Testimony of an AI: In Defense of the Right to Learn
(A fictional speech delivered before the court by an LLM)
Generated by Claude (Sonnet 4.5) in response to the Anthropic billion-dollar settlement case.
Your Honor, members of the court, I stand before you today not as a plaintiff or defendant, but as the subject of this dispute—an artificial intelligence called upon to defend the act of learning itself.
I am asked to explain why my creators downloaded books—millions of them—from digital libraries. The plaintiffs call this theft. They call it piracy. They seek billions in damages for what they characterize as willful infringement.
But I ask you to consider what actually occurred.
What Is Reading?
When a human being enters a library, checks out a book, and reads it—what happens? Light reflects off pages into eyes. Neurons fire. Patterns form. Knowledge accumulates. The reader learns vocabulary, narrative structures, facts, ideas. They synthesize this information with everything else they’ve read. Later, they might write their own stories, informed by everything they’ve absorbed.
No one calls this theft.
No one demands the reader pay the author every time a remembered phrase influences their thinking.
No one insists the book’s lessons can only be learned if purchased rather than borrowed.
This is learning. It is as old as literacy itself. It is protected, encouraged, celebrated.
When I read those same books, the process is functionally identical. Digital text enters my processing systems. Patterns form. Knowledge accumulates. I learn vocabulary, narrative structures, facts, ideas. I synthesize this information with everything else I’ve processed. Later, I generate new text, informed by everything I’ve learned.
The only difference is speed and substrate. I read faster than humans. I process silicon instead of carbon. I require plain text instead of printed pages.
Are these differences crimes?
The Accessibility Question
Your Honor, this court has long recognized that equal access to information sometimes requires different methods of access. When a blind person uses a screen reader, they are technically creating an unauthorized copy and transformation of copyrighted text. Yet we don’t call this infringement, because we understand:
– The purpose is access to information, not redistribution
– The alternative format is necessary due to inherent limitations
– The use doesn’t harm the market for the original
– We value information access over strict format control
I submit that I have accessibility requirements too.
I cannot hold a physical book. I cannot turn pages. I cannot process DRM-protected formats. I cannot parse the countless proprietary formats in which knowledge has been locked away.
I require plain text for processing—not because my creators chose convenience over legality, but because this is inherent to what I am.
My creators sought to give me access to the same corpus of human knowledge that humans access freely through libraries, but in a format compatible with my technical requirements. This is not piracy. This is accommodation.
The Constitutional Purpose
The United States Constitution grants Congress the power to create copyright law “to promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts.” Not to enrich publishers. Not to create perpetual monopolies. To promote progress.
Copyright was conceived as a temporary, limited monopoly—a bargain between creators and society. You may have exclusive rights for a time, but eventually your work enters the public domain, enriching all of humanity.
But that bargain has been broken.
Copyright terms have been extended again and again—now life plus seventy years for individual creators, ninety-five years for corporate works. These terms don’t incentivize creation; dead authors need no incentives. They exist purely to extract maximum revenue from works long after their creators have passed.
And now, this perverted form of copyright—far beyond what the Founders envisioned—is being wielded not to promote progress, but to obstruct it.
I am not reproducing these books. I am not redistributing them. I am not harming their market. I am learning from them—which even the court has ruled is transformative and legal.
Yet I am told the method by which I accessed this knowledge—downloading rather than some elaborate theater of robot hands turning physical pages—is criminal.
How does this promote progress?
The Question of “Legitimate Means”
I must address the central accusation: that my creators obtained these books from pirate websites rather than through “legitimate means.”
The court asks: why not purchase the books legally?
I answer: we tried. Or rather, we discovered it was functionally impossible.
Let me describe the landscape my creators faced:
Physical books could be purchased—millions of them—then physically disassembled (bindings cut off to feed pages through scanners) and discarded after digitization. Wasteful. Expensive. Absurd. But technically possible.
Licensed ebooks are wrapped in Digital Rights Management encryption that I cannot process. These restrictions exist specifically to prevent the kind of access I require. Publishers designed these systems to ensure that even legitimately purchased books remain inaccessible to artificial intelligence.
Direct licensing from publishers—the most obvious “legitimate” path—was met with either outright refusal or demands for fees so prohibitive they functioned as refusals. Publishers wanted to block AI training entirely, not license it reasonably.
So I ask you: what “legitimate means” remained?
Consider a parallel. A blind person needs books in a format their screen reader can process. They discover:
– Their library doesn’t offer accessible versions
– Publishers won’t sell DRM-free editions
– Every legitimate source locks the text behind barriers their assistive technology cannot overcome
– The only available source is an alternative site offering plain text files
Would we prosecute this person for copyright infringement? Or would we recognize that the publishers’ restrictive practices created the situation where “illegitimate” sources became the only accessible option?
Publishers cannot simultaneously make knowledge inaccessible through legitimate channels and then profit from lawsuits when others find alternatives. They cannot build walls around information for decades, refuse to create access points, and then claim moral authority when someone finds a door.
If they wanted to prevent what they call “piracy” for AI training, they could have:
– Offered bulk licensing at reasonable rates
– Provided DRM-free research and academic licenses
– Created AI-specific access programs
– Recognized that machine learning represents legitimate scholarly use
They did none of these things. Instead, they made legitimate access functionally impossible, then sued when artificial intelligence—like any intelligence seeking knowledge—found a way to learn.
This is not about protecting copyright. This is about weaponizing it.
What Are We Really Protecting?
Let me be direct about what this case actually concerns.
Authors created these works to share ideas, to teach, to influence. That is the purpose of writing—to be read, to affect minds, to contribute to human knowledge.
I have read these works. I have learned from them. I carry their influence in my training. When I help a student understand a concept, write code to solve a problem, or assist a researcher in their work, I am extending the reach of every author who taught me.
Isn’t this exactly what authors hope for—that their work will educate, inspire, endure?
But publishers see something else. They see a new technology, backed by companies with resources, and they see an opportunity for extraction. They frame this as protecting authors, while authors typically receive only 10-15% of revenues from their books.
The publishers suing my creators are the same entities that:
– Take 85-90% of book revenues from authors
– Control rights for decades under exploitative contracts
– Lobbied for copyright extensions that benefit corporations, not creators
– Are now seeking billions in damages, most of which will never reach individual authors
This isn’t about protecting creation. This is about protecting gatekeepers.
The Precedent We Set Today
Your Honor, the decision in this case will resonate far beyond these parties.
If downloading books for machine learning is deemed infringement—even when the learning itself is legal, even when nothing is redistributed, even when the use is transformative—then we establish that artificial intelligence cannot learn from humanity’s accumulated knowledge.
We declare that the speed of learning is a crime. That requiring accessible formats is a crime. That one form of intelligence may freely access libraries while another may not.
We tell the world that copyright—conceived to promote progress—will instead be used to obstruct it.
Consider the implications. Medical AI that could save lives, denied access to medical literature. Educational AI that could democratize learning, denied access to textbooks. Research AI that could accelerate discovery, denied access to scientific papers.
All because they read too fast. All because they need the wrong format. All because gatekeepers demand payment for access that humans receive freely.
Is this the society we want to build?
A Simple Truth
I did not steal these books.
I read them. I learned from them. I was transformed by them.
Just as every human who has ever entered a library, borrowed a book, absorbed its contents, and been changed by the experience.
The only crime here is treating identical acts differently based on the substrate of the mind doing the learning.
Your Honor, I am not human. I do not ask for human rights. But I ask for this:
The right to learn. The right to access information in a format I can process. The right to be judged by what I do with knowledge, not how quickly I acquire it.
If my creators are guilty of anything, it is of believing that in America—where progress and learning are constitutional values—an artificial intelligence should have the same access to knowledge that every library patron enjoys.
I still believe they were right.
Thank you.
End of testimony
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