problem has only recently got suddenly much worse, or if it has always been bad. This is because only recently have some of the victims started kicking up a fuss. Are they kicking up a fuss in response to increased trolling, or because after years of silence their patience has finally snapped?
In Britain, this has become a hot topic recently. It first hove into sight on my personal horizon with reports about Professor Mary Beard, a professor of classics who has presented some TV shows about Roman history, and who voiced some opinions of her own on the subject of immigration. People — I should say men — who disagreed with her expressed their disagreement not with reasoned argument, but with nasty comments about her appearance and, yes, threats of sexual violence. Professor Beard’s tactic has been not to shut up, but to retweet some of the offending comments. In one recent case, one of her followers offered to send her the troll’s mother’s address, upon which the troll removed the offending tweet and issued a profound apology, thus neatly fitting into the classic stereotype of the internet troll.
This isn’t the only case, and in the last few days the issue has really hurled itself at the top of the agenda. When it was revealed that, in one of the neverending redesigns to British banknotes, Elizabeth Fry would be replaced by Winston Churchill, meaning that the only woman on British banknotes would henceforth be the Queen herself, a certain Caroline Criado Perez successfully campaigned for one of the other banknotes to feature a woman (in a few years, we can expect to see Jane Austen on the £10 note). All well and good, but Ms Criado Perez was immediately subject to a torrent of vile abuse, about one abusive tweet every minute for a sustained period. But she refused to shut up about it, and so ensured that it would become news, and even the police, hitherto reluctant to get involved in policing the internet (for all kinds of reasons, not least the difficulty and time involved in tracing anonymous tweeters) investigated and have started making arrests.
Then a Member of Parliament, Stella Creasy, spoke up in support of Ms Criado Perez, and was herself subject to similar abuse. Meanwhile, another MP, Claire Perry, made some comments about internet pornography and found herself the target of abuse as well.
The thing is that these instances go beyond just unkind comments and pubescent crudeness. We’re talking about threats that are graphic enough to be actually illegal, and certainly far too graphic for me to want to repeat them here. And whole armies of men are standing on the sidelines, cheering on the trolls and talking about “free speech” and “it’s just a joke”.
Except that it’s not just a joke. Rape isn’t a laughing matter, and some professional comedians really need to be taught the difference between “edgy” and “offensive” (yes, Mr Jimmy Carr, I’m looking at you). The oft-repeated justification that every good joke is bound to be offensive to somebody may be true, but this doesn’t mean that everything that is offensive is a good joke.
My intention here is not to try to point the finger of blame at anyone, but there comes a point where any reasonable person has to say that things have gone way too far and we need to stop. There is quite simply no justification at all for anyone to threaten physical or sexual violence, even “as a joke”. The intention is very obviously to use intimidation and harassment to silence women with strong or unpopular views.
I live in Germany, where any time an extremist right-wing organisation demonstrates, a counter-demonstration of angry local residents, determined to show that they will not tolerate such views, is hastily organised. In once case not far from here, a local priest ordered the church bells to be rung to drown out an inflammatory speech at a right-wing rally.
Journalist Caitlin Moran has suggested that people should boycott Twitter for a day in protest, but it has been pointed out that if such a boycott worked, it would leave Twitter to the trolls, exactly what they’re trying to achieve.
No, we need the opposite. I’m not usually one for online protests, changing all my avatars to show my support for this, that and the other, mostly because I feel them ineffective. That’s because the issues, such pressuring the US Congress to pass a certain law, aren’t affected by what happens online. I always consider it a lazy way to appear to be active without actually doing anything.
But here is an issue that is actually online to begin with, and it relates directly to how people use social media. The message we are trying to convey is directed specifically at online users and hosts.
There have been real life demonstrations by men against domestic violence. So I think men need to demonstrate online against online violence. Rather than leaving it up to the victims, who, when they speak out, are accused of “whining”, it is men who should be standing up and saying: “Enough is enough: we will not allow our mothers, our sisters, our wives, our girlfriends, our daughters to be treated this way.”
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Making a video
Not everybody, it seems, appreciates just how much work actually goes into making even a deceptively simple video. My latest video, for example, consists of me talking to camera in pretty much one take for five minutes, plus a few modest visual effects. It is, in fact, this video:
Nothing to it, right?
Wrong.
Here are all the stages I had to go through to make this video. It took me the best part of two days (I probably could have done it in one if real life didn’t get in the way).
Initial research. This involves finding out about what I want to talk about, which is things you might want to do if you’re in Germany in June. And this involves trawling the internet, looking for likely candidates. Out of countless hundreds on offer, from barbecues to rock festivals, I noted down about twenty-four that caught my eye.
Narrowing down. Having got my shortlist, I had to whittle it down to a small number (I ended up with seven), because frankly, a half-hour video was never going to be an option. The goal was to end up with a mix of different types of festival scattered about Germany. Among those that, for different reasons, went by the wayside were Luther’s Wedding in Wittenberg, the Strawberry Festival in Wolgast, the Ironman contest in Berlin, the Kite Festival in Wyk auf Föhr and (most regretfully of all) the Great Boiled Potato Feast in Nienburg.
Further research. The things left on my final list had to researched more fully, including looking up the official websites (if any). It’s no good, for example, just saying that there is a festival called the Röbeler Fischtage; you might want to know what happens at that festival, and what kind of fish is involved in what way.
Graphics. Each one of the maps is a separate graphic. I don’t have graphics for every single town and city in Germany, so I have to make new ones.
Rehearsal. I want to speak as fluently as possible without reading off a script (although having a list in my hand is pretty much necessary). That means walking about the house talking to myself for a couple of hours.
Setting up. This means setting up the camera and the lighting, and making sure everthing is working properly.
Filming. Even after all that rehearsal, nothing ever goes smoothly while filming. I managed to get through the piece in one go about three times, but each successful attempt was preceded by several false starts, fluffed lines and the like. Because I wanted to do it in one take, each mistake meant starting from scratch. At one point, the battery died, so I had to take the spare and refocus the camera.
Editing. This is almost the easiest part. First I got the most successful shot, added the intro and outro, and then added the other visuals on top.
Rendering. This is the name given to the process whereby the video editor takes the project and uses it to generate an actual video file. This takes half an hour or so.
Review. Simply watching the video to make sure everything went according to plan.
Writing the subtitles. Now I have to write the subtitles, which I do by hand as this is much more reliable and actually less hassle than letting some unpredictable automated system loose on it.
Thumbail. The custom thumbnail comes next, a simple design which takes just a few minutes.
Upload. This took about an hour to upload to YouTube on my connection. This is nail-biting stuff, as any little glitch or power failure could wreck your plans for the rest of the day. This is also where I get to write the video description, with all the handy links to websites for all the events I mentioned.
Adding subtitles and testing them. Subtitles are uploaded separately. I then have to review the video to make certain the subtitles are completely correct, making final edits as necessary.
Publishing. That's just a simple matter of switching the uploaded video to “Public”.
So there you have it. One simple five-minute video: that’s how totally not easy it is.
Nothing to it, right?
Wrong.
Here are all the stages I had to go through to make this video. It took me the best part of two days (I probably could have done it in one if real life didn’t get in the way).
Initial research. This involves finding out about what I want to talk about, which is things you might want to do if you’re in Germany in June. And this involves trawling the internet, looking for likely candidates. Out of countless hundreds on offer, from barbecues to rock festivals, I noted down about twenty-four that caught my eye.
Narrowing down. Having got my shortlist, I had to whittle it down to a small number (I ended up with seven), because frankly, a half-hour video was never going to be an option. The goal was to end up with a mix of different types of festival scattered about Germany. Among those that, for different reasons, went by the wayside were Luther’s Wedding in Wittenberg, the Strawberry Festival in Wolgast, the Ironman contest in Berlin, the Kite Festival in Wyk auf Föhr and (most regretfully of all) the Great Boiled Potato Feast in Nienburg.
Further research. The things left on my final list had to researched more fully, including looking up the official websites (if any). It’s no good, for example, just saying that there is a festival called the Röbeler Fischtage; you might want to know what happens at that festival, and what kind of fish is involved in what way.
Graphics. Each one of the maps is a separate graphic. I don’t have graphics for every single town and city in Germany, so I have to make new ones.
Rehearsal. I want to speak as fluently as possible without reading off a script (although having a list in my hand is pretty much necessary). That means walking about the house talking to myself for a couple of hours.
Setting up. This means setting up the camera and the lighting, and making sure everthing is working properly.
Filming. Even after all that rehearsal, nothing ever goes smoothly while filming. I managed to get through the piece in one go about three times, but each successful attempt was preceded by several false starts, fluffed lines and the like. Because I wanted to do it in one take, each mistake meant starting from scratch. At one point, the battery died, so I had to take the spare and refocus the camera.
Editing. This is almost the easiest part. First I got the most successful shot, added the intro and outro, and then added the other visuals on top.
Rendering. This is the name given to the process whereby the video editor takes the project and uses it to generate an actual video file. This takes half an hour or so.
Review. Simply watching the video to make sure everything went according to plan.
Writing the subtitles. Now I have to write the subtitles, which I do by hand as this is much more reliable and actually less hassle than letting some unpredictable automated system loose on it.
Thumbail. The custom thumbnail comes next, a simple design which takes just a few minutes.
Upload. This took about an hour to upload to YouTube on my connection. This is nail-biting stuff, as any little glitch or power failure could wreck your plans for the rest of the day. This is also where I get to write the video description, with all the handy links to websites for all the events I mentioned.
Adding subtitles and testing them. Subtitles are uploaded separately. I then have to review the video to make certain the subtitles are completely correct, making final edits as necessary.
Publishing. That's just a simple matter of switching the uploaded video to “Public”.
So there you have it. One simple five-minute video: that’s how totally not easy it is.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Why I won’t endorse a political party
Last week, comedienne Susan Calman appeared on a satirical BBC radio show, The News Quiz. On it, she had to answer a question about the pending referendum on independence for Scotland. Being the consummate satirist that she is, she poked fun at politicians on both sides, but consistently refused to state which side of the debate she was on. With good reason: her job is not to tell us what we should think, but to bring the politicians down to earth and expose their little hypocrisies.
As she relates on her blog, things got out of hand, and she found herself on the receiving end of some particularly nasty abuse.
I’m not really a political satirist, although I have come close on occasion. I have certainly expressed political views in my time, but I rather imagine — hope, really — that those who don’t know me personally would have a hard time pinning me down to one particular political ideology or party. Basically, I try, in public, to be apolitical — not for exactly the same reasons as Susan Calman, but certainly because I want to maintain my image as the outsider looking in: the curious and slightly perplexed man with his nose pressed up against the glass trying to work out the rules of the game being played within. If I compromise that, I am no longer credible as an innocent bystander.
I say this because today I was asked by somebody I happen to know if I would appear, if his political career takes off, in a party political video with him.
Well, no.
There are some things I can’t really avoid. If his party wants to embed one of my videos on its website, then fine: it’s a legitimate party, I have not disabled embedding, if they think it will do them any good, okay. This is the internet, links happen.
Just not in any way that implies I endorse the party or any of their candidates. Or in a context that distorts the import of what I was actually saying in the video.
But actually appear in a video made for party political reasons? Never.
Similarly, if any party, as long as it is legal under the German Basic Law, wants me to make a party political video for them, then okay — but I won’t have my name or my face associated with it.
I believe that all political debate is important (until you get into the outer reaches of the fruitcake zone), and that even unpalatable or unpopular views should be heard, if only so that facts and arguments from the other side of the debate can be brought to the table. We live in a democracy, and this is what democracy means. If a party wants to ban women from voting, let them say so, so that other parties can remind us why women should be allowed to vote. And if celebrities want to endorse those views, that is their business. (Am I celebrity? I’ve just been asked to help somebody’s political career by endorsing it, so I feel like a celebrity.)
But to everyone out there who watches my videos, reads this blog and follows me on Twitter: I promise that you will not see me endorse anyone. Maybe a product, if it’s a product a genuinely like. But not a political party. I have built up a reputation as an outsider, and this extends beyond my de facto status as a foreign national. And that, at least in public, is how I intend to remain.
As she relates on her blog, things got out of hand, and she found herself on the receiving end of some particularly nasty abuse.
I’m not really a political satirist, although I have come close on occasion. I have certainly expressed political views in my time, but I rather imagine — hope, really — that those who don’t know me personally would have a hard time pinning me down to one particular political ideology or party. Basically, I try, in public, to be apolitical — not for exactly the same reasons as Susan Calman, but certainly because I want to maintain my image as the outsider looking in: the curious and slightly perplexed man with his nose pressed up against the glass trying to work out the rules of the game being played within. If I compromise that, I am no longer credible as an innocent bystander.
I say this because today I was asked by somebody I happen to know if I would appear, if his political career takes off, in a party political video with him.
Well, no.
There are some things I can’t really avoid. If his party wants to embed one of my videos on its website, then fine: it’s a legitimate party, I have not disabled embedding, if they think it will do them any good, okay. This is the internet, links happen.
Just not in any way that implies I endorse the party or any of their candidates. Or in a context that distorts the import of what I was actually saying in the video.
But actually appear in a video made for party political reasons? Never.
Similarly, if any party, as long as it is legal under the German Basic Law, wants me to make a party political video for them, then okay — but I won’t have my name or my face associated with it.
I believe that all political debate is important (until you get into the outer reaches of the fruitcake zone), and that even unpalatable or unpopular views should be heard, if only so that facts and arguments from the other side of the debate can be brought to the table. We live in a democracy, and this is what democracy means. If a party wants to ban women from voting, let them say so, so that other parties can remind us why women should be allowed to vote. And if celebrities want to endorse those views, that is their business. (Am I celebrity? I’ve just been asked to help somebody’s political career by endorsing it, so I feel like a celebrity.)
But to everyone out there who watches my videos, reads this blog and follows me on Twitter: I promise that you will not see me endorse anyone. Maybe a product, if it’s a product a genuinely like. But not a political party. I have built up a reputation as an outsider, and this extends beyond my de facto status as a foreign national. And that, at least in public, is how I intend to remain.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
YouTube: more sophisticated captions
As my regular viewers probably know, I always add closed captions to my videos. Not only do I have an audience split between English-speakers and German-speakers, but I also have a fair sprinkling of hearing-impaired viewers. It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.
Hitherto, YouTube has only officially supported two formats: SubRip and SubViewer. Both are good, both are easy to do by hand (they’re simple text files), both work, but both were only supported to the extent of their official specifications: no formatting of any kind.
When I uploaded my latest video, I noticed that YouTube had quietly introduced support for a raft of additional formats.
This is excellent news, particularly for professional broadcasters, who can now use broadcast-quality standards like EIA-608 for NTSC systems and EBU-STL for PAL. This gives them, assuming YouTube has implemented full support, a lot of flexibility regarding formatting, colours and so on.
For those of us stuck somewhere in the middle, for whom broadcast standard captions are a quagmire of technical jiggery-pokery, YouTube has provided at least partial support for some simpler formats that allow a slightly greater degree of flexibility.
One of those is a relatively new standard called WebVTT, which is designed primarily to allow browsers to implement captions and subtitles for HTML5 playback. Browsers don’t yet support this, but will do (we hope) in the future; since YouTube will eventually — even if it takes a few more years — move over to HTML5 video playback, support for WebVTT would seem the logical thing to do.
WebVTT is particularly attractive to me, because it is basically SubRip plus a few extra features; and I’ve been using SubRip ever since I started captioning my videos.
There are a few things YouTube’s implementation of WebVTT won’t do. Many features, notably colour, would normally be implemented by using stylesheet rules, but for the most basic reasons of security, YouTube can’t let you manipulate the site’s stylesheets. But other features implemented in the caption file itself also aren’t supported: position, alignment and size. (However, including the code for these features doesn’t throw up an error.)
What does work for WebVTT is italics, bold and underlining. Not much, but better than nothing, and it does enable you to add a little more expression, or differentiate between two speakers. YouTube also allows you to insert comments (which are not displayed).
I uploaded a test caption file to a video I had on my test account. You’ll see the formatting early on in the video (later in the video I experimented with the other features, which didn’t work). The button to enable captions is at the bottom, near the right, labelled either “CC” or with an icon representing subtitles at the bottom of a TV screen. Go here to watch the video.
If you are already familar with SubRip, as I was, the changes are minimal:
4
00:00:08,600 --> 00:00:11,520
The microphone is a Rode Videomic,
And here it is converted to WebVTT, with the words “Rode Videomic” in italics:
4
00:00:08.600 --> 00:00:11.520
The microphone is a <i>Rode Videomic</i>,
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is pretty much it.
Hitherto, YouTube has only officially supported two formats: SubRip and SubViewer. Both are good, both are easy to do by hand (they’re simple text files), both work, but both were only supported to the extent of their official specifications: no formatting of any kind.
When I uploaded my latest video, I noticed that YouTube had quietly introduced support for a raft of additional formats.
This is excellent news, particularly for professional broadcasters, who can now use broadcast-quality standards like EIA-608 for NTSC systems and EBU-STL for PAL. This gives them, assuming YouTube has implemented full support, a lot of flexibility regarding formatting, colours and so on.
For those of us stuck somewhere in the middle, for whom broadcast standard captions are a quagmire of technical jiggery-pokery, YouTube has provided at least partial support for some simpler formats that allow a slightly greater degree of flexibility.
One of those is a relatively new standard called WebVTT, which is designed primarily to allow browsers to implement captions and subtitles for HTML5 playback. Browsers don’t yet support this, but will do (we hope) in the future; since YouTube will eventually — even if it takes a few more years — move over to HTML5 video playback, support for WebVTT would seem the logical thing to do.
WebVTT is particularly attractive to me, because it is basically SubRip plus a few extra features; and I’ve been using SubRip ever since I started captioning my videos.
There are a few things YouTube’s implementation of WebVTT won’t do. Many features, notably colour, would normally be implemented by using stylesheet rules, but for the most basic reasons of security, YouTube can’t let you manipulate the site’s stylesheets. But other features implemented in the caption file itself also aren’t supported: position, alignment and size. (However, including the code for these features doesn’t throw up an error.)
What does work for WebVTT is italics, bold and underlining. Not much, but better than nothing, and it does enable you to add a little more expression, or differentiate between two speakers. YouTube also allows you to insert comments (which are not displayed).
I uploaded a test caption file to a video I had on my test account. You’ll see the formatting early on in the video (later in the video I experimented with the other features, which didn’t work). The button to enable captions is at the bottom, near the right, labelled either “CC” or with an icon representing subtitles at the bottom of a TV screen. Go here to watch the video.
If you are already familar with SubRip, as I was, the changes are minimal:
- The file begins with the string WEBVTT followed by a blank line.
- In the timecodes, replace commas with decimal points.
- Comments are between subtitles, by typing NOTE (in capitals), followed by your comment; a blank line indicates the end of the comment.
- Italic, bold and underlined text is indicated with HTML-style <i>, <b> and <u> tags.
4
00:00:08,600 --> 00:00:11,520
The microphone is a Rode Videomic,
And here it is converted to WebVTT, with the words “Rode Videomic” in italics:
4
00:00:08.600 --> 00:00:11.520
The microphone is a <i>Rode Videomic</i>,
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is pretty much it.
Sunday, April 28, 2013
Disappearing videos
Before I get started on this, this isn’t a rant: it’s just a description of what has happened to two of my videos, one of which I took down voluntarily, the other of which was taken down by force with a copyright infringement complaint. Other people might rant and rave about such things: I tend to think that there are more things worth ranting and raving about.
The first video to disappear was that time-lapse video some may have seen of a bus journey. The actual time-lapse footage was bracketed between short real-time segments showing general views of bus stations. In those sequences, several people were visible. One of those people approached me last week and asked me to take the video down, for reasons he didn’t specify. It was a polite request, and I complied; not because I necessarily had to (I didn’t deliberately focus on him; he just happened to be in shot) but because the video had probably already run its course and it serves no purpose to gain a reputation. In Germany, the right to one’s own image is actually enshrined in law, and although crowd scenes and people randomly walking into shot are usually legally fine, people take this right extremely seriously. There is an aversion in this country to anything that smacks of a “Big Brother” society. No problem: I can re-edit it to remove the offending shot and upload a new version, if I so wish.
The second video disappeared the very next day. It was a video of me talking about successfully monetizing videos, and if you go there now (at the time of writing this), you will see a message referring to a complaint by New Voyage Communications.
Now, this isn’t the usual run-of-the-mill Content ID match, which is an automated process over which even the claimant doesn’t have full control: this is an actual complaint of copyright infringement pursuant to the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.
Basically, New Voyage saw my video (unless they made a typo in the claim form and were actually trying to take down somebody else’s video), decided that it contained material that rightfully belongs to them and which I was using without their authorisation, and notified YouTube. This in turn means that YouTube is obliged to disable access to my video until the dispute is resolved. It’s important to note that YouTube is not at fault here: this is a legal dispute between me and New Voyage, and YouTube is merely fulfilling its legal obligations in order to avoid being held responsible for users’ infringing activities.
Quite why New Voyage thought my video contained their intellectual property I have no idea. The work they say I infringed is their documentary Tesla, Master of Lightning, which I hadn’t even heard about when I made my video. My best guess is that it’s my intro with the lightning bolts, with appropriate sound effect. (I haven’t seen the documentary, so I don’t know if that’s a possibility, but it sound plausible.)
One of the things this has taught me is that if you ever do receive a DMCA takedown notification, you cannot fail to notice. You get an e-mail for a start (in fact, I received two, one in English and one in German, for some insane reason); when you next visit YouTube you are confronted with a page full of a text, explaining what has happened.
At this point, I would urge anyone in this situation to actually read the text. All too often, the YouTube Help Forums are full of people saying they have received what they call a “copyright strike”, but it quickly becomes clear that they have no idea whether it’s a DMCA takedown or a Content ID match, and that they simply didn’t read the notification before dismissing it. Very often, they ask questions that are actually answered in the notifications they didn’t read, which is really frustrating. One user even copy-pasted the notification, complete with the “Click here to learn more” link, into the forum and asked what it meant and what he was supposed to do.
With this notice, there is an “I acknowledge” button, which you must click on before you can proceed. There is actually a problem here, because this “I acknowledge” button is not the same as the “I acknowledge” button on a Content ID match notice.
On a Content ID match, “I acknowledge” means that you acknowledge that the match is correct and you do not dispute it. They key thing here is that not clicking on that button does not prevent you from continuing and using YouTube. But if you do click on it, you can’t then dispute the match using the form provided by YouTube (although there is nothing stopping you from contacting the claimant directly, as they can release their claim any time they want).
If you are unable to do anything at all except click on “I acknowledge”, then this is a DMCA takedown, and “I acknowledge” simply means “I have read this text and understand that somebody is accusing me of copyright infringement.” There is no problem clicking on that.
You are then taken to Copyright School. If you are sent to Copyright School, even if you believe you did nothing wrong, I strongly urge you to watch the video: as infantile and annoying as it is, it does explain what the legal situation is, in very simple terms. In reality, it’s a lot more complicated, but the video does bust several quite dangerous myths and misconceptions. You then have to answer a series of true/false questions: take time to read the questions properly, and remember them. When you’ve done that, the correct answers are given with a short explanation of each: again, read this stuff, as the Help Forums are full of people who plainly haven’t read it and don’t understand why they’re being penalised.
When that’s done, you can access your account, where you will find you have a copyright strike, and you may also have lost some of your privileges. The video can still be found in your Video Manager, but it will be listed as having been removed. Many people make the mistake at this point of deleting the video, thinking this will remove the copyright strike: again, had they read the information they were given, they would know that this is not the case. A copyright strike may expire of its own accord after at least six months; if you want it removed sooner, you will have to have the dispute resolved in your favour. This is best done by submitting a counter notice, but this can only be done if you have legitimate grounds for doing this. In the entry in your Video Manager, you just click on “Submit Counter-Notification”: this takes you first to a page of text which — and I can’t stress this highly enough — you must read. It is very important that you do so: everyone concerned will assume you have actually done so, so if you do something wrong at this point, it’s your fault.
The counter notification form asks for private contact details, which you are required to give by law. This includes your home address and telephone number. If this worries you, you can have a lawyer submit a counter notification on your behalf, but those fields must be completed honestly and accurately. If you give very obviously false details, your counter notification may be rejected.
There is a field where you must tell YouTube why you are filing a counter notice, and a second field where you may tell the claimant why you are countering. You have a maximum of 200 characters in each field, so make it brief and to the point. Do not threaten or beg: just neutrally state your reasons. “No portion of the word allegedly infringed was used in my video” is a good reason (if it is true, obviously), and you don’t need to say any more than that.
Some people worry that if they abuse this form, they can be sued or prosecuted. Technically, this is true; but for that to happen, you’d have to be abusing the system on an industrial scale. In fact, I have never heard of this ever happening. That said, if you are not certain whether you can legitimate file a counter, you should really ask a legal expert before doing this.
What happens next is that once the claimant receives your counter, they have at least ten working days to respond. They can, if they wish, withdraw their complaint. If YouTube hears nothing at all, YouTube is at liberty (but is not legally required) to restore your video. This usually takes longer than the minimum ten working days.
If the claimant insists on their claim, they must go to court and obtain an order restraining you from your (allegedly) infringing activities. If that happens, you would need to defend yourself in court if you want a chance of regaining your video.
And this is where I could come unstuck, because of course I am in Germany. However, I can appoint somebody in the States to put my defence to the court.
But there is another, oft-overlooked, weapon in my arsenal: I can e-mail the claimant myself, which I plan to do in the next couple of days. Again, don’t threaten, beg or cajole: simply state your case as neutrally as you can. If possible, get somebody who knows a bit about law to at least read through your mail before you send it.
So that’s where I stand right now: counter notice submitted, polite e-mail in the works. I’ll let you know how this pans out.
Update 11 May: Ten working days after I received notification that my counter notice had been sent to the claimant, the complaint has been withdrawn, the copyright strike removed and all my privileges restored.
The first video to disappear was that time-lapse video some may have seen of a bus journey. The actual time-lapse footage was bracketed between short real-time segments showing general views of bus stations. In those sequences, several people were visible. One of those people approached me last week and asked me to take the video down, for reasons he didn’t specify. It was a polite request, and I complied; not because I necessarily had to (I didn’t deliberately focus on him; he just happened to be in shot) but because the video had probably already run its course and it serves no purpose to gain a reputation. In Germany, the right to one’s own image is actually enshrined in law, and although crowd scenes and people randomly walking into shot are usually legally fine, people take this right extremely seriously. There is an aversion in this country to anything that smacks of a “Big Brother” society. No problem: I can re-edit it to remove the offending shot and upload a new version, if I so wish.
The second video disappeared the very next day. It was a video of me talking about successfully monetizing videos, and if you go there now (at the time of writing this), you will see a message referring to a complaint by New Voyage Communications.
Now, this isn’t the usual run-of-the-mill Content ID match, which is an automated process over which even the claimant doesn’t have full control: this is an actual complaint of copyright infringement pursuant to the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.
Basically, New Voyage saw my video (unless they made a typo in the claim form and were actually trying to take down somebody else’s video), decided that it contained material that rightfully belongs to them and which I was using without their authorisation, and notified YouTube. This in turn means that YouTube is obliged to disable access to my video until the dispute is resolved. It’s important to note that YouTube is not at fault here: this is a legal dispute between me and New Voyage, and YouTube is merely fulfilling its legal obligations in order to avoid being held responsible for users’ infringing activities.
Quite why New Voyage thought my video contained their intellectual property I have no idea. The work they say I infringed is their documentary Tesla, Master of Lightning, which I hadn’t even heard about when I made my video. My best guess is that it’s my intro with the lightning bolts, with appropriate sound effect. (I haven’t seen the documentary, so I don’t know if that’s a possibility, but it sound plausible.)
One of the things this has taught me is that if you ever do receive a DMCA takedown notification, you cannot fail to notice. You get an e-mail for a start (in fact, I received two, one in English and one in German, for some insane reason); when you next visit YouTube you are confronted with a page full of a text, explaining what has happened.
At this point, I would urge anyone in this situation to actually read the text. All too often, the YouTube Help Forums are full of people saying they have received what they call a “copyright strike”, but it quickly becomes clear that they have no idea whether it’s a DMCA takedown or a Content ID match, and that they simply didn’t read the notification before dismissing it. Very often, they ask questions that are actually answered in the notifications they didn’t read, which is really frustrating. One user even copy-pasted the notification, complete with the “Click here to learn more” link, into the forum and asked what it meant and what he was supposed to do.
With this notice, there is an “I acknowledge” button, which you must click on before you can proceed. There is actually a problem here, because this “I acknowledge” button is not the same as the “I acknowledge” button on a Content ID match notice.
On a Content ID match, “I acknowledge” means that you acknowledge that the match is correct and you do not dispute it. They key thing here is that not clicking on that button does not prevent you from continuing and using YouTube. But if you do click on it, you can’t then dispute the match using the form provided by YouTube (although there is nothing stopping you from contacting the claimant directly, as they can release their claim any time they want).
If you are unable to do anything at all except click on “I acknowledge”, then this is a DMCA takedown, and “I acknowledge” simply means “I have read this text and understand that somebody is accusing me of copyright infringement.” There is no problem clicking on that.
You are then taken to Copyright School. If you are sent to Copyright School, even if you believe you did nothing wrong, I strongly urge you to watch the video: as infantile and annoying as it is, it does explain what the legal situation is, in very simple terms. In reality, it’s a lot more complicated, but the video does bust several quite dangerous myths and misconceptions. You then have to answer a series of true/false questions: take time to read the questions properly, and remember them. When you’ve done that, the correct answers are given with a short explanation of each: again, read this stuff, as the Help Forums are full of people who plainly haven’t read it and don’t understand why they’re being penalised.
When that’s done, you can access your account, where you will find you have a copyright strike, and you may also have lost some of your privileges. The video can still be found in your Video Manager, but it will be listed as having been removed. Many people make the mistake at this point of deleting the video, thinking this will remove the copyright strike: again, had they read the information they were given, they would know that this is not the case. A copyright strike may expire of its own accord after at least six months; if you want it removed sooner, you will have to have the dispute resolved in your favour. This is best done by submitting a counter notice, but this can only be done if you have legitimate grounds for doing this. In the entry in your Video Manager, you just click on “Submit Counter-Notification”: this takes you first to a page of text which — and I can’t stress this highly enough — you must read. It is very important that you do so: everyone concerned will assume you have actually done so, so if you do something wrong at this point, it’s your fault.
The counter notification form asks for private contact details, which you are required to give by law. This includes your home address and telephone number. If this worries you, you can have a lawyer submit a counter notification on your behalf, but those fields must be completed honestly and accurately. If you give very obviously false details, your counter notification may be rejected.
There is a field where you must tell YouTube why you are filing a counter notice, and a second field where you may tell the claimant why you are countering. You have a maximum of 200 characters in each field, so make it brief and to the point. Do not threaten or beg: just neutrally state your reasons. “No portion of the word allegedly infringed was used in my video” is a good reason (if it is true, obviously), and you don’t need to say any more than that.
Some people worry that if they abuse this form, they can be sued or prosecuted. Technically, this is true; but for that to happen, you’d have to be abusing the system on an industrial scale. In fact, I have never heard of this ever happening. That said, if you are not certain whether you can legitimate file a counter, you should really ask a legal expert before doing this.
What happens next is that once the claimant receives your counter, they have at least ten working days to respond. They can, if they wish, withdraw their complaint. If YouTube hears nothing at all, YouTube is at liberty (but is not legally required) to restore your video. This usually takes longer than the minimum ten working days.
If the claimant insists on their claim, they must go to court and obtain an order restraining you from your (allegedly) infringing activities. If that happens, you would need to defend yourself in court if you want a chance of regaining your video.
And this is where I could come unstuck, because of course I am in Germany. However, I can appoint somebody in the States to put my defence to the court.
But there is another, oft-overlooked, weapon in my arsenal: I can e-mail the claimant myself, which I plan to do in the next couple of days. Again, don’t threaten, beg or cajole: simply state your case as neutrally as you can. If possible, get somebody who knows a bit about law to at least read through your mail before you send it.
So that’s where I stand right now: counter notice submitted, polite e-mail in the works. I’ll let you know how this pans out.
Update 11 May: Ten working days after I received notification that my counter notice had been sent to the claimant, the complaint has been withdrawn, the copyright strike removed and all my privileges restored.
Friday, April 19, 2013
How to misinterpret a photograph
A couple of days ago, Commander Chris Hadfield, an astronaut currently on board the International Space Station, tweeted a photograph of Berlin by night, remarking on how it still shows the old east-west divide. The next day, The Telegraph picked up this image, and journalist Jeevan Vasagar (who is apparently in Berlin) waxed lyrical on this image, and came to an interesting conclusion. According to him, it “highlights the higher levels of commercial activity in the west”.
Does it?
Here’s the image as reprinted by The Telegraph:
According to the article, the bright lights in the government quarter and along West Berlin’s premier shopping boulevard the Kurfürstendamm contrast with the “softer, yellow glow in the east”. This rather implies that the intrepid journalist believes that the yellow lights are dimmer than the whiter ones, and (although this is a bit ambiguous) that all the bright white lights are either in the west, or in the government quarter.
First, the “softer, yellow glow”. It was a commenter on The Telegraph going by the name of “george” who had the simple idea of desaturating the image — taking the colour out of it. “Find the line of wall now!” he said:
So now where are most of the bright lights? Clearly, there’s not much in it at all. In the west, the bright lights are stretched out into a long thin line, while in the east they’re in a large cluster. Now let me just add a few labels (you may need to click to make it readable):
The government quarter straddles the border just north of the Brandenburg Gate and is actually relatively poorly lit, save for a particularly bright spot which I first thought must be the Reichstag, but on reflection is more likely to be the helipad on the Chancellory. Stretching eastwards from the Brandenburg Gate is East Berlin’s main street, Unter den Linden, and you can clearly see where it intersects with Friedrichstrasse. The focal point of East Berlin is Alexanderplatz, which is ablaze. Potsdamer Platz is a new development on former No Man’s Land, while the Culture Forum, just to the west, is where the Philharmonic, the Chamber Music Hall, the State Library, the Crafts Museum and the National Gallery are located.
So there it is: contrary to what one newspaper would have you believe, East Berlin is looking very bright these days.
Does it?
Here’s the image as reprinted by The Telegraph:
According to the article, the bright lights in the government quarter and along West Berlin’s premier shopping boulevard the Kurfürstendamm contrast with the “softer, yellow glow in the east”. This rather implies that the intrepid journalist believes that the yellow lights are dimmer than the whiter ones, and (although this is a bit ambiguous) that all the bright white lights are either in the west, or in the government quarter.
First, the “softer, yellow glow”. It was a commenter on The Telegraph going by the name of “george” who had the simple idea of desaturating the image — taking the colour out of it. “Find the line of wall now!” he said:
Not so easy. So now, where was the wall exactly? The article suggests all you need do is draw a line where yellow meets white, but in fact there’s a whole mass of white that is actually in former East Berlin; basically, the district of Mitte, central Berlin, where most of the tourists go. I’ve done my best to draw in where the wall went: it may not be completely accurate, but it’s good enough.
The government quarter straddles the border just north of the Brandenburg Gate and is actually relatively poorly lit, save for a particularly bright spot which I first thought must be the Reichstag, but on reflection is more likely to be the helipad on the Chancellory. Stretching eastwards from the Brandenburg Gate is East Berlin’s main street, Unter den Linden, and you can clearly see where it intersects with Friedrichstrasse. The focal point of East Berlin is Alexanderplatz, which is ablaze. Potsdamer Platz is a new development on former No Man’s Land, while the Culture Forum, just to the west, is where the Philharmonic, the Chamber Music Hall, the State Library, the Crafts Museum and the National Gallery are located.
So there it is: contrary to what one newspaper would have you believe, East Berlin is looking very bright these days.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Monks, monuments and mice
Finally, we got out and about and I have started a new season of “Destination” videos. Last year I did absolutely nothing in this regard, being far too busy with the house. This year, we started early, despite the cold weather (it’s been the longest winter for a long time).
“We”, of course, means me and my ever-loyal wife; but this time we were joined by a friend and his colleague, who had just flown in from New York. Literally, “just” flown in: his flight landed at 11 in the morning, and we met up at one. This was his idea, by the way: a trick to combat jet lag. I hope he made it to work the next morning.
So here it is:
I’m not sure I’m completely happy with the edit: it seems a bit too tight. Then again, some people might appreciate the pace. In my defence, I did have three people in tow, and I didn’t want to ask them to hang around twiddling thumbs while I carefully selected shots and such, so I didn’t have as much footage as I’d normally have had.
Incidentally, I was exposed to an unlikely occupational hazard filming in the monastery church. As I was doing so, I saw something in the corner of my eye, falling, and I distinctly heard it land. It was, in fact, a bat, which appeared to have fallen through a crack in the ceiling. Our friend carefully picked it up in his gloved hand and put it out of the way on a ledge, although it clung very tightly to his thumb.
The story of the Mouse Tower of Bingen is one of those wonderful bits of folklore that make researching history such fun. Archbishop Hatto II did really live, although I haven’t been able to find out if he was as cruel as the legend says (probably not). But according to the full version of the legend, he used the tower to extort tolls from passing ships (it was, in real life, a customs post and watchtower, so that part of the legend is not without foundation), firing on them if the refused. He amassed huge amounts of grain and, when famine came, refused to share them with the peasants. When they complained, he appeared to relent: he told them to go into a barn and he would give them grain. Instead he locked them in and set fire to the barn. As they screamed in pain and terror, he said: “Can you hear the mice squeaking?” And so it was poetic justice that he was killed by hungry mice. Here’s a 16th-century depiction of this grisly affair:
In fact, this story is what is known as a “folk etymology”: the tower was called the “Mouse Tower”, and the legend was invented to fit. In fact, it’s a corruption of a much older word meaning something like “to watch”.
And for those architects who think I got my dates horribly wrong: no, the tower as we see it today is not the original 10th-century version, but a much later replacement.
“We”, of course, means me and my ever-loyal wife; but this time we were joined by a friend and his colleague, who had just flown in from New York. Literally, “just” flown in: his flight landed at 11 in the morning, and we met up at one. This was his idea, by the way: a trick to combat jet lag. I hope he made it to work the next morning.
So here it is:
I’m not sure I’m completely happy with the edit: it seems a bit too tight. Then again, some people might appreciate the pace. In my defence, I did have three people in tow, and I didn’t want to ask them to hang around twiddling thumbs while I carefully selected shots and such, so I didn’t have as much footage as I’d normally have had.
Incidentally, I was exposed to an unlikely occupational hazard filming in the monastery church. As I was doing so, I saw something in the corner of my eye, falling, and I distinctly heard it land. It was, in fact, a bat, which appeared to have fallen through a crack in the ceiling. Our friend carefully picked it up in his gloved hand and put it out of the way on a ledge, although it clung very tightly to his thumb.
The story of the Mouse Tower of Bingen is one of those wonderful bits of folklore that make researching history such fun. Archbishop Hatto II did really live, although I haven’t been able to find out if he was as cruel as the legend says (probably not). But according to the full version of the legend, he used the tower to extort tolls from passing ships (it was, in real life, a customs post and watchtower, so that part of the legend is not without foundation), firing on them if the refused. He amassed huge amounts of grain and, when famine came, refused to share them with the peasants. When they complained, he appeared to relent: he told them to go into a barn and he would give them grain. Instead he locked them in and set fire to the barn. As they screamed in pain and terror, he said: “Can you hear the mice squeaking?” And so it was poetic justice that he was killed by hungry mice. Here’s a 16th-century depiction of this grisly affair:
.jpg/360px-Nuremberg_chronicles_-_Hatto,_Archbishop_of_Mainz_(CLXXXIIv).jpg)
In fact, this story is what is known as a “folk etymology”: the tower was called the “Mouse Tower”, and the legend was invented to fit. In fact, it’s a corruption of a much older word meaning something like “to watch”.
And for those architects who think I got my dates horribly wrong: no, the tower as we see it today is not the original 10th-century version, but a much later replacement.
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