Copyright in the Age of Platforms and Digital Culture

Part of these reflections came from my preparation and participation as a speaker at ASPI 2026 in São Paulo, where one of the most interesting discussions was not whether copyright still exists — everyone agrees it does — but how difficult it has become to apply traditional copyright logic inside today’s digital ecosystems.

For a long time, copyright issues were relatively easy to understand, someone copied something that wasn’t theirs, a newspaper, a book, later a DVD, and the discussion was centered around that copy, whether it was copied illegally, how it was distributed, and who was responsible for the infringement. It was a simpler world to navigate, the product was physical, the infringement was visible, and the line between original and copy was much easier to draw.

The reality today looks quite different. We are no longer talking only about full copies, we are talking about fragments, a few seconds, a line from a song, a brief clip, a passing extract, -what platforms and creators now commonly refer to as “snippets”, all circulating inside different ecosystems where millions of people produce content every day. In addition, artificial intelligence has made the discussion even more complex, allowing content to be replicated, transformed, or reinterpreted at a scale and speed that traditional copyright systems were never designed to handle.

Platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube are not the ones creating the infringement, they are simply the canvas where it happens. They are intermediaries, not direct actors, and they operate under a very specific logic: they do not actively monitor everything that gets uploaded, but they do respond once a claim is filed. 

Aplicaciones de redes sociales en un smartphone, mostrando notificaciones de varias plataformas populares como Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, y más.

This is not accidental, it comes from U.S. law, particularly safe harbor frameworks, where platforms are not held liable as long as they respond appropriately to notices. In practical terms, this means something very simple: if you have a legal right and you can show it, your request to have content removed will be complied with. Most of these situations are handled within the platform itself, through private agreements, these “small” infringements rarely make it to a court. What makes the discussion even more interesting in Latin America is that many of these digital disputes are governed by platform policies and international frameworks long before they ever reach a local court.

This changes how copyright is experienced in practice, where enforcement now operates through multiple layers of platform policies, automated systems, and legal compliance mechanisms. It is no longer a theoretical discussion about ownership, in most cases that is not the problem. The real issue is how that right is exercised in an environment where everything is immediate, replicable, and difficult to control in real time. A very clear example is the distinction between personal use and commercial use. Today it is common for someone to use a song, a clip, or a reference in personal content without triggering an immediate issue. But the moment that same content is used to promote a brand, a product, or to generate a clear economic benefit, the analysis shifts, and that is where problems begin.

Even seemingly harmless situations are not immune to this. A child repeating a line from a song or using a sound does not raise much concern, but when that same content is used in a different context, the legal perspective changes. Watching my own children interact with platforms like Roblox made me realize how naturally the next generation moves inside spaces filled with intellectual property. For them, recreating a football jersey, using a movie-inspired avatar, or adding music to a digital world feels completely intuitive. What they do not see — at least not yet — is the legal infrastructure operating quietly behind those ecosystems. Sometimes customizations disappear overnight from the platform because they were too similar to protected content. Not necessarily because there was a literal copy, but because the resemblance itself created legal exposure around copyright, trademarks, image rights, or unfair association.

Certainly, most platform users have experienced this without realizing it. A video suddenly loses audio on Instagram. A YouTube creator gets demonetized. A Roblox asset disappears. A livestream is flagged because background music was playing. These are no longer rare situations; they are part of daily digital life.

These are the kinds of situations that stand out because they do not fit neatly into the traditional idea of infringement. It is not a full copy, not a literal reproduction, but there is still a right behind it that can be enforced. 

Documento legal revisado con un sello de madera, que indica verificación técnica y sustantiva.

There are larger creators, like MrBeast, who operate under a completely different framework. They do not operate casually or spontaneously; they work through licenses, pre-negotiated agreements, and legal structures that allow content to be used with significantly lower risk. The issue is that others often try to replicate the format, using similar music, visuals, or concepts, and end up crossing a line without fully realizing it. 

That is where enforcement comes in, not necessarily through courts, but through practical mechanisms like claims and takedowns. Sports broadcasting offers another very visible example of how these restrictions operate in practice. If you watch highlights of major events like the World Cup, you will notice that many videos do not include actual goals, player footage, or key plays. That is not accidental. Those rights are controlled, and only licensed broadcasters can fully exploit that content. Everyone else has to adapt, they can comment, analyze, react, but they cannot use the protected material directly.

This captures the current landscape quite well. No one is questioning whether copyright exists, that part is very clear. What is not as clear, or at least not as intuitive, is how it applies in an environment where content is constantly created, transformed, fragmented, and redistributed in seconds.

Ultimately, this is less about legal theory and more about common sense. Most people instinctively understand, at least partially, when they are crossing a line. The problem is that digital platforms move so quickly that the consequences often arrive before users fully understand the rules. Maybe it does not end in a courtroom or a settlement negotiation, but a takedown, a flagged account, demonetization, or repeated claims can still have serious consequences for anyone trying to build a serious digital presence.

The digital economy rewards speed, but copyright law was built around control, attribution, and ownership. Much of today’s tension comes from trying to reconcile those two realities.