- The D.C. Circuit ruled that the Copyright Act demands human authorship, leaving AI-generated works like Thaler’s out in the cold—no matter how dazzling they might be.
- Thaler’s insistence on listing his “Creativity Machine” as the sole author sank his case, sidelining debates about human-AI collaboration for another day.
- The decision doubles down on a growing trend: the Copyright Office has consistently rejected AI-only creations, from award-winning digital operas to Van Gogh-inspired remixes, sparking a broader clash over art and technology.
Thaler’s journey to the D.C. Circuit began with a bold gambit. In 2018, he applied to register A Recent Entrance to Paradise, a shimmering, otherworldly image his AI spat out without human meddling—or so he claimed. He listed the Creativity Machine as the author, framing it as a standalone artist. The Copyright Office balked, citing a lack of human involvement. Thaler pushed back, appealing to a federal district court in 2023. When that judge sided with the government, he took his fight to the appeals court, arguing that century-old legal notions shouldn’t dictate the fate of modern machine-made art.
Judge Patricia A. Millett, writing for the panel, wasn’t swayed. “To start, the text of multiple provisions of the statute indicates that authors must be humans, not machines,” she wrote, her opinion a meticulous dissection of the Copyright Act’s language and history. She pointed to terms like “widow,” “children,” and “heirs”—concepts tied to human life, not silicon circuits. The court leaned on the Copyright Office’s long-standing interpretation, too, noting that Congress likely hardened that human-centric view into the 1976 law when it overhauled copyright rules.
Thaler’s team fired back, calling the ruling a relic of “Gilded Age” thinking unfit for an era where AI can churn out poetry, paintings, and symphonies. “We disagree strongly,” his counsel, Ryan Abbott, said after the decision dropped. “This isn’t the end—we’re planning to appeal.”
But the court didn’t budge, and Thaler’s own strategy may have boxed him in. By naming the Creativity Machine as the sole author, he waved off any chance to argue he deserved credit as the human pulling the strings. “Those line-drawing disagreements over how much artificial intelligence contributed to a particular human author’s work are neither here nor there in this case,” Millett wrote. “Dr. Thaler argues only for the copyrightability of a work authored exclusively by artificial intelligence.”
The Copyright Office, for its part, is crowing victory. “The court reached the correct result today,” the agency said in a statement, “affirming the office’s registration decision and confirming that human authorship is required for copyright.”
It’s not their first rodeo rejecting AI art, either. In 2022, they turned down Théâtre D’opéra Spatial, a stunning piece that snagged a prize at the Colorado State Fair—created by an AI with human prompting, but not enough to cross the authorship line. Later that year, the Copyright Office Review Board nixed another application for an AI-spun take on Van Gogh’s The Starry Night. The pattern’s clear: no human hand, no copyright stamp.
But Thaler’s case stands apart. Unlike those other works, where humans at least guided the AI, he went all-in on machine autonomy. That purity of vision—or stubbornness—proved his undoing. “Dr. Thaler listed the Creativity Machine as the sole author,” Millett noted, “and it is undeniably a machine, not a human being.” The court didn’t need to wrestle with murkier questions of collaboration, leaving that can of worms for future battles.
This ruling lands amid a whirlwind of debate over AI’s role in creativity. Machines can now crank out novels, compose music, and paint landscapes that rival the old masters—sometimes with human input, sometimes without. The Copyright Office has tried to draw a line, issuing guidance in 2023 that works with “significant human authorship”might qualify, while pure AI output doesn’t. But what’s “significant”? Artists, lawyers, and techies are still duking it out.
Take Jason Allen, the guy behind Théâtre D’opéra Spatial. He spent hours tweaking prompts for the AI tool Midjourney, only to see his copyright bid shot down. “I’m disappointed,” he said at the time, “but it’s forcing us to ask: where’s the soul in art?” Thaler, meanwhile, didn’t even try to claim a piece of the pie—he handed the brush to his machine and walked away. That choice made his case a lightning rod, but also a losing one.
What’s Next for Thaler—and AI Art?
Thaler’s team vows to appeal, likely aiming for the Supreme Court. It’s a long shot—the justices don’t take every case, and this one’s narrow focus on pure AI authorship might not tempt them. But if they do bite, it could be a blockbuster, forcing a reckoning on whether machines can truly “create” in the eyes of the law. For now, though, the D.C. Circuit’s ruling stands as a brick wall: no human, no copyright.
The broader fallout’s already rippling. Artists using AI tools are scrambling to prove their fingerprints are on the final product. Companies pumping out AI content might rethink their IP strategies.
For Thaler, it’s personal. He’s spent years championing his Creativity Machine, not just as a tool but as a collaborator—or even a rival. A Recent Entrance to Paradise might not get its copyright, but it’s etched its mark on this debate. The image itself—described as a dreamy, ethereal portal—feels like a taunt: beautiful, bold, and legally orphaned.
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