Fidelity consulting: Marko Miljanov's works in the public domain since 1971, how rights that do not exist were sold

The company Fidelity Consulting has released a video that they claim was recorded in the office of the director of the Radosav Ljumović National Library, Slavica Ilinčić, in which she announces that Nova knjiga has purchased the copyright to the Works of Marko Miljanov and thus became the sole, exclusive owner of the copyright for a certain period of time.

They asked from whom the non-existent rights were purchased, who legitimized himself as the owner of something that has belonged to no one since 1971, what exactly was charged and into which bank account the "decedent's payment" was made.

Fidelity Consulting states that "no one sold anything, but the 'exclusivity' was invented on camera for the purpose of Slavica's self-rescue from criminal proceedings, in front of the camera, during working hours, which is not a criminal offense, but is a diagnosis of a fabrication."

We are reposting the Fidelity consulting post on their Facebook page in its entirety:

"There is a video, freshly recorded in the office, with the official PG coat of arms on the table, with a set design that says: here, the masses, the masses of serious things are announced. And indeed, the director of the National Library "Radosav Ljumović", solemnly, confidently and powerfully, announces news that is not heard every day: Nova knjiga doo has purchased the copyright to the Works of Marko Miljanov and thus became the sole, exclusive owner of the copyright for a certain period of time.

Let's add – in the universe.

Let's read this again, more slowly, syllable by syllable. Someone, in the twenty-sixth year of the twenty-first century, in an era in which the entire work of Duke Marko can be accessed in three clicks, bought the exclusive copyright to a writer who died in nineteen hundred and one.

To understand the full magnitude of this undertaking, one must remember who bought it. During his lifetime, Marko Miljanov was tried to buy by the most serious buyers of the era: Prince Nikola showered him with ranks and a court in an attempt to buy him; Duke Marko cooled him off and went to Medun. The Porte also tried, buying up border chieftains wholesale and on the go; they couldn't afford to buy him either.

Marko, therefore, rejected the two strongest tricks of his age and died unbridled. And then, one hundred and twenty-five years later, Slavica and the New Book succeeded in what neither the court nor the empire had succeeded in during Marko's lifetime: to buy him.

The history of fraud knows Victor Lustig, the man who sold the Eiffel Tower. But Lustig, the fraudster of fraudsters, was also selling something that at least existed. Here a much greater fraud was perpetrated: rights that ceased to exist fifty-five years ago were being traded, and that of a writer who died one hundred and twenty-five years ago, and all of this was announced in the tone of a fast-food kiosk selling smoked chicken drumsticks.

We do not know how the negotiation process went and we sincerely regret not having been present at that act, as it must have been a scene for the history of the notary service. Who represented the duke's side? A lawyer, a medium, a spiritualist seance in the publisher's premises or perhaps Slavica? Was the contract signed with ink or ectoplasm? Did the duke negotiate hard, as befits him, or did he give in to the first offer, softened by the one hundred and twenty-five years of waiting for the fee? We hope, for the sake of legal certainty, that a termination clause was also agreed upon in the event of a resurrection.

And now, all joking aside, a few facts. Marko Miljanov Popović died in 1901. Copyright lasts seventy (70) years from the author's death, not because the legislator is romantic, but because after that the work belongs to everyone: it is a century and a half old civilizational agreement, known to every law student by February of their first year, and to librarians, I guess, ex officio. But apparently, not to Slavica.

Mark's rights expired no later than 1971, the year when man had already been on the moon, and Nova knjiga doo was in the minds of the Woodstock voodoo dolls.

Since then, Marko Miljanov's literature has been a public good, like the alphabet, like Lovćen, like gravity: free, everyone's and no one's. Buying exclusive rights to it is as feasible as buying exclusive rights to the wind: you can sign a contract, pay properly, issue an invoice with VAT, and even call a press conference, but the wind will still blow to everyone, completely unaware that it has changed owners.

And if the wind blowing sounds familiar to you, it's no coincidence: the director of Nova knjiga, which bought the non-existent rights to Marko, published a collection titled "Wind Hunter". Nova knjiga, therefore, has a well-rounded specialization: first it hunts the wind in verse, then it buys up the rights to which it has no right, and finally it invoices it.

The ultimate business model: vertical integration of the unattainable.

This raises a question for the annals of the law of obligations: from whom were non-existent rights purchased? Who legitimized himself as the owner of something that has belonged to no one since 1971? What exactly did he charge and, a purely technical question, into which bank account was the deceased paid?

Because here, mathematically, there are only two possibilities, and both are divinely wonderful. The first: someone really sold what is not theirs (and is not anyone's) that has a name, article and position in the Criminal Code, and which would mean that Nova knjiga is the victim of the fraud of the century, in which case we sincerely recommend that it file a report where we will be happy to follow the trial.

Second: no one sold anything, but the "exclusivity" was invented on camera for the purpose of Slavica's self-rescue from criminal proceedings, in front of the camera, during working hours, which is not a criminal offense, but is a diagnosis of a fabrication.

And lest this be the first time that someone has touched Marko's works without exclusive papers: with a simple query in COBIS, we see several editions, namely "Works", Belgrade, Prosveta, 1947. "Works", Podgorica, CID, 1996. "Works", Podgorica, CID, 2001.

Three publishers, two countries, zero paid rights because, remember, there are no rights.

So, there is no exclusivity on the Works of Marko Miljanov, so it could have been published by any publishing house from Podgorica to Reykjavik. Of course, with a previously announced tender!

And let's end where Duke Marko would have begun. The man learned to read at the age of fifty, which is proof that it's never too late to read.

In "Examples of Manliness and Heroism," he left the shortest definition of public ethics in this language: heroism is to defend oneself from others, and manliness is to defend others from oneself.

Yes, translated to Slavica: it is heroic to defend a supplier with invented rights. It is humane to announce a tender and protect the budget from oneself.

"Vojvoda Marko deserved that honor, not to be exclusively bought and sold for a handful of euros," Fidelity Consulting wrote in the announcement.