Tuesday, 27 November 2018

Judging Patents by their Rejection Use

The quest for an objective measure of patent quality continues. Scholars have attempted many, many ways to calculate such value, including citations, maintenance fee payments, number of claims, length of claims, and so forth. As each new data source has become available, more creative ways of measuring value have been developed (and old ways of measuring value have been validated/questioned).

Today, I'd like to briefly introduce a new one: the use of patents rejecting other patents. Chris Cotropia (Richmond) and David Schwartz (Northwestern) have posted a short essay on SSRN introducing their methodology.* The abstract for the cleverly named Patents Used in Patent Office Rejections as Indicators of Value is here:
The economic literature emphasizes the importance of patent citations, particularly forward citations, as an indicator of a cited patent’s value. Studies have refined which forward citations are better indicators of value, focusing on examiner citations for example. We test a metric that arguably is closer tied to private value—the substantive use of a patent by an examiner in a patent office rejection of another pending patent application. This paper assesses how patents used in 102 and 103 rejections relate to common measures of private value—specifically patent renewal, the assertion of a patent in litigation, and the number of patent claims. We examine rejection data from U.S. patent applications pending from 2008 to 2017 and then link value data to rejection citations to patents issued from 1999 to 2007. Our findings show that rejection patents are independently, positively correlated with many of the value measurements above and beyond forward citations and examiner citations.

The essay is a short, easy read, and I recommend it. They examine nearly 700,000 patents used in anticipation and obviousness rejections and find that not all patent citations are equal, and that those citations that were used in a rejection have additional ability to explain value, even when other predictors, such as forward citations and examiner citations are included in the model. The only value measure that had no statistically significant relationship to rejection patents was use in litigation (even though forward citations did). This may say something about the types of patents that are litigated or about the role of rejection patents in litigation.

That's about all I'll say about this essay. The paper is a brief introduction to the way this new data set might be used, and this blog post is a brief introduction to the paper.

*At least, I think it's theirs. If you know of an earlier article that measures this on any kind of scale, please let me know!

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Tuesday, 20 November 2018

The Role of IP in Industry Structure

I've long been a fan of Peter Lee's (UC Davis) work at the intersection of IP and organizational theory. His latest article is another in a long line of interesting takes on how IP affects and is affected by the structure and culture of its creators. The latest draft, forthcoming in Vanderbilt Law Review, is titled Retheorizing the Impact of Intellectual Property Rights on Industry Structure. The draft is on SSRN, and the abstract is here:
Technological and creative industries are critical to economic and social welfare, and the forces that shape such industries are important subjects of legal and policy examination. These industries depend on patents and copyrights, and scholars have long debated whether exclusive rights promote industry consolidation (through shoring up barriers to entry) or fragmentation (by promoting entry of new firms). Much hangs in the balance, for the structure of these IP-intensive industries can determine the amount, variety, and quality of drugs, food, software, movies, music, and books available to society. This Article retheorizes the role of patents and copyrights in shaping industry structure by examining empirical profiles of six IP-intensive industries: biopharmaceuticals; agricultural biotechnology, seeds, and agrochemicals; software; film production and distribution; music recording; and book publishing. It makes two novel arguments that illuminate the impacts of patents and copyrights on industry structure. First, it distinguishes along time, arguing that patents and copyrights promote the initial entry of new firms and early-stage viability, but that over time industry incumbents wielding substantial IP portfolios often absorb such entrants, thus reconsolidating those industries. It also distinguishes along the value chain, arguing that exclusive rights most prominently promote entry in “upstream” creative functions—from creating biologic compounds to coordinating movie production—while tending to promote concentration in downstream functions related to commercialization, such as marketing and distribution of drugs and movies. This Article provides legal and policy decision makers with a more robust understanding of how patents and copyrights promote both fragmentation and concentration, depending on context. Drawing on these insights, it proposes calibrating the acquisition of exclusive rights based on the size and market position of a rights holder.
Professor Lee surveys six industries, looking for commonalities in how they are structured, and how IP fits in with entry and consolidation. This is not an empirical paper in the sense of, say Cockburn & MacGarvie, who found that patents reduced entry into the software industry unless the entrant had patent applications. Instead, it looks at the history of entry and consolidation in the different industries as a whole, using studies like Cockburn & MacGarvie (which is discussed in some detail) as the foundational base for the theoretical view that puts all the empirical findings together.

The result is a sort of two dimensional axis (though Prof. Lee provides no chart, which wouldn't have added much). He finds that, in general, IP leads to entry early in time, but as the industry (or product area) matures, then IP leads instead to consolidation, as companies find it easier to acquire IP than create it on its own in crowded areas. He also finds, however (and I think this is a key insight in the paper), that IP leads to more entry upstream (early creation stage) and more consolidation downstream (commercialization and marketing).

This second axis is the more interesting one (there are lots of articles about development of thickets over time), but it is also the harder one to prove, and it depends a lot on your definition. For example, Professor Lee discusses video streaming services such as Netflix and Hulu but doesn't discuss whether he views them as horizontally consolidated because there are so few of them. I've always thought of IP as fragmenting video streaming, because rights holders want to monetize their IP by holding on to it. Hence, we have to pay separately to get Star Trek: Discovery on CBS streaming, Hulu has many TV shows that Netflix doesn't, and soon Disney will pull out of its exclusive deal with Netflix to create its own service. That's 5 or more services I have to sign up with if I want to get all the shows (contrast this with the story he tells about music streaming, in which the music distributors all distribute all the music, and the distributor record labels consolidate to enhance market power against the distributor streamers). Indeed, this issue is so important that the services have (as Prof. Lee points out) vertically integrated by consolidating production with distribution (Netflix and Amazon making its own shows, Comcast and NBC/Universal, and AT&T buying Warner). Professor Lee discusses this as a penchant for consolidation, but it is not clear why IP drives it. I think it is consolidation caused by upstream entry (as he would predict) by the likes of Netflix and Amazon in the creation space, because they also happen to be distributors. But then why don't the record labels become streamers? Why does this fragmentation work for video and not music? I'd be interested in hearing how Professor Lee breaks this down.

As you can probably tell, this is a thoughtful and thought-provoking paper, and I recommend it, especially to those unfamiliar with the literature on the role of IP in industry organization and entry.

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Tuesday, 13 November 2018

Measuring Alice's Effect on Patent Prosecution

It's a bit weird to write a blog post about something posted at another blog in order to bring attention to it, when that blog has many more readers than this blog. Nonetheless, I thought that the short essay Decoding Patentable Subject Matter by Colleen Chien (Santa Clara) and her student Jiun Ying Wu, in the Patently-O Law Journal was worth a mention. The article is also on SSRN, and the abstract is here:
The Supreme Court’s patentable subject matter jurisprudence from 2011 to 2014 has raised significant policy concerns within the patent community. Prominent groups within the IP community and academia, and commentators to the 2017 USPTO Patentable Subject Matter report have called for an overhaul of the Supreme Court’s “two-step test.” Based on an analysis of 4.4 million office actions mailed from 2008 through mid-July 2017 covering 2.2 million unique patent applications, this article uses a novel technology identification strategy and a differences-in-differences approach to document a spike in 101 rejections among select medical diagnostics and software/business method applications following the Alice and Mayo decisions. Within impacted classes of TC3600 (“36BM”), the 101 rejection rate grew from 25% to 81% in the month after the Alice decision, and has remained above 75% almost every month through the last month of available data (2/2017); among abandoned applications, the prevalence of 101 rejection subject matter rejections in the last office action was around 85%. Among medical diagnostic (“MedDx”) applications, the 101 rejection rate grew from 7% to 32% in the month after the Mayo decision and continued to climb to a high of 64% and to 78% among final office actions just prior to abandonment. In the month of the last available data (from early 2017), the prevalence of subject matter 101 rejections among all office actions in applications in this field was 52% and among office actions before abandonment, was 62%. However outside of impacted areas, the footprint of 101 remained small, appearing in under 15% of all office actions. A subsequent piece will consider additional data and implications for policy.
This article is the first in a series of pieces appearing in Patently-O based on insights gleaned from the release of the treasure trove of open patent data starting the USPTO from 2012.
The essay is a short, easy read, and the graphs really tell you all you need to know from a differences-in-differences point of view - there was a huge spike in medical diagnostics rejections following Mayo and software & business patent rejections following Alice. We already knew this from the Bilski Blog, but this is comprehensive. Interesting to me from a legal history/political economy standpoint is the fact that software rejections were actually trending downward after Mayo but before Alice. I've always thought that was odd. The Mayo test, much as I dislike it, easily fits with abstract ideas in the same way it fits with natural phenomena. Why courts and the PTO simply did not make that leap until Alice has always been a great mystery to me.

Another important finding is that 101 apparently hasn't destroyed any other tech areas the way it has software and diagnostics. Even so, 10% to 15% rejections in other areas is a whole lot more than there used to be. Using WIPO technical classifications shows that most areas have been touched somehow.

Another takeaway is that the data used came from Google BigQuery, which is really great to see. I blogged about this some time ago and I'm glad to see it in use.

So, this was a good essay, and the authors note it is the first in a series. In that spirit, I have some comments for future expansion:

1. The authors mention the "two-step" test many times, but provide no data about the two steps. If the data is in the office action database, I'd love to see which step is the important one. My gut says we don't see a lot of step two determinations.

2. The authors address gaming the claims to avoid certain tech classes, but discount this by showing growth in the business methods class. However, the data they use is office action rejections, which is lagged--sometimes by years. I think an interesting analysis would be office action rejections by date of patent filing, both earliest priority and by the date the particular claim was added. This would show growth or decline in those classes, as well as whether the "101 problem" is limited to older patents.

3. All of the graphs start in the post-Bilski (Fed. Cir.) world. The office actions date back to 2008. I'd like to see what happened between 2008 and 2010.

4. I have no sense of scale. The essay discusses 2000 rejections per month, and it discusses in terms of rates, but I'd like to know, for example, a) what percentage of applications are in the troubled classes? b) how many applications are in the troubled classes (and others)? c) etc.? In other words, is this devastation of a few or of many?

5. Are there any subclasses in the troubled centers that have a better survival rate? The appendix shows the high rejection classes, what about the low rejection classes (if any)?

I look forward to future work on this!


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Sunday, 11 November 2018

Recent Critiques of Post-Sale Confusion: Is Materiality the Answer?

Kal Raustiala and Christopher Sprigman are well known as the authors of the book, The Knock-Off Economy: How Imitation Sparks Innovation (2012). In their new article, Rethinking Post-Sale Confusion, Raustiala and Sprigman level a critique at "post-sale confusion" theory that supports many of their book's conclusions about the virtues of so-called knock-offs. In post-sale confusion cases, courts find infringement even when it is abundantly clear that consumers of obvious knock-offs are not confused at the time of purchase.

Raustiala and Sprigman's critique of post-sale confusion theory adds to similarly critical scholarship by others such as Jeremy Sheff and Mark McKenna, whose articles Veblen Brands and A Consumer Decision-Making Theory of Trademark Law, respectively, provide the backbone for much of the discussion in this post. Professor Sheff also has a forthcoming book chapter in the Cambridge Handbook on Comparative and International Trademark Law, where he places American post-sale confusion doctrine in perspective by comparing it to the European approach.

This post attempts to synthesize this scholarship, though cannot hope to serve as a replacement for the much more comprehensive and eloquent original work by these experts. The post also draws attention to a growing refrain by trademark scholars such as Rebecca Tushnet, Mark McKenna, and Mark Lemley: that a possible response to trademark courts' embrace of alternative theories of confusion is to institute a materiality requirement, like courts use for false advertising claims.

What Is Post-Sale Confusion?

Post-sale confusion is a theory of trademark infringement in which consumer confusion occurs not when purchasers buy the defendant's product at the point of sale, but when third parties observe the product at a later time, and wrongly believe the trademark owner is the source. The alleged harm to the trademark owner is not that the third party observers will go on to wrongly buy defendant's product. That would be point-of-sale confusion. Rather, the harm is that the third party observers will not buy plaintiff's product due to misinformation they received upon viewing the defendant's fake, such as the notion that the real item is low quality.

Post-sale confusion theory is especially relevant for so-called counterfeit goods (same mark, same product), such as the remarkably cheap Gucci-ish bags sold on the Upper West Side of Manhattan or the "Rolex" watches sold in Chinatown. Buyers know full well what they are getting. The concern is that others who see the fakes, "observers" (sometimes called "bystanders"), do not know, and will be affected in their own purchasing decisions by the misinformation. 

As Professor McKenna has explained, despite the fact that purchasers are not confused in these cases, courts "have not been content to let the copyists off the hook [.]" Rather, they have "managed to squeeze them into trademark law by focusing on observers of the goods rather than purchasers."  (McKenna, 102).  This district court's analysis, in a classic fake Rolex lawsuit, is representative of the standard understanding of post-sale confusion theory:
Individuals examining the counterfeits, believing them to be genuine Rolex watches, might find themselves unimpressed with the quality of the item and consequently be inhibited from purchasing the real time piece.
 (McKenna, 104-105) (quoting Rolex Watch U.S.A. v. Canner, 645 F. Supp. 484, 493 (S.D. Fla. 1986)).

The ultimate harm, that observers will not buy plaintiff's real Rolex watches after being "unimpressed with the quality" of the fakes, is different, and arguably lesser, than if purchasers were confused at the point-of-sale and consequently chose to buy defendant's watch instead of plaintiff's. But the harm is still legally cognizable. As Professor Sheff puts it, this traditional understanding of post-sale confusion theory is "entirely consistent with broadly accepted policy justifications for trademark enforcement." The harm is not just that observers will one day become misinformed purchasers, but also that "honest producers of quality goods may lose sales as a result[.]"  Both injuries, Sheff writes, are ones that conventional trademark law and policy seek to prevent. (Sheff, 779-780).

Sources of Law

According to the courts, post-sale confusion is actionable trademark infringement. However, post-sale confusion's statutory hook is less clear than traditional point-of-sale confusion's or even than dilution's. Whereas with dilution, Congress expressly amended the Lanham Act twice to address it (once in 1996 and once in 2006), post-sale confusion is present for the civil liability only by inference.

Section 32(a), states, with respect to registered marks, that
[a]ny person who shall, without the consent of the registrant...use in commerce any reproduction, counterfeit, copy, or colorable imitation of a registered mark in connection with the sale, offering for sale, distribution, or advertising of any goods or services on or in connection with which such use is likely to cause confusion ... [is liable to the owner of the mark.]
15 U.S.C. § 1114(1)(a)(1).

Section 43(a)(1)(A) states, with respect to unregistered marks, that
[a]ny person who, on or in connection with any goods or services, or any container for goods, uses in commerce any word, term, name, symbol, or device, or any combination thereof, or any false designation of origin, false or misleading description of fact, or false or misleading representation of fact, which... is likely to cause confusion ... as to the affiliation, connection, or association of such person with another person, or as to the origin, sponsorship, or approval of his or her goods, services, or commercial activities by another person ...[is liable to the owner of the mark.]
15 U.S.C. § 1125(a)(1)(A).

If you are looking for details as to when confusion must occur, they are not there.  Rather, we have to assume that when the Act says "likely to cause confusion," it includes confusion that occurs not at the primary point-of-sale.

Historically the statutory hook for post-sale confusion was actually clearer than it is today. As Sheff recounts in his forthcoming book chapter, under the 1905 Act, federal registrants had the right to prevent others from “reproduc[ing], counterfeit[ing], copy[ing], or colorably imitat[ing]” their registered mark on goods with “substantially the same descriptive properties” as the goods for which the mark was registered.  This meant that even though the 1905 Act limited liability to the "double identity" category of misconduct, where both the mark and the goods were identical, courts did not have to address whether there was in fact a likelihood of confusion at the point of sale.  (Sheff, book chapter draft, 4-7) (discussing 1905 Act and comparing the European approach).

Today, in contrast to the early twentieth century, the Lanham Act is not limited to infringements that meet the double-identity standard. Instead, Section 32(a) and 43(a)(1)(A) target a broader variety of conduct so long as it is "likely to cause confusion." This includes confusion regarding products sold in different markets, such as BORDEN ice cream vs. BORDEN milk, and confusion with respect to mere sponsorship or approvalwhere defendant's use of plaintiff's mark implies some form of endorsement by plaintiff, if not necessarily that plaintiff is the source. Professor McKenna, with Mark Lemley, give the excellent example of soccer fans wearing pants bearing their team's color scheme to a World Cup game, and removing their pants after being accused of misleading people into thinking the soccer team was a sponsor of their gambit.

Yet, despite targeting a wider variety of confusing conduct, modern confusion analysis is less explicit about what happens when the purchaser of a product that bears plaintiff's mark in precisely the same market (watches and watches) knows that they are purchasing a knock-off. Here, the question becomes whether, given that purchasers are fully aware of what they are getting, the Lanham Act's likelihood of confusion standard can extend to confusion of observers who have not actually (yet) purchased the product.

Professors Raustiala and Sprigman highlight the vagueness of the statutory text with respect to post-sale confusion, but nonetheless concede that the legislative history "does suggest that Congress intended to extend the Lanham Act's protections at least to those with an intent to purchase, not merely those who have purchased or are in the process of purchasing."  (Raustiala and Sprigman, 7) (emphasis added).  Professor Sheff reaches a similar conclusion about the legislative history, noting that "bystander confusion" (his term for post-sale confusion based on a false perception of poor quality) is consistent with "the Lanham Act’s stated purpose of extending infringement liability to confusion of potential purchasers." (Sheff,  777-778) (discussing a 1962 amendment that eliminated language limiting liability to conduct that confused "purchasers.") (quoting Act of Oct. 9, 1962).

McKenna, for his part, is not convinced, contending that it is illegitimate for trademark infringement law to "focus on the purchasing decisions of the plaintiff’s customers rather than the defendant’s..."  (McKenna, 132, n. 198) (discussing the text of 15 U.S.C. § 1125(a)(1)(A) (2006)).  In McKenna's view, infringement would have to result from confusion that results in erroneous purchases of defendant's products, not of plaintiff's.

I think McKenna's view is somewhat controversial given the legislative history and how courts have responded.  Irrespective of statutory ambiguities, the courts have apparently been keen to embrace post-sale confusion. All of the authors collect numerous cases in which circuit courts have held post-sale confusion to be actionable, ranging from fake Hermes handbags to fake Rolexes and other luxury watches. (Raustiala and Sprigman, 16-17; Sheff, 5772 note 18; McKenna, 102-106).

On the criminal side, it appears somewhat clearer that post-sale confusion is actionable. In his article on the Trademark Counterfeiting Act (TCA), blogged on previously here, Professor McKenna concedes that Congress had post-sale confusion in mind when it passed the TCA in 1984. McKenna argues this extension is contrary to sound policy and not precisely authorized by the text of the TCA. (McKenna, 865-866). As said previously, I think this is a controversial stance.

The Changing Nature of Post-Sale Confusion Cases: from Poor Quality to Low Status

Classically, the "confusion" that is said to taint observers in post-sale confusion cases has consisted of the false perception that the (admittedly not-confused) purchaser is in possession of a real brand name product, such as a Rolex watch or a Gucci bag, and the false perception that this product is poor quality. This false perception in turn leads observers to eschew the real thing, leading plaintiff to lose sales.  (Rausitala and Sprigman, 13).

However, Raustiala and Sprigman, along with Sheff and McKenna, demonstrate that courts have increasingly accepted a new version of the post-sale confusion theory. Rather than receiving a false perception of poor quality, observers receive a sort-of false perception of lesser exclusivity, and therefore of lesser status, associated with luxury goods. As Rausitala and Sprigman put it, when observers see a knock-off like a fake Gucci bag, they believe the true luxury item on which the knock-off is based has become more "common," and therefore less desirable.  (Rausitala and Sprigman, 18).  Sheff's prior article, Veblen Brands, and McKenna's article, A Consumer Decision-Making Theory of Trademark Law, convincingly show that courts reasoning in post-sale confusion cases has come to reflect this new notion of harm, wherein a perception of lesser exclusivity rather than poor quality drives a loss in plaintiff's profits.

All of these authors draw on prior work by Barton Beebe, who argued in his masterful article, Intellectual Property and the Sumptuary Code, that the purpose of some intellectual property regimes has been to preserve the status of luxury goods. Identifying "the emerging phenomenon in which consumers display obvious fakes of high-status luxury goods as especially recherché signs of distinction," Beebe provocatively argued that trademark law plays a role in preserving the exclusive status of luxury goods.  (Beebe, 823). "[I]if our goal were to perpetuate a system of consumption-based social distinction," he writes,
then we would offer exclusive rights in the intangible designs of distinctive goods or at least in some distinguishing characteristic of those designs (such as a word- or image-mark or other design feature) in order to prevent the unauthorized copying of them. This is, of course, what intellectual property law is already doing ...  Our national trademark systems ... quite deliberately offer exclusive rights in status symbols  ...
Beebe, 837-839) (emphasis added(.

Due to this shift in how post-sale confusion is theorized, Sheff, as well as Rausitala and Sprigman, divide the post-sale confusion cases into different categories. Sheff refers to the classic version, where the perception of poor quality drives observers decision to forego plaintiff's product, as  “bystander confusion." Sheff coins the phrase “status confusion" to refer to the alternative form of post-sale confusion, wherein loss of exclusivity and status drives observers decisions to forego purchase. (Sheff, 774) ("Status confusion is the legal theory that most often serves to justify liability against the manufacturers of knockoff luxury branded goods, even though the purchasers of those goods know full well what they are buying.").

Despite the changed terminology, however, all of these cases share in common that the point of confusion is "post-sale," rather than point-of-sale. The risk is that observers, bystanders, third-parties, etc., are the people who are confused, not purchasers. The ultimate harm in all cases is theoretically the same: that plaintiff will lose sales, whether as a result of a perception of low quality or as a result of a perception of lesser exclusivity.

There is one point on which (I hope) we can all agree: if there is no confusion at all, whether at the point-of-sale or by observers post-sale, this should not be actionable trademark infringement. At most, this is potentially actionable dilution. This court's statement in Ferrari S.P.A. Esercizio v. Roberts, as described by Professor McKenna, would seem therefore seem to be error in a trademark infringement case:
[i]f the country is populated with hundreds, if not thousands, of replicas of rare, distinct, and unique vintage cars, obviously they are no longer unique. Even if a person seeing one of these replicas driving down the road is not confused, Ferrari’s exclusive association with this design has been diluted and eroded.
(McKenna, 131) (quoting Ferrari S.P.A. Esercizio v. McBurnie944 F.2d 1235, 1245 (6th Cir. 1991) (quoting 11 U.S.P.Q.2d 1843, 1848 (S.D. Cal. 1989)) (emphasis added).

This statement, made before a federal cause of action for dilution went into effect in 1996, would presumably be error today. The case would instead be treated under the dilution framework in Section 43(c), which accepts that the viewers of the Ferrari might not be confused and instead asks whether the distinctiveness of Ferrari's mark would be impaired or its reputation tarnished. (The dissent made this point in the actual case, complaining that the majority had "misconstrue[d] the scope of protection afforded by the Lanham Act by misapplying the 'likelihood of confusion' test and reading an anti-dilution provision into the language of section 43(a)." 944 F.2d 1235, 1248 (6th Cir. 1991) (dissent).)

The more difficult case is where plaintiff is not bringing a dilution claim or conceding absence of confusion, but is instead trying to win on an exceptionally weak "post-sale confusion" case.  Accordingly, it is immensely important to determine precisely what plaintiff must prove to demonstrate post-sale confusion.  How much confusion, and how much actual harm for that matter, is required? This is precisely what Raustiala and Sprigman seek to determine in their new piece.

The Critique: What's the Harm?

Raustiala and Sprigman's take, in short, is that while post-sale confusion may be real in some cases, it probably usually is not. In many instances, they write, "post-sale confusion is either unlikely to exist or, even if it does exist among some observers of the goods at issue, it is unlikely to harm either consumers or mark owners." (Raustiala and Sprigman, 3). To use the fake Ferrari case above, no one driving down the road seeing the Ferrari replicas is confused; and even if they are confused, they do not draw any negative perceptions that would lead them to buy fewer real Ferraris.

The problem is as follows. As said, post-sale confusion focuses on observers, rather than purchasers. The alleged harm is not that these third party observers will mistakenly buy defendant's product. If that were so, then this would just be a point-of-sale confusion theory. Rather, the alleged harm is that third party bystanders will not buy plaintiff's products. But for this harm to occur, a long chain of events is necessary. (Raustiala and Sprigman, 8).

Sheff's article provides a comprehensive list of the five (5) necessary steps, copied verbatim below:
  1. The defendant sells its product—which incorporates some feature or combination of features that resembles a protectable mark of the plaintiff—to an admittedly non-confused consumer;
  2. The consumer uses the product in view of a potential purchaser of the plaintiff’s product;
  3. The potential purchaser is confused as to the source of the observed product, misidentifying it as having originated with the plaintiff;
  4. The potential purchaser, observing the defendant’s product in use, makes some negative evaluation about the qualities of the observed product, mistakenly ascribing that evaluation to the plaintiff’s products;
  5. Under this mistaken understanding of the qualities of the plaintiff’s products, the potential purchaser refrains from future purchases of the plaintiff’s products, and potentially recommends that others do likewise.
(Sheff, 779).

If steps 1-4 occur, then the third-party observer is almost in the position of the consumer in the point-of-sale situation. (e.g. observer has seen a fake Ferrari on the road and observed that it is slow and clunky).  The observer is now in the marketplace with misinformation about the qualities of the plaintiff’s product, which might lead to the harm depicted in step 5, where the observer-come-potential-purchaser "refrains from future purchases of the plaintiff’s products, and potentially recommends that others do likewise." (e.g. "I saw a Ferrari on the road the other day, and it was crap. Don't buy it!")

It might theoretically be feasible for plaintiffs to prove this series of steps by at least a preponderance of the evidence. But courts in trademark infringement cases do not ask plaintiffs to do so. Instead, they typically make only one evidentiary finding: "likelihood of confusion." Regardless of whether plaintiff's case is based on point-of-sale confusion or post-sale confusion theory, courts consider a variety of factors to determine whether there is statutory likelihood of confusion, including similarity of the marks, similarity of the products on which they appear, and whether there is any evidence of actual confusion in the marketplace, such as surveys of consumers stating they are confused in real-world situations. Courts have accepted very low findings of actual confusion as being sufficient under the law.  Quality Inns Intern., Inc. v. McDonald's Corp., 695 F. Supp. 198, 219 (D. Ct. D. Maryland 1988) ("Even the 16.3 percent is an appreciable number that cannot be dismissed.").

When the theory is point-of-sale confusion, even seemingly minimal findings  of consumer confusion can be significant. If 16% of people think defendant's product originates from plaintiff, it is not too much of a leap to infer that a mistaken purchase will happen soon if it has not already. For post-sale confusion, however, even if plaintiff shows a likelihood of confusion on all the basic criteriathe alleged harm is not necessarily present or imminent in any single case. Steps 1-5, above, still have to occur.

For instance, if Ferrari submits a survey showing that 16% of drivers who see the fake Ferraris driving on the road believe they are the real thing, this still does not demonstrate that they have gleaned any false perception about Ferrari's quality. or even about Ferrari's exclusivity and status in the car marketplace. The survey also says nothing about whether this perception would lead observers to forego buying Ferraris in future.  In fact, the result might be the opposite: observers may see the fake Ferraris and desire a real one as a result. As Raustiala and Sprigman put it, "under certain circumstances confusion can actually be beneficial. A confused observer ... may be spurred by her observation of the knockoff to buy the senior mark holder’s good."(Raustiala and Sprigman, 20). It's like free advertising.

Is "Materiality" the Answer?

To summarize, trademark infringement cases that are based on a post-sale confusion theory, from fake Rolexes to fake Ferraris, create what is ultimately a problem of proof. The linkage between the defendant's acts and legally cognizable trademark confusion, let alone actual trademark harm, is far more attenuated than in a point-of-sale confusion case.  But courts have not responded to this problem. Instead, they seem willing to find for plaintiffs in post-sale confusion cases, even with quite minimal findings of confusion.

What is the solution to this problem? Sheff recommends placing a higher burden on plaintiff's to bring evidence appropriate to their cause of action. Courts might
put the burden on the bystander confusion plaintiff to prove that its actual or potential customers are likely to be in a position to observe the defendant’s goods in use by others, and moreover that they are the type of consumers whose purchasing behaviors are likely to be influenced by such observations (as opposed to, for example, advertising, point-of-sale inspection, or third-party reviews).
(Sheff, 784).

A less extreme variation of this option, which I think is worth considering, is to withhold an injunction in post-sale confusion cases. Courts could refuse to grant an injunction until plaintiffs show proof of imminent harm. Withholding of remedies prior to proof of harm has precedent in trademark law: many circuits already use the so-called Dawn Donut rule to limit injunctive relief for cases where there is no evidence of actual harm, because plaintiff doesn't operate in defendant's geographic region yet. Even when plaintiff has a registered mark and wins at trial on likelihood of confusion, the court will decline to enjoin defendant if defendant is in a remote part of the country that plaintiff has no intent to enter. In the post-sale confusion context, courts could hold for plaintiff if there is a likelihood of confusion under the usual factors, but withhold injunctive relief unless plaintiff demonstrates that third-party observers will more likely than not see the infringing products and actually make erroneous inferences about them.

Professors Sprigman and Raustiala take a more extreme route. They argue courts should place a new burden on the trademark plaintiff "to establish a clear connection to harm" to the mark holder.  (Sprigman and Raustiala, 23). "[T]he sort of consumer confusion that should be actionable as trademark infringement is the sort that is relevant to consumers’ purchase decisions.  (Sprigman and Raustiala, 4-5) (emphasis added).

The upshot is that Sprigman and Raustiala join a growing rank of trademark scholars who want to introduce an express "materiality" requirement into trademark infringement claims.  Those arguing for a materiality requirement include, to name a few, Rebecca Tushnet, as well as Mark Lemley and McKenna, who proposed, in Irrelevant Confusion, that materiality be required with respect to trademark infringement claims that are based merely on contentions of sponsorship confusion, rather than confusion regarding source or quality assurance.  More generally, Lemley and McKenna propose in Owning Mark(et)s that there be a “trademark injury” requirement,
akin to the “antitrust injury” requirement currently used to weed out undeserving antitrust plaintiffs: to sustain an infringement claim, a plaintiff should have to demonstrate that the defendant’s conduct is likely to cause material confusion in the minds of consumers, and allegations of other types of “harm” should be insufficient.
(Lemley and McKenna, 141) (emphasis added).

Materiality means, as a general matter, that defendant's actions are likely to actually affect a reasonable consumer's purchasing behavior. Professor Tushnet's article, Running the Gamut from from A to B: Federal Trademark and False Advertising, explains how it works for false advertising claims. In that context, plaintiffs have to show, at minimum, that defendant made a false or misleading statement in a commercial advertisement; that the statement actually deceives or is likely to deceive a substantial segment of the advertisement’s audience; and that the statement relates to a subject that is material to consumers' decision to purchase the goods. (Tushnet, 1344-1345) (citing case law).

At present, materiality is not required for trademark infringement claims as opposed to in false advertising claims. This means if Rolex sells watches that it falsely contends are "water resistant", a Lanham Act 43(a)(1)(B) false advertising plaintiff would have to show consumers care about this feature or obtain a presumption due to the nature of the false statement. In contrast, an infringement plaintiff suing a seller of fake Rolexes need not show any actual impact on consumer behavior. Trademark owners just have to show defendant's use creates a likelihood of confusion under the factors discussed above. They do not have to show consumers actually care about the subject of confusion (i.e. that Rolex is the source of the watch) enough to change their behavior.

In Tushnet's view, materiality was, in a sense, always there, because "[i]nfringement was, by definition, material." (Tushnet, 1352). The materiality requirement was inherent in a trademark infringement claim when the claim was based on the argument that defendant was selling an infringing good bearing a roughly identical mark, in the same market, at a roughly similar price. "Now," she writes, "a likelihood of confusion about source, sponsorship, affiliation, or distant relationship between a plaintiff and a defendant regularly results in injunctive relief" even though there is no evidence consumers "care one whit" about defendant's representation of a connection to plaintiff. (Tushnet, 1352).

Notwithstanding Tushnet's point, requiring plaintiffs to affirmatively prove materiality in a trademark infringement lawsuit is a controversial proposal. The Lanham Act has not historically been read to expressly require materiality for trademark infringement under Sections 32(a) and 43(a)(1)(A). As Professor Tushnet notes, with some exceptions, "[o]nly occasionally do traces of materiality resurface in trademark cases." (Tushnet, 1356-1357).

If materiality were required in plaintiff's prima facie case, I think this would substantially alter case outcomes. Major trademark plaintiffs like Starbucks might win a lot fewer cases or choose not to bring them in the first place. In litigation against a pop-up coffee shop called Dumb Starbucks, for instance, Starbucks would have to show consumers are likely to purchase defendant's coffee because they think it is Starbucks, versus because they think it is a liquid substance that contains caffeine.

I also question how this would work in the post-sale confusion context, in particular. I presume the materiality requirement would be instituted in a similar way as in false advertising cases. There, the materiality prong asks whether defendant's false statement relates to a feature consumers care enough about to affect their decision to purchase the good. This requirement could be imported with relative ease into infringement analysis under a point-of-sale confusion theory. The chart below illustrates how this would work in the false advertising and point-of-sale infringement context, respectively, for a case involving a Rolex watch.

Type of Action
False Claim
Materiality
False advertising, Lanham Act § 43(a)(1)(B)
“Rolex® is water-resistant”
Do consumers care enough about whether the watch is water-resistant to affect their decision to purchase?
Trademark infringement under a point-of-sale confusion theory, Lanham Act § 32(a) or § 43(a)(1)(A)
“Rolex® is the source of this watch”
Do consumers care enough about whether the watch is a real Rolex® to change their decision to purchase?

On Sprigman and Raustiala's view, when plaintiff argues defendant's fake Rolex sales infringe on a post-sale confusion theory, plaintiff would also have to prove "materiality." But what precisely would the post-sale confusion plaintiff have to show?  That observers care enough about the Rolex brand to alter a subsequent purchase decision? That observers perceive quality problems that are significant enough to alter a subsequent purchase decision?  Would it be sufficient for plaintiff to prove that observers perceive a loss of exclusivity due to the presence of numerous knock-offs? Would plaintiff further have to show that observers accordingly might realistically choose not to buy real Rolex watches?  This seems a nearly impossible evidentiary burden. The modified chart below spells out some of these possibilities (drawing again on Sheff's steps 1-5 quoted above).

Type of Action
False Claim
Materiality
Trademark infringement under a post-sale confusion theory, Lanham Act § 32(a) or § 43(a)(1)(A)
“Rolex® is the source of this watch”
·      Do observers see others wearing the fake Rolex® watch?
·      Do observers make a wrong inference about the source?
·      Do observers recognize Rolex® as a known brand?
·      Do observers care about whether the watch is a real Rolex® enough to affect their decision to purchase a real Rolex®?
·      Do observers see differences in quality, or status, that affect their decision to purchase a real Rolex®? 

Also, why wouldn't we presume impact on consumer behavior given that the seller of the fake Rolex has made a "literally false" statement by selling watches that are falsely labeled as Rolex? This is what courts do in at least some circuits in the false advertising context. Pizza Hut, Inc. v. Papa John's Intern., Inc., 227 F. 3d 489, 497 (5th Cir. 2000) ("With respect to materiality, when the statements of fact at issue are shown to be literally false, the plaintiff need not introduce evidence on the issue of the impact the statements had on consumers.").  Importing this law into the post-sale confusion context, courts may well presume that, since defendant sold watches bearing the literally falsely statement that "Rolex® is the source of this watch," plaintiff should not have to prove actual impact on consumer behavior. Perhaps this is what courts are effectively doing already.

As a more general matter, while I see promise in the idea of importing materiality into trademark infringement claims, I remain uncertain about what exactly critics of alternative confusion theories would like to happen, beyond importing some semblance of a "materiality" requirement from the false advertising context into trademark infringement.

***

All commentary aside, I learned a tremendous amount from reading Raustiala and Sprigman's article, and all of the insightful and engaging scholarship cited. I enhanced my understanding of post-sale confusion tremendously, and highly recommend that others working in this area read these articles.


Saturday, 10 November 2018

Samantha Zyontz on CRISPR Adoption

Pierre Azoulay's recent Twitter thread on students from the MIT Sloan TIES PhD program who are currently on the market alerted me to Sam Zyontz's interesting work on the CRISPR genome editing tool. CRISPR has captivated the patent world due to the fight between the University of California and MIT's Broad Institute over key patent rights—Jake Sherkow summarized the dispute in May and reflected on the Federal Circuit's decision in September. But CRISPR is of course also interesting to innovation scholars due to the revolutionary nature of the technology itself (this is why the patent rights were worth fighting for), which has the potential to applied to a tremendous variety of applications. Using data on researchers who attempt to experiment with CRISPR and the smaller number who succeed in publishing new findings using the technology, Zyontz has produced some fascinating findings on hurdles to technological diffusion.

Zyontz's work was made possible because of the nonprofit global plasmid repository Addgene, which received the basic biological tools for CRISPR from researchers at the University of California and the Broad Institute in 2012 and 2013. Since then, researchers have had easy access to CRISPR tools for the low cost of $65 per plasmid.

For her 2016 Master's thesis, Technological Breakthroughs, Entry, and the Direction of Scientific Progress: Evidence from CRISPR/Cas9, Zyontz did not yet have information about the identities of the ordering labs, but she combined data about what kinds of plasmids were being ordered from Addgene (through 2014) with CRISPR-related publications in Elsevier's Scopus database (through 2015). Her main finding is that the increase in mammalian genetic engineering research was primarily due to new researchers attracted to the genetic engineering field rather than to increased productivity of researchers who had been working on mammalian models or a shift by researchers who had previously published on bacterial genetic engineering.

In a subsequent paper with Neil Thompson, Who Tries (and Who Succeeds) in Staying at the Forefront of Science: Evidence from the DNA-Editing Technology, CRISPR (posted in 2017), Zyontz was able to match individual labs that requested CRISPR plasmids with their subsequent publications, allowing a more direct examination of which researchers succeeded in adopting the technology (what Thompson and Zyontz call "conversion"). Overall, they find that of the 164,993 US authors who publish in genetic engineering, 1.81% ordered CRISPR tools in 2012-14, with an average success rate (subsequent CRISPR publication) of 11.30%. Interestingly, once they control for researcher quality, there is no location effect on experimenting with CRISPR—researchers in Cambridge and Berkeley were not more likely than similar researchers in other locations to order CRISPR tools. But location had a large effect on successful conversion into a publication: researchers were more successful with mammalian CRISPR use if they were located in Cambridge (where CRISPR was first successful with mammalian cells).

Zyontz's job talk paper, Running with (CRISPR) Scissors: Tool Adoption and Team Assembly, only has the abstract currently available online, though she quickly replied to my email asking about a draft. She digs deeper into these barriers to CRISPR adoption by quantifying the role of "external tool specialists" who aid in adopting and applying the technology. She takes advantage of natural differences in the difficulty of using CRISPR in the different areas. Here's how she summarized her results in an email:
In tool adoption cases, like CRISPR, where complementary know-how is needed, external tool specialists can provide that know-how across applications. External tool specialists are scientists that know CRISPR, but not necessarily the application area. But when such tool specialists are scarce and there is a rush to adopt the tool, teams have a choice of how to use external specialists. Either external specialists join teams that go after the easiest applications to get the tool to more areas faster (or just to publish more papers in general) or they join teams that go after the most complex problems where their human capital is more necessary. I find that external tool specialists contribute more to early adopter teams that provide innovations in difficult application areas, and not the low hanging fruit. In the easier applications, teams in the application area are more inclined to learn how to use CRISPR themselves for new innovations. Interestingly, this effect does not diminish right away. External tool specialists are still used for subsequent innovations in more difficult applications.
Legal scholars have discussed both barriers to accessing physical research tools and the importance of human capital in facilitating tacit knowledge transfer, but as with many issues of innovation law, there has been far too little evidence to inform these discussions. It is thus exciting to see this detailed exploration of knowledge diffusion in a particular technological field.

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Tuesday, 6 November 2018

The Uneasy Case for Ariosa Diagnostics v. Illumina

The Supreme Court's request for views from the Solicitor General in Ariosa Diagnostics v. Illumina has renewed interest in this nerdy issue of patent prior art. I appear to be in a very small minority that believes that Federal Circuit's rule on this may be right (or at least is not obviously wrong), so I thought I would discuss the issue.

Let's start with the (pre-AIA) statute. 35 U.S.C. 102(e) says that one type of prior art may be where:
the invention was described in ... a patent granted on an application for patent by another filed in the United States before the invention by the applicant for patent...
This is a pretty old rule, dating back to the Alexander Milburn case. The gist of the rule is that delays in the patent office should not deprive references of being prior art. Thus, even though the patent application is "secret" until published, we backdate the reference to the date of filing once the patent is granted (or the application published, which is covered in a subsection I do not reproduce above).

The issue in Ariosa v. Illumina is what to do with provisional patent applications. For the reference at issue, the prior art patent first relied on a provisional patent application, which is never published but becomes publicly available if a patent that relies on it is granted. Later, a regular patent application was filed and eventually issued. There is a dispute about whether the invention was even described in the provisional, but we'll assume that it was. However, the PTAB ruled (and the Fed. Cir. affirmed) that because the issued patent claims were not supported by the provisional patent disclosure, then the reference could not be backdated to the filing of the provisional patent, even if the invention was described in the final patent.

This is where the objections come in. If the patent relies on the filing date of the provisional patent (and incorporates it by reference), then surely it is described as of the provisional patent date and should be prior art. We are, after all, living in a first to invent world and it is unfair that the first inventor (in the provisional patent) should not count as prior art.

Let's start with Alexander Milburn. I love that case. I have assigned it to my students. I think it explains this statute well. But it is not controlling. It was an interpretation of the statute at that time. We have a later adopted statute that defines what is and is not prior art, and Alexander Milburn does not speak to the facts of the Ariosa dispute because there were no provisional patents at that time. This is not like, say, on sale (Section 102(b)) in Helsinn in which that statute remained unchanged and the meaning of the words remained unchanged. There were no provisional patents when Alexander Milburn was granted, and thus it has little to say; the statute was intended to deal with that (and even that has a difficult time).

As a corollary to this analysis, I want to put the rest that there is a problem with the Federal Circuit's rule because it rewards the second inventor. I would bet dollars to donuts that many people arguing this scoffed at complaints that the AIA's first to file rule was unconstitutional because it rewarded second inventors. Both arguments fail for the same reason - the patent system has a long history of allowing the second invention to issue as a patent under certain circumstances. Indeed, even the current version of 102(e) disallows many early foreign patent filings, even though such filings are clearly the first invention. Once again, we have to look at the statute.

So, let's look at the statute: "The invention is described in" - critics focus on this, saying it makes no sense to look at a patent's claims. We only care about whether the invention was described. Fair enough - I agree.

But what about the next part: "a patent granted on an application for patent by another filed in the United States before the invention." Looking at this in pieces, we see a few requirements. First, the description must be in the patent, not the provisional application. Thus, looking at what the provisional patent says should be irrelevant...for this piece.

Second, that description must be in a patent "granted on an application for patent...filed...before." This is where the action is. What does it mean for a patent to be granted on an application for patent filed? For a provisional application, means that the patent must satisfy Section 119(e). It must be filed within one year, and the final patent claim must be supported by the written description of the provisional patent. It is as simple as that - the plain words of the statute dictate the Federal Circuit's rule.

There is a policy benefit to this reading. I think that patentee's can take advantage of the jump from provisional to final patent disclosures, adding new matter while always claiming priority back to the provisional. The provisional patent is not easily obtained, and it takes work to parse out which claims are actually entitled to the earlier filing date. Enforcing the rules on prior art better incentivizes complete provisional patent disclosures.

Then why do I say this is an uneasy case? Well, did I mention that I like Alexander Milburn? The policy it states, that delay in the patent office shouldn't affect prior art can easily be applied here. So long as the description is in the provisional patent, and so long as that provisional patent is eventually publicly accessible, then the goal, even if not the strict language, of the statute is met.

Also, my reading leads to a potentially unhappy result. A party could file a provisional that supports invention A, and then a year later file a patent that claims invention A but describes invention B. The patent could then be asserted against B while relying on the earlier filing date of A, even though B was never described in the provisional as of the earlier date. Similarly, a provisional patent could describe B, and B could then be removed from the final patent application, and the patent would not be prior art because B was not described in the patent, even though B had been described in the earlier, now publicly accessible provisional application.

I don't know where I land on this - as readers of this blog know, I tend to be a textualist. Sometimes the Court has agreed with that, but sometimes (see patentable subject matter and patent venue) it does not.

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Thursday, 1 November 2018

How will the USPTO study gaps in patenting by women, minorities, and veterans under the new SUCCESS Act?

On Wednesday, President Trump signed H.R. 6758, the Study of Underrepresented Classes Chasing Engineering and Science Success Act of 2018 (SUCCESS Act). It states that the "sense of Congress" is that the United States should "close the gap in the number of patents applied for and obtained by women and minorities to harness the maximum innovative potential and continue to promote United States leadership in the global economy."

The USPTO has been charged with conducting a study that "(1) identifies publicly available data on the number of patents annually applied for and obtained by, and the benefits of increasing the number of patents applied for and obtained by women, minorities, and veterans and small businesses owned by women, minorities, and veterans; and (2) provides legislative recommendations for how to— (A) promote the participation of women, minorities, and veterans in entrepreneurship activities; and (B) increase the number of women, minorities, and veterans who apply for and obtain patents." Congress wants to receive a report on the study results within a year.

There is already great empirical work on gender and racial gaps in patenting, including the "lost Einsteins" work by Alex Bell, Raj Chetty, Xavier Jaravel, Neviana Petkova, and John Van Reenen and Colleen Chien's Inequality, Innovation, and Patents. The USPTO could expand on this work, including by adding to its excellent collection of research datasets. Accurately quantifying the net benefits of increasing patenting by certain groups will be more difficult—especially if the agency follows Jonathan Masur's suggestions for improving its economic analysis—though the second half of the study doesn't depend on getting this number right.

The second half of the study—recommending how to promote entrepreneurship and patenting by women, minorities, and veterans—will require the USPTO to master a different strand of the empirical literature. I've spent some time digging into this work for my upcoming discussion group on Innovation and Inequality, and suffice it to say that there is robust debate about why certain groups are underrepresented in science, engineering, entrepreneurship, and patenting. (Though I haven't seen anything focused on veterans.) There's also increasing academic interest in these issues. For example, at the new Cardozo-Google Project for Patent Diversity, the goal is "to increase the number of U.S. patents issued to women and minorities," mostly by matching resource-constrained inventors with pro bono patent attorneys.

The USPTO is well positioned to bring new evidence to this debate, and I hope it will take this study as an opportunity to test some proposals in rigorous ways through actual field experiments. The agency has shown a wonderful willingness to experiment with pilot programs, but it could learn far more by, for example, randomly selecting only a subset of those opting in to the pilot and comparing their outcomes to those who opted in but weren't selected. (For a review of the literature on learning through policy randomization and some potential applications in patent law, see Part II of my Patent Experimentalism.) Such experimentation could be useful even for small questions, such as whether acceleration certificates (like those used as Patents for Humanity prizes) are useful at increasing pro bono volunteer work among the patent bar.

The SUCCESS Act seems like an exciting chance for the USPTO, and potentially for academics the agency collaborates with, so I look forward to seeing how they use this opportunity.

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