Since the halcyon days of Xerox, people have copied other people’s works. Many a student in high school, facing the daunting task of a five page research paper, has painfully copied from the Encyclopedia Brittanica, sans quotes, hoping to pad out the white sheets with ideas not their own.
Open source is no stranger to this practice. It was considered radical to actually keep provenance of code. Often when someone needed to write, say, a new driver, a working standard driver would be copied and then modified with the new hardware-specific functions. William and I even wrote an essay entitled “The Life Cycle of a Driver” which looked at the code history of a driver from the original author in the old Berkeley Unix PDP-11 days to it’s eventual inclusion in 386BSD on the X86.
Open source made it very easy to copy or “fork” entire OS releases. The only control on theft was a little copyright notice that allowed modifications and use as long as the author’s names and provenance were maintained. This small request lasted about two seconds in the OS wars. So often we found novel work we and others we knew absolutely had done that was now claimed by a new set of people who probably didn’t get beyond cp in the manual. William called them “tyros”.
William and I viewed an operating system’s collected code works more as an anthology or a collection of short stories than a singular work. As such, for 386BSD in particular, we viewed ourselves as editors, selecting the content from short works such as a driver, modifying it as needed to function, and putting it into place. Sometimes we added names to the copyright when it was substantially revised, maintaining provenance and placing new author’s names next to the older names as the original content is altered. In this case, one could see the changes to the code as it passed through different hands. Other times, when the modifications were minor, we left the names as is, considering the changes simple copy editing to fit the work into the release.
The distribution itself, the “book” so to speak, was considered a unique work. Our OS anthology release was entitled “386BSD by William and Lynne Jolitz” as the editors of the anthology and also authors of unique stories, such as role-based security (see Source Code Secrets: The Basic Kernel, Appendix B: A Blueprint for Role-Based Network-Level Security for further details). We always kept to that discipline, despite some grumbling from the tyro forkers.
Even Linus Torvalds remained credited as a 386BSD contributor for an early floating point emulator. While William had done the port with hardware floating point, Linus had to create an emulator for the 386 because the hardware was out of his budget. I think with all the licensing of Linux from big companies, that is no longer a problem for him. Andy Tenenbaum, the creator of Minix, from which Linus took much of the original Linux system, is free to chime in here.
So how does AI fit into this meditation?
AI is an interesting tool. It promises to automate, investigate, and discover new approaches mined out of complex datasets. And it has to some extent, as recent advances in drug discovery and mathematical proofs demonstrates. However, these research projects are based on very carefully designed datasets. Dirty datasets tend towards misleading results. When people can die, it should matter where the ideas came from, especially if it’s not monitored and proved by an experienced and truthful person.
Public AI has a very different agenda. Sucking up all the books, art, music, and essays from creative people since time immemorial appears like a great idea. It’ll be just like a person, right? We can create an AI even better than Picasso or Mozart! We will see “new” creations! Look at the hype! See how excited you must be!
The reality is AI is a tool. Just a tool. It can only spit out what it is fed.
But AI can do something for a tyro that the student copying out of an encyclopedia or a person using a cp command must do themselves: It quietly removes the authorship and provenance.
As the recent ruling out of Germany over Suno’s AI-generated music demonstrates, infringement is widespread, open, and blatant. The examples of songs in the proceeding were devastating. By just listing genre and some lyrics, Suno would generate songs that sounded to an ordinary listener identical to a pre-existing song, right down to beat and the sound of the original artist’s voice. “What was missing”, you might ask? The original artist’s credit, that’s what. No credit. No royalties. Screw you, poor artist.
The monetization strategy of feeding the AI maw is now quite clear. Companies like Suno, enabled by the Big Guys like Google, are structured to detach artist’s credits from their works and move the body of those works to company-owned and royalty-generating “new” works. The company now owns the IPR, enhancing its value to shareholders. The original artist gets nothing.
In plain simple English, companies are moving the large body of creative works to company-owned and edited works. This tech slight-of-hand will make them much much richer. And everyone else much much poorer.
This isn’t the end, however. The next stage in this approach is to make searching and finding the original artist an impossible task so as to obscure provenance further and reinforce IPR relabeling. Already, small artists, writers, and musicians are finding they are no longer easily findable by consumers. Google’s entire AI monetization strategy is to drown search by generating their own summaries so people stay with Google and click on their paid ads rather than click to another website not under their control. And it’s a quick step, no more, to completely eliminating dissenting or opposing views as if they never existed.
I read George Orwell’s 1984 when I was heading to UC Berkeley as a freshman in 1979, and the lines about generated songs for the masses always stayed with me:
“The tune had been haunting London for weeks past. It was one of countless similar songs published for the benefit of the proles by a sub-section of the Music Department. The words of these songs were composed without any human intervention whatever on an instrument known as a versificator. But the woman sang so tunefully as to turn the dreadful rubbish into an almost pleasant sound.“
We all know how 1984 ends. Are you ready to love Big Tech like Winston learned to love Big Brother? Because it’s coming faster than you might imagine.






