ANI vs. YouTubers: Copyright, Fair Use & Digital Rights

The burgeoning landscape of Indian digital media has found itself at a critical juncture, crystallized in the ongoing and acrimonious dispute between the news agency Asian News International (ANI) and a cohort of independent YouTubers. Far more than a simple squabble over copyright, this conflict represents a collision of intellectual property law, the unchecked power of global platform policies, and the fundamental right to freedom of expression. It has laid bare the fault lines in India's legal architecture, ill-equipped to address the nuances of the digital age. This editorial argues that the dispute exposes a dangerous triad: ambiguous domestic laws, dominant platform policies that override national frameworks, and the strategic weaponization of copyright for aggressive revenue generation. ¹ Together, these forces pose an existential threat to the nascent and vital space of independent digital journalism and commentary in India, a space that is crucial for a thriving public discourse. 

This analysis will dissect the anatomy of this digital standoff, exploring the core allegations and counter-narratives that define the ideological chasm between a legacy news agency and new-age digital creators. ¹ It will then delve into the legal crucible of India's 'fair dealing' doctrine, as enshrined in Section 52 of the Copyright Act, 1957, examining how its inherent vagueness has been leveraged as a tool of coercion. ³ Further, we will scrutinize the role of YouTube as a powerful intermediary, whose global policies, rooted in American law, create a form of regulatory arbitrage that disadvantages Indian creators. ¹ Finally, by examining the precedent-setting legal battles, particularly the case of Mohak Mangal, we will chart a course forward, offering recommendations for the judiciary, legislature, and platforms to safeguard the future of media freedom in India's dynamic digital ecosystem. ⁴ 

At the heart of this controversy are stark allegations from prominent YouTubers, including Mohak Mangal, Dhruv Rathee, and Kunal Kamra, who have accused ANI of running what they term an "extortion racket." ¹ They contend that ANI strategically employs YouTube's copyright strike mechanism not to seek legitimate redress for infringement, but as a coercive tactic. The alleged modus operandi involves issuing copyright strikes that jeopardize a creator's channel, only to then offer a resolution in the form of an exorbitant annual license. ¹ The figures cited are substantial, with demands reportedly ranging from ₹40-50 lakh. ¹ Indeed, court disclosures have revealed that ANI has successfully collected up to ₹45 lakh from YouTubers through such licensing deals, lending significant weight to these claims. ² This strategy, the creators argue, is a form of "copyright trolling"—the aggressive enforcement of intellectual property rights with the primary goal of financial gain rather than the protection of creative work. ⁸ 

In its defense, ANI presents a narrative grounded in the principles of intellectual property and commercial investment. The agency positions itself as a private entity that expends considerable resources—financial, human, and logistical—on gathering and disseminating news. ¹ From this perspective, its video footage is not merely content but a proprietary asset, a "core commodity" that forms the basis of its business model. ¹ ANI frames the YouTubers' use of its clips as straightforward "piracy" and asserts that its actions are nothing more than the lawful enforcement of its copyrights, essential for protecting its property and sustaining its operations. ¹ The agency's terms and conditions explicitly state that its content is proprietary, reinforcing its stance that any unauthorized use constitutes infringement. ⁶ This defense portrays ANI as a victim of unauthorized commercial exploitation, compelled to take action to protect its livelihood. 

This fundamental disagreement reveals an ideological chasm between two distinct models of media. On one side stands ANI, a traditional news wire service whose business relies on selling access to raw information. ¹ On the other side are digital creators who argue that their work is "transformative." They maintain that by embedding short clips within a broader narrative of commentary, criticism, parody, or analysis, they are not merely rebroadcasting ANI's content but creating something new and original. ¹ They see themselves not as pirates but as commentators participating in public discourse, a function they believe is protected under the doctrine of fair dealing. This ideological conflict—content as a locked commodity versus content as a basis for transformative critique—is the central friction point, turning a commercial dispute into a battle over the very nature of media and expression in the 21st century. 

The legal bedrock of the YouTubers' defense is Section 52 of the Indian Copyright Act, 1957, which outlines the doctrine of "fair dealing." This provision permits the use of copyrighted material without the owner's permission for specific purposes, including criticism, review, and the reporting of current events. ³ However, the Act's most significant and problematic feature is its lack of clear, quantitative guidelines for what constitutes "fair." Unlike some jurisdictions that may have indicative thresholds, Indian law offers a principle-based test, leaving the determination of fairness to the subjective interpretation of courts on a case-by-case basis. ³ This legal ambiguity is the fertile ground upon which the entire dispute flourishes. 

A common misconception, often exploited in copyright claims, is that the length of the clip used is the determining factor for fairness. Legal experts, however, clarify that the test is fundamentally "qualitative, not quantitative." ³ The crucial question is not how much was taken, but how it was used and for what purpose. An illustrative analogy is the use of the iconic James Bond theme music; using even a few seconds could be deemed infringement if it aims to merely cash in on the theme's popularity, whereas a longer use in a documentary critiquing the music's cultural impact might be considered fair dealing. ³ This distinction is paramount. The YouTubers argue that their use of ANI footage is qualitatively fair because it serves as evidence or a point of reference within a larger, original work of commentary or analysis. 

The most potent argument in the creators' legal arsenal is the concept of "transformative use." This principle, central to fair use jurisprudence globally, holds that if a new work adds a new purpose, meaning, or message to the original material, it is more likely to be considered fair. The YouTubers contend that by embedding ANI clips within their videos, they are not simply replaying the news; they are deconstructing it, critiquing it, and providing new context and facts, thereby creating a fundamentally new work. ¹ Furthermore, a key aspect of the fair dealing analysis is the effect of the use upon the potential market for the original work. Here, the creators have a strong case. Their analytical videos do not serve as a market substitute for ANI's primary product—a real-time news feed subscription service for media outlets. ¹ Viewers watch Dhruv Rathee or Mohak Mangal for their unique perspective and analysis, not as a replacement for raw news footage. Therefore, their use does not demonstrably harm ANI's core market. 

This inherent ambiguity in the law, however, becomes a strategic weapon in the hands of a well-resourced litigant. The high costs and protracted nature of litigation in India create a significant power imbalance. For an independent creator, the prospect of a legal battle against a corporate entity like ANI is daunting, regardless of the merits of their fair dealing claim. The "legal void" created by the lack of clear statutory guidelines means that asserting one's right to fair dealing is not a straightforward process but a high-stakes gamble. ¹ This reality allows powerful entities to leverage the threat of litigation to extract settlements and licensing fees, effectively chilling speech and making the exercise of fair dealing rights a privilege reserved for those who can afford to defend them in court. The law's ambiguity, intended perhaps to provide judicial flexibility, has been perversely transformed into a tool for suppressing independent voices. 

Compounding the problem of legal ambiguity is the oversized role of the intermediary platform, YouTube. The platform's global copyright enforcement mechanism, particularly its "three-strike" policy, operates in a manner that is often misaligned with the specific protections offered by Indian law. ¹ This policy, rooted in the U.S. Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), allows for the swift removal of content upon a copyright holder's complaint and can lead to the termination of a channel after three unresolved strikes. ¹ This stands in stark contrast to the "safe harbour" provision available to intermediaries under Section 52(1)(c) of India's Copyright Act. This section grants a copyright holder a 21-day window to secure a court order to keep the content down after a creator files a counter-notification. In the absence of such a court order, the intermediary is expected to reinstate the content. ¹ 

YouTube's decision to apply its stricter, DMCA-style policy universally, including in India, represents a form of "regulatory arbitrage." ¹ In an effort to create a streamlined, globally consistent process and minimize its own potential liability across jurisdictions, YouTube effectively bypasses the procedural safeguards built into Indian law. This grants copyright holders like ANI a degree of power they would not possess if the process were strictly governed by the Indian legal framework. The 21-day judicial review window provided by Indian law is rendered moot by a platform policy that prioritizes immediate takedowns. This creates a system where creators are presumed guilty until they can prove their innocence, a complete inversion of the legal principle. 

The practical consequence of this policy is a significant "chilling effect" on free expression. YouTube, navigating the complex legal terrain of India, often adopts a "cautionary" approach, opting to swiftly remove disputed content to avoid being embroiled in legal battles itself. ¹ While understandable from a corporate risk-management perspective, this approach gives short shrift to the doctrine of fair dealing. The platform, in its effort to remain neutral, inadvertently becomes an enforcement arm for aggressive copyright claimants. The burden of proof and the onus of initiating a challenge are shifted entirely onto the creator, who must navigate a complex counter-notification process with the threat of channel termination looming over them. ¹ YouTube's system, designed for global efficiency, fails to account for the substantive legal rights of creators under Indian law, transforming it from a neutral conduit for information into an active, albeit unintentional, arbiter of content disputes, heavily favouring the claimant. 

The legal proceedings initiated by ANI against YouTuber Mohak Mangal have become a focal point of this entire conflict, carrying the potential to set a landmark precedent for digital fair use in India. The case is being contested across multiple judicial forums, including a civil suit in the Patiala House Court and proceedings in the Delhi High Court. ¹ The significance of the dispute was underscored when the Delhi High Court referred Mangal's transfer plea to its specialized Intellectual Property Division, indicating that the judiciary recognizes the complex and important questions of law at stake. ⁴ A definitive ruling in this case could provide much-needed judicial clarity on how the qualitative test for fair dealing applies to transformative works like video commentary on platforms like YouTube. 

ANI's strategy appears to extend beyond isolated legal challenges. The agency's own admission in court that it has collected up to ₹45 lakh from YouTubers through licensing agreements points to a broader, revenue-driven pattern of conduct. ² A particularly concerning aspect of this strategy is the reported use of non-disclosure agreements (NDAs) within these settlement contracts. ¹ By binding creators to silence, these NDAs prevent them from sharing their experiences, thereby fostering an environment of fear and isolation. This tactic effectively stymies the potential for collective action and public scrutiny, allowing the practice to continue unchallenged as individual creators are dealt with one by one. 

The outcomes of these disputes have been inconsistent, highlighting the unpredictability of the current ecosystem. While ANI successfully pursued cases against smaller entities like the news portal Akram Khan, it faced a different result in the case of Ramit Verma, the creator behind the channel 'Official PeeingHuman'. ¹ In that instance, YouTube itself stepped in and reinstated Verma's video, judging it to be a clear case of fair use. ¹ This intervention by the platform is rare and underscores the arbitrary nature of enforcement. The fate of a creator's content can depend not on a consistent application of legal principles, but on whether their case happens to catch the attention of a human reviewer at YouTube or becomes a cause célèbre. This inconsistency benefits the aggressor, who can exploit the uncertainty to pressure creators into settlements. 

The confrontation between ANI and Indian YouTubers is a watershed moment, revealing a systemic vulnerability at the intersection of law, technology, and media. The weaponization of ambiguous copyright statutes, amplified by global platform policies that run roughshod over domestic legal protections, has created a climate of coercion that threatens to stifle the growth of independent digital media in India. This is not merely a commercial dispute; it is a battle for the future of public discourse and the right to critique and comment in the digital public sphere. To navigate this challenge, a multi-pronged approach is essential. 

For the judiciary, the Mohak Mangal case presents a seminal opportunity. The courts must rise to the occasion and deliver a clear, nuanced, and forward-looking judgment that authoritatively interprets the 'fair dealing' doctrine for the digital age, with a particular focus on the value of transformative use. This would provide the legal certainty that creators and platforms desperately need. For the legislature, this dispute should serve as a catalyst for reform. While avoiding overly prescriptive rules, Parliament should consider refining the Copyright Act to provide clearer guidance on fair dealing in the context of online commentary and analysis, thereby reducing the ambiguity that enables copyright trolling. 

Furthermore, the Government and its regulators must re-evaluate the enforcement of intermediary liability. They must insist that global platforms operating in India align their content moderation policies with the procedural safeguards enshrined in Indian law, such as the 21-day window for obtaining a court order. Platforms cannot be allowed to engage in regulatory arbitrage that undermines the rights of Indian citizens. Finally, platforms like YouTube have a corporate and ethical responsibility to reform their systems. They must invest in more sophisticated and context-aware moderation processes that give due weight to fair dealing defenses from the outset, rather than defaulting to a takedown-first approach. The health of India's democracy depends on a vibrant, diverse, and critical media landscape. Protecting the digital public square from being cordoned off by powerful incumbents leveraging legal and policy loopholes is not just a matter of creator rights; it is a prerequisite for ensuring that freedom of expression flourishes in the 21st century.