If you’ve watched a movie in your local theater or on DVD in the past year, you’ve probably seen the MPAA’s obnoxious anti-piracy ad. It’s the one that goes, “You wouldn’t steal a car. You wouldn’t steal a handbag. You wouldn’t steal a television. You wouldn’t steal a DVD. Downloading pirated films is stealing. Stealing is illegal. Piracy is a crime.” It’s hard to argue with their logic.

A Slippery Slope

Consider the order in which they present the thefts. Cars are commonly the most valuable property that a person can be robbed of—at least until someone finds a way to steal a house (trailer homes don’t count). A person’s handbag or wallet contains their entire identity, making its theft an even more personal and intrusive crime. (Not to mention that it’s a huge hassle replacing the contents.) Televisions, while easily replaced, are usually kept somewhere that our cars, purses and wallets are not—in our homes. Short of being the victim of a violent crime, having one’s home robbed is the surest way to be left feeling violated.

And then there’s the sticky matter of the DVD. “You wouldn’t steal a DVD.” You may have noticed that the victim has suddenly shifted from an individual to a merchant or, more likely, a faceless corporation like Wal-Mart. (Amazon.com, you’re safe. For now.) Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that shoplifting is okay. But morally it’s just not the same as stealing directly from an individual if you look at it from a standpoint of personal damages and trauma. I don’t know for certain, but there probably hasn’t been a case of a Best Buy manager undergoing psychological therapy because someone didn’t pay for his store’s last copy of Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

Personally, I don’t have the stomach for shoplifting. The first and only time I stole something from a store was when I was very young. I pocketed a box of tic tacs on the way out of the drug store and felt so guilty during the ride home that I couldn’t stop fidgeting with the mints. Eventually my mom asked me what I was hiding and, long story short, I returned the hot merchandise complete with an apology. And yet somehow I don’t feel the least bit guilty about downloading terabytes of pirated media. What’s up with that?

It would appear that the same ethical gap that divides theft of personal property and shoplifting also exists, arguably to an even greater degree, between shoplifting and piracy. The concept of a victim becomes that much more nebulous and faceless. Rather than violating a person’s trust in humanity, as is the case with car theft, purse snatching, or a home break-in, or even depriving a store of physical merchandise and revenue, piracy harms entire industries. Or so we’re told.

Despite claims by the motion picture and recording industry associations that every movie or song downloaded illegally equals one sale lost, this is far from being the case. The majority of pirates, myself included, mostly download things that they would never have paid for in the first place. What’s more, many self-proclaimed pirates buy movies, music and software that they wouldn’t have been sold on had they not tried them first. Some bands even promote the sharing of their music online as a way to build an audience.

Speaking of, here’s a musical interlude from my favorite local band: Awesome Car Funmaker’s “An Ode to Piracy” (for which I titled this article). And yes, I’ve bought all their albums. If you like the song you just pirated, maybe you should too.

Toeing the Line

Recently my mother expressed her opinion on piracy. “It’s wrong. It’s stealing.” I have to wonder if she’s been influenced by the MPAA’s pervasive propaganda. The irony is that she has no problem copying a Rod Stewart CD for my grandmother or asking me to download and mail her a burned DVD of Boston Legal when she misses an episode. And my father, a strait-laced assistant district attorney, seemed to have no qualms about copying video rentals when I was a kid. The law is clear on these matters—my entire family should be prosecuted, fined, and perhaps imprisoned. (If the FBI is reading this, then, um, this is a purely fictional piece.)

Of course, copying a CD for a family member feels kosher. How about for a close friend? A friend of a friend? Someone you met online? Where do you draw the line? Industry lobbyists have politely asked legislators to draw the line in thick permanent marker right around you. You may think you own that movie you just paid twenty bucks for, but the truth is that, knowingly or not, you entered into a contract that dictates the ways in which you can use it.

Perhaps if piracy were ever to become the status quo, the media would be in trouble, but it’s not. All that threatens them at present is the terrifying prospect of changing modes of distribution and exhibition. For now, the MPAA and RIAA are two giants standing ankle-deep in a puddle of piracy, screaming that they’re about to drown. The governments of the world are obligingly coming to their aid because, after all, it’s never a good idea to piss off giants.

You’ve probably painted a mental image of the swarthy pirate writing this article. The fact is that I’ve bought some 2,000 DVDs, over 100 video games, and the albums of all my favorite musicians. When people see my movie collection, accusations of “pirate” don’t come to mind so much as “consumer whore.” I see films in theaters more often than the average moviegoer and if I weren’t infatuated with bands that have long since stopped touring, I’d probably go to quite a few concerts, too. I subscribe to Netflix. I have an iTunes account. I actually purchased a licensed copy of Windows XP Pro.

And still, I let my pirate flag fly.