Fomer Tamil Nadu Chief Minister M. Karunanidhi.
To mark the birth centenary of former Chief Minister and Muthamil Arignar (Tamil scholar) M. Karunanidhi, the Tamil Nadu government has nationalised his entire literary output. Nationalisation is a curious practice of literary paternalism unique to Tamil Nadu. This means that Karunanidhi’s works will no longer be under a copyright regime. They will be in the public domain, and anyone can publish or translate his works in any form. Literary works are governed by copyright laws. Copyright is a property right that vests in an author, and after their death, passes on to their legal heirs for 60 calendar years.
A unique practice
To most parts of the world, this is a novel — even unheard of — intervention by the state. But in Tamil Nadu, this practice is 75 years old. As it often happens in Tamil culture, this innovation too began with the great poet, Subramania Bharati. Following his death in indigent circumstances, his widow Chellamma Bharati made a distress sale of his copyright. Eventually, the broadcast rights passed on to A.V. Meiyappa Chettiar. That the work of a literary icon was now the private property of a mercenary filmmaker triggered an uproar. Following this, the then Madras government, in 1949, acquired Bharati’s copyright and later released it for unrestricted public use. More than being an executive legal intervention to settle a copyright issue, this was actually a unique honour bestowed on Bharati. This was a distinction that M.K. Gandhi, B.R. Ambedkar, Jawaharlal Nehru, or Rabindranath Tagore did not have.
By the 1980s, similar copyright difficulties were encountered in relation to Bharati’s premier follower, Bharathidasan. During his brief return to power in 1989-91, Karunanidhi nationalised Bharathidasan’s works. But few would have imagined that this would lead to political one-upmanship. In 1994, when her Dravidian credentials were under attack, the then Chief Minister, Jayalalithaa, nationalised the writings of the DMK founder, C.N. Annadurai. In a glittering function, ₹75 lakh was handed over to his wife Rani Annadurai as compensation.
The floodgates were now open. A stream of writers was freed from copyright. The works of 179 writers have been nationalised by the government so far. Nearly ₹15 crore of public money has been disbursed to their legal heirs. What was originally conceived of as an honour for exceptional cultural figures has now been emptied of all significance. Today, the most knowledgeable literary historians may find it difficult to identify many of the 179 writers.
This practice has had worse implications as well. Given that the Tamil publishing industry is more or less a cottage enterprise, knowledge of copyright issues is at best rudimentary. In their zeal to act as patrons of art, successive governments have devoted little attention to various concomitant issues. For instance, in whom do the moral rights of nationalised authors vest? In acquiring copyright, the government has invariably compensated legal heirs, i.e., family, rather than the work’s legal owners. Publishers who acquired the right through due legal process have often been put to loss. In some cases, the government nationalised authors, such as the first Tamil novelist, S. Vedanayakam Pillai, and the Tamil scholar, V.G. Suryanarayana Sastri, decades after the copyright had legally lapsed. To add to the confusion, the works of authors such as Rajam Krishnan were added to the list when they were still alive. This presents a bizarre legal conundrum: can copyright be given away even before the composition of a work?
Further, there has been no consistency in awarding monetary compensation. Termed ‘solatium’, it has a strong whiff of patronisation. These days, whenever a writer dies, there is a clamour to nationalise their works. Their families queue up at Fort St George, the seat of power, expecting a largesse. Vested interests have often tried to influence the government’s decision. At least in three cases — Kannadasan, Mu. Varadarajan and Sundara Ramaswamy — the government announced nationalisation without obtaining prior consent from the families and had to rescind its decision following their objections.
Effects on publishing industry
No doubt, nationalisation has democratised literature and aided genuine scholarly work. But its deleterious effects far outstrip its benefits. The huge pile up of Kalki’s Ponniyin Selvan at book fairs does not make for a pretty sight. Predatory publishers have exploited the situation without any moral qualms. They have preyed on the huge volume of books released from copyright and dumped them on state-funded public libraries through unscrupulous methods. The works of well-known authors and even classics have been pillaged, their titles ravaged, and authorship changed. The situation has reached such alarming proportions that the Madras High Court has ordered an enquiry. The many problems unleashed by the well-intentioned moves of the government cry for urgent resolution.
In nationalising the works of Karunanidhi, the process that began with Bharati has reached its zenith. M.K. Stalin has discharged his duty twofold: as Chief Minister, he has put a celebrated writer’s works in the public domain; and as a son, he has waived compensation for giving up the copyright. From Bharati to Karunanidhi, the story of the Tamil Nadu government’s intervention in literary copyright is complete. It is now time to declare a moratorium on the nationalisation of literary works. Other ways to patronise literature and support indigent writers can easily be devised.
A.R. Venkatachalapathy is the author of Who Owns That Song?: The Battle for Subramania Bharati’s Copyright
