NEW DELHI: The Delhi High Court’s questioning of Meta over an Instagram feature capable of being misused for copyright infringement raises an issue much larger than one educator’s dispute with a social-media platform. It goes to the heart of who exercises power in Bharat’s increasingly digital public square — the citizen who creates content, or the technology company that designs the tools through which that content is consumed, altered and amplified.
The issue arose in Dr Vikas Divyakirti v. Meta Platforms Inc. & Ors., a suit filed by the well-known educator and founder of Drishti IAS seeking protection of his personality, copyright and allied rights. At today’s hearing, Divyakirti’s counsel pointed to fake profiles, manipulated portions of his lectures and deepfake videos. Some clips, the Court was told, selectively used portions of his lectures to portray him as “Hindu-phobic” and “anti-Brahmin”. His image had allegedly also been deployed in a deepfake betting advertisement.
The Court’s attention then turned towards Instagram’s “Remix” feature — which permits users to create new reels using existing public reels or videos. Justice Anup Jairam Bhambhani questioned Meta on the obvious danger: a person could take somebody else’s video, modify or incorporate it into another video and publish the resulting material from his own account. The Court orally described such technology as a potential “tool for copyright violation” and questioned the wisdom of placing powerful tools in the hands of unidentified users.
This observation deserves attention beyond the confines of intellectual-property law.
For years, global technology companies have presented themselves as neutral intermediaries. But neutrality becomes an increasingly difficult defence when the platform itself designs the architecture through which content is copied, altered, monetised and disseminated. There is a difference between merely hosting what users independently publish and actively providing technological features which make manipulation effortless and instantaneous.
The Divyakirti case demonstrates the consequences particularly starkly. A lecture can be cut from its context, repackaged and circulated to attribute an ideological position to the speaker which he says he never intended. A face can be placed into an advertisement the person never endorsed. An original creator can even find himself at the receiving end of a copyright strike engineered by somebody who copied his material in the first place.
Indeed, Divyakirti’s counsel criticised platforms for effectively “playing God” when automated copyright complaints result in the suspension of accounts before the genuine ownership dispute is properly examined. Meta responded that constant monitoring of everything appearing on its platforms would be neither feasible nor desirable. The Court itself noted the asymmetry: a false copyright complainant may obtain immediate consequences, while the person targeted by the strike must undertake a lengthy process to restore his content or account.
That is precisely why the debate cannot be reduced to censorship versus an unregulated internet.
Bharat does not need a digital ecosystem in which every communication is policed in advance. But neither should Bharat’s citizens, creators and businesses remain at the mercy of opaque algorithms and enforcement systems designed in corporate offices thousands of kilometres away.
As artificial intelligence makes imitation easier and the distinction between authentic and fabricated content thinner, Bharat’s law will increasingly have to confront a fundamental question: technological innovation for whom, and with accountability to whom?
The Delhi High Court has begun asking that question. Big Tech would do well to answer it.
