Defending his livelihood, Neumayer started asking questions. At first, that led to his videos being reinstated. But that victory was short-lived, as the supposed Nintendo lawyer only escalated his demands, spooking the YouTuber into voluntarily removing some videos, The Verge reported, while continuing to investigate the potential troll.
Reaching out directly to Nintendo helped, but questions remain
The Verge has all the receipts, sharing emails from the fake lawyer and detailing Neumayer’s fight blow-for-blow. Neumayer ultimately found that there was a patent lawyer with a similar name working for Nintendo in Japan, although he could not tell if that was the person sending the demands and Nintendo would not confirm to The Verge if Tatsumi Masaaki exists.
Only after contacting Nintendo directly did Neumayer finally get some information he could work with to challenge the takedowns. Reportedly, Nintendo replied, telling Neumayer that the fake lawyer’s proton email address “is not a legitimate Nintendo email address and the details contained within the communication do not align with Nintendo of America Inc.’s enforcement practices.”
Nintendo promised to investigate further, as Neumayer continued to receive demands from the fake lawyer. It took about a week after Nintendo’s response for “Tatsumi” to start to stand down, writing in a stunted email to Neumayer, “I hereby retract all of my preceding claims.” But even then, the troll went down fighting, The Verge reported.
The final messages from “Tatsumi” claimed that he’d only been suspended from filing claims and threatened that other Nintendo lawyers would be re-filing them. He then sent what The Verge described as “in some ways the most legit-looking email yet,” using a publicly available web tool to spoof an official Nintendo email address while continuing to menace Neumayer.
It was that spoofed email that finally ended the façade, though, The Verge reported. Neumayer detected the spoof by checking the headers and IDing the tool used.
Although this case of copyright trolling is seemingly over, Neumayer—along with a couple other gamers trolled by “Tatsumi”—remain frustrated with YouTube, The Verge reported. After his fight with the fake Nintendo lawyer, Neumayer wants the streaming platform to update its policies and make it easier for YouTubers to defend against copyright abuse.
Back in May, when Ars reported on a YouTuber dismayed by a DMCA takedown over a washing machine chime heard on his video, a YouTube researcher and director of policy and advocacy for the Electronic Frontier Foundation, Katharine Trendacosta told Ars that YouTube’s current process discourages YouTubers from disputing copyright strikes.
“Every idiot can strike every YouTuber and there is nearly no problem to do so. It’s insane,” Neumayer said. “It has to change NOW.”
“I’m fighting with Google now,” Townsend told Ars. “I don’t expect any real answers from them.”
How YouTubers can avoid being targeted
As YouTube appears evasive, Townsend has been grateful for long-time subscribers commenting to show support, which may help get his videos amplified more by the algorithm. On YouTube, he also said that because “the outpouring of support was beyond anything” he could’ve expected, it kept him “sane” through sometimes 24-hour periods of silence without any updates on when his account would be restored.
Townsend told Ars that he rarely does sponsorships, but like many in the fighting game community, his inbox gets spammed with offers constantly, much of which he assumes are scams.
“If you are a YouTuber of any size,” Townsend explained in his YouTube video, “you are inundated with this stuff constantly,” so “my BS detector is like, okay, fake, fake, fake, fake, fake, fake, fake. But this one just, it looked real enough, like they had their own social media presence, lots of followers. Everything looked real.”
Brian_F echoed that in his video, which breaks down how the latest scam evolved from more obvious scams, tricking even skeptical YouTubers who have years of experience dodging phishing scams in their inboxes.
“The game has changed,” Brian_F said.
Townsend told Ars that sponsorships are rare in the fighting game community. YouTubers are used to carefully scanning supposed offers to weed out the real ones from the fakes. But Brian_F’s video pointed out that scammers copy/paste legitimate offer letters, so it’s already hard to distinguish between potential sources of income and cleverly masked phishing attacks using sponsorships as lures.
Part of the vetting process includes verifying links without clicking through and verifying identities of people submitting supposed offers. But if YouTubers are provided with legitimate links early on, receiving offers from brands they really like, and see that contacts match detailed LinkedIn profiles of authentic employees who market the brand, it’s much harder to detect a fake sponsorship offer without as many obvious red flags.
One year ago, I didn’t know how to bake bread. I just knew how to follow a recipe.
If everything went perfectly, I could turn out something plain but palatable. But should anything change—temperature, timing, flour, Mercury being in Scorpio—I’d turn out a partly poofy pancake. I presented my partly poofy pancakes to people, and they were polite, but those platters were not particularly palatable.
During a group vacation last year, a friend made fresh sourdough loaves every day, and we devoured it. He gladly shared his knowledge, his starter, and his go-to recipe. I took it home, tried it out, and made a naturally leavened, artisanal pancake.
I took my confusion to YouTube, where I found Hendrik Kleinwächter’s “The Bread Code” channel and his video promising a course on “Your First Sourdough Bread.” I watched and learned a lot, but I couldn’t quite translate 30 minutes of intensive couch time to hours of mixing, raising, slicing, and baking. Pancakes, part three.
It felt like there had to be more to this. And there was—a whole GitHub repository more.
The Bread Code gave Kleinwächter a gratifying second career, and it’s given me bread I’m eager to serve people. This week alone, I’m making sourdough Parker House rolls, a rosemary olive loaf for Friendsgiving, and then a za’atar flatbread and standard wheat loaf for actual Thanksgiving. And each of us has learned more about perhaps the most important aspect of coding, bread, teaching, and lots of other things: patience.
Hendrik Kleinwächter on his Bread Code channel, explaining his book.
Resources, not recipes
The Bread Code is centered around a book, The Sourdough Framework. It’s an open source codebase that self-compiles into new LaTeX book editions and is free to read online. It has one real bread loaf recipe, if you can call a 68-page middle-section journey a recipe. It has 17 flowcharts, 15 tables, and dozens of timelines, process illustrations, and photos of sourdough going both well and terribly. Like any cookbook, there’s a bit about Kleinwächter’s history with this food, and some sourdough bread history. Then the reader is dropped straight into “How Sourdough Works,” which is in no way a summary.
“To understand the many enzymatic reactions that take place when flour and water are mixed, we must first understand seeds and their role in the lifecycle of wheat and other grains,” Kleinwächter writes. From there, we follow a seed through hibernation, germination, photosynthesis, and, through humans’ grinding of these seeds, exposure to amylase and protease enzymes.
I had arrived at this book with these specific loaf problems to address. But first, it asks me to consider, “What is wheat?” This sparked vivid memories of Computer Science 114, in which a professor, asked to troubleshoot misbehaving code, would instead tell students to “Think like a compiler,” or “Consider the recursive way to do it.”
And yet, “What is wheat” did help. Having a sense of what was happening inside my starter, and my dough (which is really just a big, slow starter), helped me diagnose what was going right or wrong with my breads. Extra-sticky dough and tightly arrayed holes in the bread meant I had let the bacteria win out over the yeast. I learned when to be rough with the dough to form gluten and when to gently guide it into shape to preserve its gas-filled form.
I could eat a slice of each loaf and get a sense of how things had gone. The inputs, outputs, and errors could be ascertained and analyzed more easily than in my prior stance, which was, roughly, “This starter is cursed and so am I.” Using hydration percentages, measurements relative to protein content, a few tests, and troubleshooting steps, I could move closer to fresh, delicious bread. Framework: accomplished.
I have found myself very grateful lately that Kleinwächter did not find success with 30-minute YouTube tutorials. Strangely, so has he.
Sometimes weird scoring looks pretty neat. Kevin Purdy
The slow bread of childhood dreams
“I have had some successful startups; I have also had disastrous startups,” Kleinwächter said in an interview. “I have made some money, then I’ve been poor again. I’ve done so many things.”
Most of those things involve software. Kleinwächter is a German full-stack engineer, and he has founded firms and worked at companies related to blogging, e-commerce, food ordering, travel, and health. He tried to escape the boom-bust startup cycle by starting his own digital agency before one of his products was acquired by hotel booking firm Trivago. After that, he needed a break—and he could afford to take one.
“I went to Naples, worked there in a pizzeria for a week, and just figured out, ‘What do I want to do with my life?’ And I found my passion. My passion is to teach people how to make amazing bread and pizza at home,” Kleinwächter said.
Kleinwächter’s formative bread experiences—weekend loaves baked by his mother, awe-inspiring pizza from Italian ski towns, discovering all the extra ingredients in a supermarket’s version of the dark Schwarzbrot—made him want to bake his own. Like me, he started with recipes, and he wasted a lot of time and flour turning out stuff that produced both failures and a drive for knowledge. He dug in, learned as much as he could, and once he had his head around the how and why, he worked on a way to guide others along the path.
Bugs and syntax errors in baking
When using recipes, there’s a strong, societally reinforced idea that there is one best, tested, and timed way to arrive at a finished food. That’s why we have America’s Test Kitchen, The Food Lab, and all manner of blogs and videos promoting food “hacks.” I should know; I wrote up a whole bunch of them as a young Lifehacker writer. I’m still a fan of such things, from the standpoint of simply getting food done.
As such, the ultimate “hack” for making bread is to use commercial yeast, i.e., dried “active” or “instant” yeast. A manufacturer has done the work of selecting and isolating yeast at its prime state and preserving it for you. Get your liquids and dough to a yeast-friendly temperature and you’ve removed most of the variables; your success should be repeatable. If you just want bread, you can make the iconic no-knead bread with prepared yeast and very little intervention, and you’ll probably get bread that’s better than you can get at the grocery store.
Baking sourdough—or “naturally leavened,” or with “levain”—means a lot of intervention. You are cultivating and maintaining a small ecosystem of yeast and bacteria, unleashing them onto flour, water, and salt, and stepping in after they’ve produced enough flavor and lift—but before they eat all the stretchy gluten bonds. What that looks like depends on many things: your water, your flours, what you fed your starter, how active it was when you added it, the air in your home, and other variables. Most important is your ability to notice things over long periods of time.
When things go wrong, debugging can be tricky. I was able to personally ask Kleinwächter what was up with my bread, because I was interviewing him for this article. There were many potential answers, including:
I should recognize, first off, that I was trying to bake the hardest kind of bread: Freestanding wheat-based sourdough
You have to watch—and smell—your starter to make sure it has the right mix of yeast to bacteria before you use it
Using less starter (lower “inoculation”) would make it easier not to over-ferment
Eyeballing my dough rise in a bowl was hard; try measuring a sample in something like an aliquot tube
Winter and summer are very different dough timings, even with modern indoor climate control.
But I kept with it. I was particularly susceptible to wanting things to go quicker and demanding to see a huge rise in my dough before baking. This ironically leads to the flattest results, as the bacteria eats all the gluten bonds. When I slowed down, changed just one thing at a time, and looked deeper into my results, I got better.
The Bread Code YouTube page and the ways in which one must cater to algorithms.
Credit: The Bread Code
The Bread Code YouTube page and the ways in which one must cater to algorithms. Credit: The Bread Code
YouTube faces and TikTok sausage
Emailing and trading video responses with Kleinwächter, I got the sense that he, too, has learned to go the slow, steady route with his Bread Code project.
For a while, he was turning out YouTube videos, and he wanted them to work. “I’m very data-driven and very analytical. I always read the video metrics, and I try to optimize my videos,” Kleinwächter said. “Which means I have to use a clickbait title, and I have to use a clickbait-y thumbnail, plus I need to make sure that I catch people in the first 30 seconds of the video.” This, however, is “not good for us as humans because it leads to more and more extreme content.”
Kleinwächter also dabbled in TikTok, making videos in which, leaning into his German heritage, “the idea was to turn everything into a sausage.” The metrics and imperatives on TikTok were similar to those on YouTube but hyperscaled. He could put hours or days into a video, only for 1 percent of his 200,000 YouTube subscribers to see it unless he caught the algorithm wind.
The frustrations inspired him to slow down and focus on his site and his book. With his community’s help, The Bread Code has just finished its second Kickstarter-backed printing run of 2,000 copies. There’s a Discord full of bread heads eager to diagnose and correct each other’s loaves and occasional pull requests from inspired readers. Kleinwächter has seen people go from buying what he calls “Turbo bread” at the store to making their own, and that’s what keeps him going. He’s not gambling on an attention-getting hit, but he’s in better control of how his knowledge and message get out.
“I think homemade bread is something that’s super, super undervalued, and I see a lot of benefits to making it yourself,” Kleinwächter said. “Good bread just contains flour, water, and salt—nothing else.”
A test loaf of rosemary olive sourdough bread. An uneven amount of olive bits ended up on the top and bottom, because there is always more to learn.
Credit: Kevin Purdy
A test loaf of rosemary olive sourdough bread. An uneven amount of olive bits ended up on the top and bottom, because there is always more to learn. Credit: Kevin Purdy
You gotta keep doing it—that’s the hard part
I can’t say it has been entirely smooth sailing ever since I self-certified with The Bread Code framework. I know what level of fermentation I’m aiming for, but I sometimes get home from an outing later than planned, arriving at dough that’s trying to escape its bucket. My starter can be very temperamental when my house gets dry and chilly in the winter. And my dough slicing (scoring), being the very last step before baking, can be rushed, resulting in some loaves with weird “ears,” not quite ready for the bakery window.
But that’s all part of it. Your sourdough starter is a collection of organisms that are best suited to what you’ve fed them, developed over time, shaped by their environment. There are some modern hacks that can help make good bread, like using a pH meter. But the big hack is just doing it, learning from it, and getting better at figuring out what’s going on. I’m thankful that folks like Kleinwächter are out there encouraging folks like me to slow down, hack less, and learn more.
“The public interest in the preservation of intellectual property rights weighs heavily against the injunction sought here, which would force Apple to distribute an app over the repeated and consistent objections of non-parties who allege their rights are infringed by the app,” Apple argued.
Unlike other free apps that continually play ads, Musi only serves ads when the app is initially opened, then allows uninterrupted listening. One Musi user also noted that Musi allows for an unlimited number of videos in a playlist, where YouTube caps playlists at 5,000 videos.
“Musi is the only playback system I have to play all 9k of my videos/songs in the same library,” the Musi fan said. “I honestly don’t just use Musi just cause it’s free. It has features no other app has, especially if you like to watch music videos while you listen to music.”
“Spotify isn’t cutting it,” one Reddit user whined.
“I hate Spotify,” another user agreed.
“I think of Musi every other day,” a third user who apparently lost the app after purchasing a new phone said. “Since I got my new iPhone, I have to settle for other music apps just to get by (not enough, of course) to listen to music in my car driving. I will be patiently waiting once Musi is available to redownload.”
Some Musi fans who still have access gloat in the threads, while others warn the litigation could soon doom the app for everyone.
Musi continues to perhaps optimistically tell users that the app is coming back, reassuring anyone whose app was accidentally offloaded that their libraries remain linked through iCloud and will be restored if it does.
Some users buy into Musi’s promises, while others seem skeptical that Musi can take on Apple. To many users still clinging to their Musi app, updating their phones has become too risky until the litigation resolves.
“Please,” one Musi fan begged. “Musi come back!!!”
Russia has fined Google an amount that no entity on the planet could pay in hopes of getting YouTube to lift bans on Russian channels, including pro-Kremlin and state-run news outlets.
The BBC wrote that a Russian court fined Google two undecillion rubles, which in dollar terms is $20,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000. The amount “is far greater than the world’s total GDP, which is estimated by the International Monetary Fund to be $110 trillion.”
The fine is apparently that large because it was issued several years ago and has been repeatedly doubling. An RBC news report this week provided details on the court case from an anonymous source.
The Moscow Times writes, “According to RBC’s sources, Google began accumulating daily penalties of 100,000 rubles in 2020 after the pro-government media outlets Tsargrad and RIA FAN won lawsuits against the company for blocking their YouTube channels. Those daily penalties have doubled each week, leading to the current overall fine of around 2 undecillion rubles.”
The Moscow Times is an independent news organization that moved its operations to Amsterdam in 2022 in response to a Russian news censorship law. The news outlet said that 17 Russian TV channels filed legal claims against Google, including the state-run Channel One, the military-affiliated Zvezda broadcaster, and a company representing RT Editor-in-Chief Margarita Simonyan.
Kremlin rep: “I cannot even say this number”
Since Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022, Google has “blocked more than 1,000 YouTube channels, including state-sponsored news, and over 5.5 million videos,” Reuters wrote.
Popular music app says YouTube never justified its App Store takedown request.
Musi, a free music-streaming app only available on iPhone, sued Apple last week, arguing that Apple breached Musi’s developer agreement by abruptly removing the app from its App Store for no good reason.
According to Musi, Apple decided to remove Musi from the App Store based on allegedly “unsubstantiated” claims from YouTube that Musi was infringing on YouTube’s intellectual property. The removal came, Musi alleged, based on a five-word complaint from YouTube that simply said Musi was “violating YouTube terms of service”—without ever explaining how. And YouTube also lied to Apple, Musi’s complaint said, by claiming that Musi neglected to respond to YouTube’s efforts to settle the dispute outside the App Store when Musi allegedly showed evidence that the opposite was true.
For years, Musi users have wondered if the service was legal, Wired reported in a May deep dive into the controversial app. Musi launched in 2016, providing a free, stripped-down service like Spotify by displaying YouTube and other publicly available content while running Musi’s own ads.
Musi’s curious ad model has led some users to question if artists were being paid for Musi streams. Reassuring 66 million users who downloaded the app before its removal from the App Store, Musi has long maintained that artists get paid for Musi streams and that the app is committed to complying with YouTube’s terms of service, Wired reported.
In its complaint, Musi fully admits that its app’s streams come from “publicly available content on YouTube’s website.” But rather than relying on YouTube’s Application Programming Interface (API) to make the content available to Musi users—which potentially could violate YouTube’s terms of service—Musi claims that it designed its own “augmentative interface.” That interface, Musi said, does not “store, process, or transmit YouTube videos” and instead “plays or displays content based on the user’s own interactions with YouTube and enhances the user experience via Musi’s proprietary technology.”
YouTube is apparently not buying Musi’s explanations that its service doesn’t violate YouTube’s terms. But Musi claimed that it has been “engaged in sporadic dialog” with YouTube “since at least 2015,” allegedly always responding to YouTube’s questions by either adjusting how the Musi app works or providing “details about how the Musi app works” and reiterating “why it is fully compliant with YouTube’s Terms of Service.”
How might Musi have violated YouTube’s TOS?
In 2021, Musi claimed to have engaged directly with YouTube’s outside counsel in hopes of settling this matter.
At that point, YouTube’s counsel allegedly “claimed that the Musi app violated YouTube’s Terms of Service” in three ways. First, Musi was accused of accessing and using YouTube’s non-public interfaces. Next, the Musi app was allegedly a commercial use of YouTube’s service, and third, relatedly, “the Musi app violated YouTube’s prohibition on the sale of advertising ‘on any page of any website or application that only contains Content from the Service or where Content from the Service is the primary basis for such sales.'”
Musi supposedly immediately “addressed these concerns” by reassuring YouTube that the Musi app never accesses its non-public interfaces and “merely allows users to access YouTube’s publicly available website through a functional interface and, thus, does not use YouTube in a commercial way.” Further, Musi told YouTube in 2021 that the app “does not sell advertising on any page that only contains content from YouTube or where such content is the primary basis for such sales.”
Apple suddenly becomes mediator
YouTube clearly was not persuaded by Musi’s reassurances but dropped its complaints until 2023. That’s when YouTube once again complained directly to Musi, only to allegedly stop responding to Musi entirely and instead raise its complaint through the App Store in August 2024.
That pivot put Apple in the middle of the dispute, and Musi alleged that Apple improperly sided with YouTube.
Once Apple got involved, Apple allegedly directed Musi to resolve the dispute with YouTube or else risk removal from the App Store. Musi claimed that it showed evidence of repeatedly reaching out to YouTube and receiving no response. Yet when YouTube told Apple that Musi was the one that went silent, Apple accepted YouTube’s claim and promptly removed Musi from the App Store.
“Apple’s decision to abruptly and arbitrarily remove the Musi app from the App Store without any indication whatsoever from the Complainant as to how Musi’s app infringed Complainant’s intellectual property or violated its Terms of Service,” Musi’s complaint alleged, “was unreasonable, lacked good cause, and violated Apple’s Development Agreement’s terms.”
Those terms state that removal is only on the table if Apple “reasonably believes” an app infringes on another’s intellectual property rights, and Musi argued Apple had no basis to “reasonably” believe YouTube’s claims.
Musi users heartbroken by App Store removal
This is perhaps the grandest stand that Musi has made yet to defend its app against claims that its service isn’t legal. According to Wired, one of Musi’s earliest investors backed out of the project, expressing fears that the app could be sued. But Musi has survived without legal challenge for years, even beating out some of Spotify’s top rivals while thriving in this seemingly gray territory that it’s now trying to make more black and white.
Musi says it’s suing to defend its reputation, which it says has been greatly harmed by the app’s removal.
Musi is hoping a jury will agree that Apple breached its developer agreement and the covenant of good faith and fair dealing by removing Musi from the App Store. The music-streaming app has asked for a permanent injunction immediately reinstating Musi in the App Store and stopping Apple from responding to third-party complaints by removing apps without any evidence of infringement.
An injunction is urgently needed, Musi claimed, since the app only exists in Apple’s App Store, and Musi and its users face “irreparable damage” if the app is not restored. Additionally, Musi is seeking damages to be determined at trial to make up for “lost profits and other consequential damages.”
“The Musi app did not and does not infringe any intellectual property rights held by Complainant, and a reasonable inquiry into the matter would have led Apple to conclude the same,” Musi’s complaint said.
On Reddit, Musi has continued to support users reporting issues with the app since its removal from the App Store. One longtime user lamented, “my heart is broken,” after buying a new iPhone and losing access to the app.
It’s unclear if YouTube intends to take Musi down forever with this tactic. In May, Wired noted that Musi isn’t the only music-streaming app taking advantage of publicly available content, predicting that if “Musi were to shut down, a bevy of replacements would likely sprout up.” Meanwhile, some users on Reddit reported that fake Musi apps keep popping up in its absence.
For Musi, getting back online is as much about retaining old users as it is about attracting new downloads. In its complaint, Musi said that “Apple’s decision has caused immediate and ongoing financial and reputational harm to Musi.” On Reddit, one Musi user asked what many fans are likely wondering: “Will Musi ever come back,” or is it time to “just move to a different app”?
Ars could not immediately reach Musi’s lawyers, Apple, or YouTube for comment.
Ashley is a senior policy reporter for Ars Technica, dedicated to tracking social impacts of emerging policies and new technologies. She is a Chicago-based journalist with 20 years of experience.
As a message highlighted above the thread warned YouTube users that there were “longer than normal wait times” for support requests, YouTube continually asked for “patience” and turned off the comments.
“We are very sorry for this error on our part,” YouTube said.
Unable to leave comments, thousands of users mashed a button on the support thread, confirming that they had “the same question.” On Friday morning, 8,000 users had signaled despair, and as of this writing, the number had notched up to nearly 11,000.
YouTube has not confirmed how many users were removed, so that’s likely the best estimate we have for how many users were affected.
On Friday afternoon, YouTube did update the thread, confirming that “all channels incorrectly removed for Spam & Deceptive Practices have been fully reinstated!”
While YouTube claims that all channels are back online, not all the videos mistakenly removed were reinstated, YouTube said. Although most of the users impacted were reportedly non-creators, and therefore their livelihoods were likely not disrupted by the bug, at least one commenter complained, “my two most-viewed videos got deleted,” suggesting some account holders may highly value the videos still missing on their accounts.
“We’re working on reinstating the last few videos, thanks for bearing with us!” YouTube’s update said. “We know this was a frustrating experience, really appreciate your patience while we sort this out.”
It’s unclear if paid subscribers will be reimbursed for lost access to content.
YouTube did not respond to Ars’ request to comment.
“Almost any digitally altered content, when left up to an arbitrary individual on the Internet, could be considered harmful,” Mendez said, even something seemingly benign like AI-generated estimates of voter turnouts shared online.
Additionally, the Supreme Court has held that “even deliberate lies (said with ‘actual malice’) about the government are constitutionally protected” because the right to criticize the government is at the heart of the First Amendment.
“These same principles safeguarding the people’s right to criticize government and government officials apply even in the new technological age when media may be digitally altered: civil penalties for criticisms on the government like those sanctioned by AB 2839 have no place in our system of governance,” Mendez said.
According to Mendez, X posts like Kohls’ parody videos are the “political cartoons of today” and California’s attempt to “bulldoze over the longstanding tradition of critique, parody, and satire protected by the First Amendment” is not justified by even “a well-founded fear of a digitally manipulated media landscape.” If officials find deepfakes are harmful to election prospects, there is already recourse through privacy torts, copyright infringement, or defamation laws, Mendez suggested.
Kosseff told Ars that there could be more narrow ways that government officials looking to protect election integrity could regulate deepfakes online. The Supreme Court has suggested that deepfakes spreading disinformation on the mechanics of voting could possibly be regulated, Kosseff said.
Mendez got it “exactly right” by concluding that the best remedy for election-related deepfakes is more speech, Kosseff said. As Mendez described it, a vague law like AB 2839 seemed to only “uphold the State’s attempt to suffocate” speech.
Parody is vital to democratic debate, judge says
The only part of AB 2839 that survives strict scrutiny, Mendez noted, is a section describing audio disclosures in a “clearly spoken manner and in a pitch that can be easily heard by the average listener, at the beginning of the audio, at the end of the audio, and, if the audio is greater than two minutes in length, interspersed within the audio at intervals of not greater than two minutes each.”
Google announced Monday that it’s shutting down all AdSense accounts in Russia due to “ongoing developments in Russia.”
This effectively ends Russian content creators’ ability to monetize their posts, including YouTube videos. The change impacts accounts monetizing content through AdSense, AdMob, and Ad Manager, the support page said.
While Google has declined requests to provide details on what prompted the change, it’s the latest escalation of Google’s ongoing battle with Russian officials working to control the narrative on Russia’s war with Ukraine.
In February 2022, Google paused monetization of all state-funded media in Russia, then temporarily paused all ads in the country the very next month. That March, Google paused the creation of new Russia-based AdSense accounts and blocked ads globally that originated from Russia. In March 2022, Google also paused monetization of any content exploiting, condoning, or dismissing Russia’s war with Ukraine. Seemingly as retaliation, Russia seized Google’s bank account, causing Google Russia to shut down in May 2022.
Since then, Google has “blocked more than 1,000 YouTube channels, including state-sponsored news, and over 5.5 million videos,” Reuters reported.
For Russian creators who have still found ways to monetize their content amid the chaos, Google’s decision to abruptly shut down AdSense accounts comes as “a serious blow to their income,” Bleeping Computer reported. Russia is second only to the US in terms of YouTube web traffic, Similarweb data shows, making it likely that Russia-based YouTubers earned “significant” revenues that will now be suddenly lost, Bleeping Computer reported.
Russia-based creators—including YouTubers, as well as bloggers and website owners—will receive their final payout this month, according to a message from Google to users reviewed by Reuters.
“Assuming you have no active payment holds and meet the minimum payment thresholds,” payments will be disbursed between August 21 and 26, Google’s message said.
Google’s spokesperson offered little clarification to Reuters and Bleeping Computer, saying only that “we will no longer be able to make payments to Russia-based AdSense accounts that have been able to continue monetizing traffic outside of Russia. As a result, we will be deactivating these accounts effective August 2024.”
It seems likely, though, that Russia passing a law in March—banning advertising on websites, blogs, social networks, or any other online sources published by a “foreign agent,” as Reuters reported in February—perhaps influenced Google’s update. The law also prohibited foreign agents from placing ads on sites, and under the law, foreign agents could include anti-Kremlin politicians, activists, and media. With new authority, Russia may have further retaliated against Google, potentially forcing Google to give up the last bit of monetization available to Russia-based creators increasingly censored online.
State assembly member and Putin ally Vyacheslav Volodin said that the law was needed to stop financing “scoundrels” allegedly “killing our soldiers, officers, and civilians,” Reuters reported.
One Russian YouTuber with 11.4 million subscribers, Valentin Petukhov, suggested on Telegram that Google shut down AdSense because people had managed to “bypass payment blocks imposed by Western sanctions on Russian banks,” Bleeping Computer reported.
According to Petukhov, the wording in Google’s message to users was “kind of strange,” making it unclear what account holders should do next.
“Even though the income from monetization has fallen tenfold, it hasn’t disappeared completely,” Petukhov said.
YouTube still spotty in Russia
Google’s decision to end AdSense in Russia follows reports of a mass YouTube outage that Russian Internet monitoring service Sboi.rf reported is still impacting users today.
Officials in Russia claim that YouTube has been operating at slower speeds because Google stopped updating its equipment in the region after the invasion of Ukraine, Reuters reported.
This outage and the slower speeds led “subscribers of over 135 regional communication operators in Russia” to terminate “agreements with companies due to problems with the operation of YouTube and other Google services,” the Russian tech blog Habr reported.
As Google has tried to resist pressure from Russian lawmakers to censor content that officials deem illegal, such as content supporting Ukraine or condemning Russia, YouTube had become one of the last bastions of online free speech, Reuters reported. It’s unclear how ending monetization in the region will impact access to anti-Kremlin reporting on YouTube or more broadly online in Russia. Last February, a popular journalist with 1.64 million subscribers on YouTube, Katerina Gordeeva, wrote on Telegram that “she was suspending her work due to the law,” Reuters reported.
“We will no longer be able to work as before,” Gordeeva said. “Of course, we will look for a way out.”
Human Rights Watch (HRW) continues to reveal how photos of real children casually posted online years ago are being used to train AI models powering image generators—even when platforms prohibit scraping and families use strict privacy settings.
Last month, HRW researcher Hye Jung Han found 170 photos of Brazilian kids that were linked in LAION-5B, a popular AI dataset built from Common Crawl snapshots of the public web. Now, she has released a second report, flagging 190 photos of children from all of Australia’s states and territories, including indigenous children who may be particularly vulnerable to harms.
These photos are linked in the dataset “without the knowledge or consent of the children or their families.” They span the entirety of childhood, making it possible for AI image generators to generate realistic deepfakes of real Australian children, Han’s report said. Perhaps even more concerning, the URLs in the dataset sometimes reveal identifying information about children, including their names and locations where photos were shot, making it easy to track down children whose images might not otherwise be discoverable online.
That puts children in danger of privacy and safety risks, Han said, and some parents thinking they’ve protected their kids’ privacy online may not realize that these risks exist.
From a single link to one photo that showed “two boys, ages 3 and 4, grinning from ear to ear as they hold paintbrushes in front of a colorful mural,” Han could trace “both children’s full names and ages, and the name of the preschool they attend in Perth, in Western Australia.” And perhaps most disturbingly, “information about these children does not appear to exist anywhere else on the Internet”—suggesting that families were particularly cautious in shielding these boys’ identities online.
Stricter privacy settings were used in another image that Han found linked in the dataset. The photo showed “a close-up of two boys making funny faces, captured from a video posted on YouTube of teenagers celebrating” during the week after their final exams, Han reported. Whoever posted that YouTube video adjusted privacy settings so that it would be “unlisted” and would not appear in searches.
Only someone with a link to the video was supposed to have access, but that didn’t stop Common Crawl from archiving the image, nor did YouTube policies prohibiting AI scraping or harvesting of identifying information.
Reached for comment, YouTube’s spokesperson, Jack Malon, told Ars that YouTube has “been clear that the unauthorized scraping of YouTube content is a violation of our Terms of Service, and we continue to take action against this type of abuse.” But Han worries that even if YouTube did join efforts to remove images of children from the dataset, the damage has been done, since AI tools have already trained on them. That’s why—even more than parents need tech companies to up their game blocking AI training—kids need regulators to intervene and stop training before it happens, Han’s report said.
Han’s report comes a month before Australia is expected to release a reformed draft of the country’s Privacy Act. Those reforms include a draft of Australia’s first child data protection law, known as the Children’s Online Privacy Code, but Han told Ars that even people involved in long-running discussions about reforms aren’t “actually sure how much the government is going to announce in August.”
“Children in Australia are waiting with bated breath to see if the government will adopt protections for them,” Han said, emphasizing in her report that “children should not have to live in fear that their photos might be stolen and weaponized against them.”
AI uniquely harms Australian kids
To hunt down the photos of Australian kids, Han “reviewed fewer than 0.0001 percent of the 5.85 billion images and captions contained in the data set.” Because her sample was so small, Han expects that her findings represent a significant undercount of how many children could be impacted by the AI scraping.
“It’s astonishing that out of a random sample size of about 5,000 photos, I immediately fell into 190 photos of Australian children,” Han told Ars. “You would expect that there would be more photos of cats than there are personal photos of children,” since LAION-5B is a “reflection of the entire Internet.”
LAION is working with HRW to remove links to all the images flagged, but cleaning up the dataset does not seem to be a fast process. Han told Ars that based on her most recent exchange with the German nonprofit, LAION had not yet removed links to photos of Brazilian kids that she reported a month ago.
LAION declined Ars’ request for comment.
In June, LAION’s spokesperson, Nathan Tyler, told Ars that, “as a nonprofit, volunteer organization,” LAION is committed to doing its part to help with the “larger and very concerning issue” of misuse of children’s data online. But removing links from the LAION-5B dataset does not remove the images online, Tyler noted, where they can still be referenced and used in other AI datasets, particularly those relying on Common Crawl. And Han pointed out that removing the links from the dataset doesn’t change AI models that have already trained on them.
“Current AI models cannot forget data they were trained on, even if the data was later removed from the training data set,” Han’s report said.
Kids whose images are used to train AI models are exposed to a variety of harms, Han reported, including a risk that image generators could more convincingly create harmful or explicit deepfakes. In Australia last month, “about 50 girls from Melbourne reported that photos from their social media profiles were taken and manipulated using AI to create sexually explicit deepfakes of them, which were then circulated online,” Han reported.
For First Nations children—”including those identified in captions as being from the Anangu, Arrernte, Pitjantjatjara, Pintupi, Tiwi, and Warlpiri peoples”—the inclusion of links to photos threatens unique harms. Because culturally, First Nations peoples “restrict the reproduction of photos of deceased people during periods of mourning,” Han said the AI training could perpetuate harms by making it harder to control when images are reproduced.
Once an AI model trains on the images, there are other obvious privacy risks, including a concern that AI models are “notorious for leaking private information,” Han said. Guardrails added to image generators do not always prevent these leaks, with some tools “repeatedly broken,” Han reported.
LAION recommends that, if troubled by the privacy risks, parents remove images of kids online as the most effective way to prevent abuse. But Han told Ars that’s “not just unrealistic, but frankly, outrageous.”
“The answer is not to call for children and parents to remove wonderful photos of kids online,” Han said. “The call should be [for] some sort of legal protections for these photos, so that kids don’t have to always wonder if their selfie is going to be abused.”
YouTube is in talks with record labels to license their songs for artificial intelligence tools that clone popular artists’ music, hoping to win over a skeptical industry with upfront payments.
The Google-owned video site needs labels’ content to legally train AI song generators, as it prepares to launch new tools this year, according to three people familiar with the matter.
The company has recently offered lump sums of cash to the major labels—Sony, Warner, and Universal—to try to convince more artists to allow their music to be used in training AI software, according to several people briefed on the talks.
However, many artists remain fiercely opposed to AI music generation, fearing it could undermine the value of their work. Any move by a label to force their stars into such a scheme would be hugely controversial.
“The industry is wrestling with this. Technically the companies have the copyrights, but we have to think through how to play it,” said an executive at a large music company. “We don’t want to be seen as a Luddite.”
YouTube last year began testing a generative AI tool that lets people create short music clips by entering a text prompt. The product, initially named “Dream Track,” was designed to imitate the sound and lyrics of well-known singers.
But only 10 artists agreed to participate in the test phase, including Charli XCX, Troye Sivan and John Legend, and Dream Track was made available to just a small group of creators.
YouTube wants to sign up “dozens” of artists to roll out a new AI song generator this year, said two of the people.
YouTube said: “We’re not looking to expand Dream Track but are in conversations with labels about other experiments.”
Licenses or lawsuits
YouTube is seeking new deals at a time when AI companies such as OpenAI are striking licensing agreements with media groups to train large language models, the systems that power AI products such as the ChatGPT chatbot. Some of those deals are worth tens of millions of dollars to media companies, insiders say.
The deals being negotiated in music would be different. They would not be blanket licenses but rather would apply to a select group of artists, according to people briefed on the discussions.
It would be up to the labels to encourage their artists to participate in the new projects. That means the final amounts YouTube might be willing to pay the labels are at this stage undetermined.
The deals would look more like the one-off payments from social media companies such as Meta or Snap to entertainment groups for access to their music, rather than the royalty-based arrangements labels have with Spotify or Apple, these people said.
YouTube’s new AI tool, which is unlikely to carry the Dream Track brand, could form part of YouTube’s Shorts platform, which competes with TikTok. Talks continue and deal terms could still change, the people said.
YouTube’s latest move comes as the leading record companies on Monday sued two AI start-ups, Suno and Udio, which they allege are illegally using copyrighted recordings to train their AI models. A music industry group is seeking “up to $150,000 per work infringed,” according to the filings.
After facing the threat of extinction following the rise of Napster in the 2000s, music companies are trying to get ahead of disruptive technology this time around. The labels are keen to get involved with licensed products that use AI to create songs using their music copyrights—and get paid for it.
Sony Music, which did not participate in the first phase of YouTube’s AI experiment, is in negotiations with the tech group to make available some of its music to the new tools, said a person familiar with the matter. Warner and Universal, whose artists participated in the test phase, are also in talks with YouTube about expanding the product, these people said.
In April, more than 200 musicians including Billie Eilish and the estate of Frank Sinatra signed an open letter.
“Unchecked, AI will set in motion a race to the bottom that will degrade the value of our work and prevent us from being fairly compensated for it,” the letter said.
YouTube added: “We are always testing new ideas and learning from our experiments; it’s an important part of our innovation process. We will continue on this path with AI and music as we build for the future.”
YouTube’s Content ID system—which automatically detects content registered by rightsholders—is “completely fucking broken,” a YouTuber called “Albino” declared in a rant on X (formerly Twitter) viewed more than 950,000 times.
Albino, who is also a popular Twitch streamer, complained that his YouTube video playing through Fallout was demonetized because a Samsung washing machine randomly chimed to signal a laundry cycle had finished while he was streaming.
Apparently, YouTube had automatically scanned Albino’s video and detected the washing machine chime as a song called “Done”—which Albino quickly saw was uploaded to YouTube by a musician known as Audego nine years ago.
But when Albino hit play on Audego’s song, the only thing that he heard was a 30-second clip of the washing machine chime. To Albino it was obvious that Audego didn’t have any rights to the jingle, which Dexerto reported actually comes from the song “Die Forelle” (“The Trout”) from Austrian composer Franz Schubert.
The song was composed in 1817 and is in the public domain. Samsung has used it to signal the end of a wash cycle for years, sparking debate over whether it’s the catchiest washing machine song and inspiring at least one violinist to perform a duet with her machine. It’s been a source of delight for many Samsung customers, but for Albino, hearing the jingle appropriated on YouTube only inspired ire.
“A guy recorded his fucking washing machine and uploaded it to YouTube with Content ID,” Albino said in a video on X. “And now I’m getting copyright claims” while “my money” is “going into the toilet and being given to this fucking slime.”
Albino suggested that YouTube had potentially allowed Audego to make invalid copyright claims for years without detecting the seemingly obvious abuse.
“How is this still here?” Albino asked. “It took me one Google search to figure this out,” and “now I’m sharing revenue with this? That’s insane.”
At first, Team YouTube gave Albino a boilerplate response on X, writing, “We understand how important it is for you. From your vid, it looks like you’ve recently submitted a dispute. When you dispute a Content ID claim, the person who claimed your video (the claimant) is notified and they have 30 days to respond.”
Albino expressed deep frustration at YouTube’s response, given how “egregious” he considered the copyright abuse to be.
“Just wait for the person blatantly stealing copyrighted material to respond,” Albino responded to YouTube. “Ah okay, yes, I’m sure they did this in good faith and will make the correct call, though it would be a shame if they simply clicked ‘reject dispute,’ took all the ad revenue money and forced me to risk having my channel terminated to appeal it!! XDxXDdxD!! Thanks Team YouTube!”
Soon after, YouTube confirmed on X that Audego’s copyright claim was indeed invalid. The social platform ultimately released the claim and told Albino to expect the changes to be reflected on his channel within two business days.
Ars could not immediately reach YouTube or Albino for comment.
Widespread abuse of Content ID continues
YouTubers have complained about abuse of Content ID for years. Techdirt’s Timothy Geigner agreed with Albino’s assessment that the YouTube system is “hopelessly broken,” noting that sometimes content is flagged by mistake. But just as easily, bad actors can abuse the system to claim “content that simply isn’t theirs” and seize sometimes as much as millions in ad revenue.
In 2021, YouTube announced that it had invested “hundreds of millions of dollars” to create content management tools, of which Content ID quickly emerged as the platform’s go-to solution to detect and remove copyrighted materials.
At that time, YouTube claimed that Content ID was created as a “solution for those with the most complex rights management needs,” like movie studios and record labels whose movie clips and songs are most commonly uploaded by YouTube users. YouTube warned that without Content ID, “rightsholders could have their rights impaired and lawful expression could be inappropriately impacted.”
Since its rollout, more than 99 percent of copyright actions on YouTube have consistently been triggered automatically through Content ID.
And just as consistently, YouTube has seen widespread abuse of Content ID, terminating “tens of thousands of accounts each year that attempt to abuse our copyright tools,” YouTube said. YouTube also acknowledged in 2021 that “just one invalid reference file in Content ID can impact thousands of videos and users, stripping them of monetization or blocking them altogether.”
To help rightsholders and creators track how much copyrighted content is removed from the platform, YouTube started releasing biannual transparency reports in 2021. The Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF), a nonprofit digital rights group, applauded YouTube’s “move towards transparency” while criticizing YouTube’s “claim that YouTube is adequately protecting its creators.”
“That rings hollow,” EFF reported in 2021, noting that “huge conglomerates have consistently pushed for more and more restrictions on the use of copyrighted material, at the expense of fair use and, as a result, free expression.” As EFF saw it then, YouTube’s Content ID system mainly served to appease record labels and movie studios, while creators felt “pressured” not to dispute Content ID claims out of “fear” that their channel might be removed if YouTube consistently sided with rights holders.
According to YouTube, “it’s impossible for matching technology to take into account complex legal considerations like fair use or fair dealing,” and that impossibility seemingly ensures that creators bear the brunt of automated actions even when it’s fair to use copyrighted materials.
At that time, YouTube described Content ID as “an entirely new revenue stream from ad-supported, user generated content” for rights holders, who made more than $5.5 billion from Content ID matches by December 2020. More recently, YouTube reported that figure climbed above $9 million, as of December 2022. With so much money at play, it’s easy to see how the system could be seen as disproportionately favoring rights holders, while creators continue to suffer from income diverted by the automated system.
