“Why Digital Content Feels Free — Even When It Isn’t”

I have noticed that most copyright problems today do not begin with bad intentions. They begin with convenience. Someone downloads a song, reposts a clip, uses a trending sound, adds an image to a campaign, and because everything happens in seconds, nobody stops to ask the uncomfortable question:

“Do we actually have permission to use this?”

Most people get it wrong, not in the concept, but in the execution. At least everyone should know that you need to “ask for permission,” but very few understand what it actually looks like in a digital environment where content moves fast, ownership is not always obvious, the line between personal use and commercial use can shift quickly.

The first thing to understand is that there is no single place where you “request permission” for everything. It depends on what you are using. Music, for example, is usually managed through publishers, labels, or licensing platforms. Images might be handled through stock agencies or directly by the creator. Video content often involves production companies or media rights holders. Most of the time there is not an intention to harm or take advantage but that first step of identifying who actually owns the rights, is not as simple as it seems.

Platforms seem like everything is already included. You upload a video, select a trending sound just by clicking in it, and everything seems fine. But that permission is often limited, and usually tied to personal or non-commercial use within the platform. The moment you step outside that context, for example by using the same content in a paid campaign, a brand promotion, or external distribution, you are no longer covered by the default permission.

I have seen restaurants use trending TikTok audio for promotional campaigns, real estate projects use cinematic music in luxury property videos, gyms broadcasting Spotify playlists commercially, and brands reposting influencer content assuming that a “tag” equals authorization. Many times nobody is trying to infringe anything. The problem is that digital culture normalized speed long before it normalized licensing.

Pantalla de un smartphone mostrando aplicaciones populares de redes sociales, cada una con notificaciones: Threads, TikTok, Messenger, Telegram, Instagram, X, Facebook y WhatsApp.

A practical way to think about this is that every license — especially free ones — has a scope. A license might allow you to use a song in a social media post, but not in a commercial advertisement. It might allow use within a specific territory, for a specific period of time, or under certain conditions. And once you step outside of that scope, even unintentionally, you are no longer operating under permission. I have seen cases like this escalate in ways nobody could foresee.

Preparing this article actually reminded me how often these conversations appear outside law firms. Sometimes it happens at a dinner, sometimes while reviewing a marketing campaign, sometimes even watching my kids scroll through content that mixes music, clips, memes and brands so naturally that ownership becomes almost invisible. That is probably the biggest shift of the digital era: content no longer looks “owned” in the traditional sense, even though legally it still is.

The dangerous part is that platforms create the illusion that permission is automatic.

• It feels built in.

• Click the sound.

• Upload the reel.

• Add the clip.

• Publish.

But most platform permissions are extremely contextual.

Years ago, the viral “Mentos and Coca-Cola” phenomenon became a perfect example of how digital culture can collide with intellectual property and branding concerns. Millions of people saw it as harmless entertainment. From the perspective of brand owners, however, it was more complicated. Products were suddenly being associated with uncontrolled experiments, altered consumer perceptions, and viral narratives that no company had designed or approved. That is the reality of the digital economy: content can transform the perception of a brand faster than legal departments can react.

Experimento químico: mentos a punto de sumergirse en una botella de Coca-Cola, preparándose para una reacción efervescente.

That is the kind of situation where no one is necessarily thinking about licenses at the beginning, but it shows how content, once it is out there, can interact with intellectual property in ways that were not planned. And if you take that same logic into a commercial context, the risk becomes more obvious.

If you do not secure the proper permissions, it is usually not dramatic in the way people imagine, it is not always about lawsuits. Most of the time, it starts with takedowns, content being removed, accounts being flagged, campaigns being interrupted. When that same use is tied to a brand, a product, or a business strategy, the stakes rise considerably. What might have been a minor oversight can quickly translate into reputational damage, wasted marketing investment, or disputes that end up requiring negotiation long after occurred. 

What happens when a license exists, but its limits are not respected. Sometimes the agreement is clear, other times it is interpreted loosely, or people assume that because something was allowed once, it can continue indefinitely. Is not always the case. A license can expire, it can be limited to a specific campaign, or it can exclude certain uses that were not initially considered.

There are also situations where the scope of a license evolves over time, either because the agreement expressly allows extensions, or because both parties continue operating in a way that informally suggests consent — what some might interpret as a tacit extension.

The problem is that relying on assumptions is precisely where legal risk begins to build. What feels like an informal continuation of permission may not survive once the relationship changes, the campaign becomes successful, or the commercial stakes increase.

None of this is particularly complicated when you break it down — but it does demand a certain level of discipline. The moment you use content that belongs to someone else, three questions should follow immediately: who owns it, what are you permitted to do with it, and does your use actually fall within those boundaries. If there is any doubt, it is usually better to clarify before using it rather than trying to fix it afterward. In a digital environment, the issue is not whether the right exists, it almost always does. The real question is whether you are using it within the boundaries that were actually granted, and that is where mistakes happen.

In many ways, digital licensing today resembles driving in Costa Rica. Most people are moving fast, improvising, following what everyone else seems to be doing, assuming the rules are flexible until something suddenly goes wrong. But intellectual property rarely disappears simply because technology made copying easier.

The rights are still there.

What changed is that the digital world made the boundaries harder to see.