The Disclosure Revolution: It’s a WYDIWYG World

By Joseph E. Root

This post is excerpted, in modified form, from Rules of Patent Drafting: Guidelines from Federal Circuit Case Law (2010), © 2010, Oxford University Press, Inc.

There was a time when patent lawyers were magicians and their bags of tricks were filled with claim drafting tools. Write “a widget,” and shazam! “a widget” becomes as many as one could desire, all through the magic of claim interpretation. All those rules, where single sentences went on for days, and every other word was “said,” and language included words like “slidingly.” The mechanical people all said “comprising,” and the chemical people all said “consisting,” but nobody knew why, except maybe Judge Rich and Irving Kayton.

Now we are all “patent practitioners.” We go to seminars and talk about monetization. Edison, Tesla, Kilby, Noyce—they are all gone, and today’s idea of high technology is a patented tax strategy. Let a person commit the sin of colorful language and some guy from Chicago puts a contract out on him.

The claim-drafting wizards are gone but no one notices that their passing has not been a normal, stylistic change, going from gray flannel to bellbottoms to designer jeans. Step back and survey the patent world as a whole and one sees a fundamental shift in thinking over the last two decades. It is not just the claim-drafting wizards but the entire idea of patent claims that is gone. We still observe the old forms—every patent brief and judge’s opinion begins, “The claims define the invention.” And then something happens. Perhaps it turns out that the single embodiment was the true expression of the invention. Or a line in the summary suggested that the invention would not work unless the widget was painted red, so that limitation was read into the claims. Or a line in the prosecution history suggested that the widget needed to be painted blue. Or any of the other reasons for not simply reading and applying the claims.

The individual changes have been so numerous and so relentless that our attention has been completely captured by the details. We do not look beyond the crisis du jour to notice that the patent landscape has completely changed. Day to day, we Markman, we Festo. We watch the Supreme Court versus the Federal Circuit as if it were the Super Bowl. Every now and then someone sighs that the Doctrine of Equivalents has gone the way of the pocket watch—a nice combination of utility and style, but nowhere near as functional as the digital version.

Beyond the daily grind, however, the changes are cumulative, and they amount to a Disclosure Revolution. Claim magic is gone, replaced by “What You Disclose Is What You Get.” WYDIWYG.

Look at all the areas where quality of disclosure determines the scope of your claims. Claim construction, where wars are won and lost before a shot is fired. Written description, a doctrine seemingly hidden in the patent law for almost two centuries. Definiteness, where old rules about word meaning depend on what one finds in the detailed description. We have not simply changed styles, we have changed worlds.

But we don’t really get it. As a profession we are living in a mansion on Sunset Boulevard, watching old movies and waiting for a comeback, ready for the close-up that never comes. We still act as though better claim drafting will solve all of our problems. Our books are about claim drafting, our seminars are about claim drafting, and our education programs are about claim drafting. We rant endlessly about the latest Federal Circuit decision, and then we go back to exactly what we were doing before. Faced with prosecution history estoppel, we rack our brains, and our best thinking is a recommendation to stop filing amendments.

So far, our primary reaction to the Disclosure Revolution mostly consists of piling up reams of boilerplate. It is common to find two or three pages of boilerplate, all pleading for various points of construction. This strategy calls to mind Andre Maginot and the French defense establishment, who countered German blitzkrieg strategy by building lots of big forts. That did not work out so well, and to date the flood of boilerplate has enjoyed exactly the same success rate.

We need to learn how to live and succeed in Disclosure World. Start from the simple proposition that your claims will be interpreted completely based on your specification. If that is the world we live in, then we need to write better specifications. Continue to the notion that courts are going to look for the inventor’s intent, and the judge will construe the claims based on that intent. If that is what the court is going to do, then we must make sure that the patent clearly spells out that the inventor intends to include all variations of the claimed structure. Not in general boilerplate, but in specific broadening language.

This article sketches a brief history of the Disclosure Revolution. Readers will recognize individual events, having lived through most or all of them, but no one has yet put together an overall picture of the tectonic shifts that have occurred. We have lived through a true revolution and the history is laid out on that model.

The Disclosure Revolution appears to be here to stay. If we are to live long and prosper in this world, we must learn to cope with that Revolution on its own terms. This article aims to start that process.

The Ancien Régime

The patent world had its own Ancien Régime, where claim drafting was the highest calling and claim construction the touchstone of all analysis. The Disclosure Revolution, like other upheavals on wider stages, turned that world on its head. Before the deluge, the Ancien Régime seemed solid, prosperous, and eternal. But a number of factors made this structure vulnerable to sudden shock. Moreover, revolutions gain a momentum of their own, experiencing waves of increasing radicalization. Revolutions in the outer world lead first to a parliament, then to the guillotine, and then to the reaction of Napoleon. The Disclosure Revolution, still ongoing, is following a similar course. Here, fortunately, the inherent nature of patent lawyers has prevented the outbreak of anything more violent than aberrant claim constructions.

What has been lost in the passing of the Ancien Régime can best be understood by looking to a key area: claim construction.

Claim Construction

Claim construction in the Ancien Régime can be seen in a brief examination of a few prominent cases. The year 1985 seems a good starting point. The Federal Circuit was only a few years old and it was busily working toward patent law uniformity. The Revolution was still a few years off.

A good barometer of the times, and still cited, is the 1985 decision in SRI International v. Matsushita Electric Corp.[1] In that case, the patent concerned imaging technology. The court’s discussion of claim construction deserves consideration at length:

When claim construction is required, claims are construable, as above indicated, in light of the specification, yet “[t]hat claims are interpreted in light of the specification does not mean that everything expressed in the specification must be read into all the claims.” If everything in the specification were required to be read into the claims, or if structural claims were to be limited to devices operated precisely as a specification-described embodiment is operated, there would be no need for claims. Nor could an applicant, regardless of the prior art, claim more broadly than that embodiment. Nor would a basis remain for the statutory necessity that an applicant conclude his specification with “claims particularly pointing out and distinctly claiming the subject matter which the applicant regards as his invention.” It is the claims that measure the invention. Here, the claims, which must be read as a whole, set forth structures distinguished from the prior art and were allowed on the basis of structural differences.[2]

The difference between 1985 and 2011 is that then, the court meant what it said. Today, that language generally serves as a lead-in to a severely limited claim construction, based on reading limitations from the specification into the claims.[3]

Another 1985 decision, DeGeorge v. Bernier,[4] illustrates the Ancien Régime’s use of the specification in claim construction. The court faced an interference involving a control system for a computer printer. The invention featured a two-counter comparison paragraph indent (TCCPI) circuit. Claim construction turned on whether the claim mandated the inclusion of a printer/word processor in addition to the TCCPI. The claim itself suffered from poor structure, as it failed to clearly delineate the preamble, transition, and body, as shown:

Apparatus for controlling the operation of a data processing system printer having printing mechanism for printing characters and function mechanism for selecting the location of printing of characters, first means . . ., second means . . ., comparison circuit means . . ., and means limiting. . . .[5]

The question: Should a transition, such as “comprising,” be read into the claim before the “first means,” so that the printer is part of the preamble, or is “having” the actual transition, so that the printer is a claim element?

The court looked to the specification, which the court summarized: “The patent does not show or describe in reasonable detail any kind of printer, or data recording or playback mechanism with which the TCCPI feature may be used.”[6] Finding no evidence in the specification that the invention included a typewriter/word processor, the court declined to read that requirement into the claim.

Note the analytical process at work here. In determining whether the claim encompassed a printing device, the court could have employed various textual analysis tools to conclude that an output device was undoubtedly required. What the court did, however, was determine whether the specification showed a positive recitation of a printer or word processor, as opposed to any disclaimer of such a device.

When an Ancien Régime court said the claims were primary, it followed that statement with action. In both of the cited cases, the court genuinely looked to the specification for guidance into what a claim meant. That was about to change.

The Revolution

Like many revolutions of the modern world, the Disclosure Revolution came in two stages. And, like most revolutions, events rapidly spun out of control.

Phase I: Markman

The Disclosure Revolution started with the word “obligation.” That word, in the en banc decision Markman v. Westview Instruments, Inc.,[7] lay at the center of the holding, which read:

[I]n a case tried to a jury, the court has the power and obligation to construe as a matter of law the meaning of language used in the patent claim. As such, “[a] patent covers the invention or inventions which the court, in construing its provisions, decides that it describes and claims.”[8]

The decision concerned software for supporting a dry cleaning business. The appeal was occasioned by the meaning of the word “inventory.” The defendant’s software did not treat articles of clothing received for cleaning as “inventory,” and the district court had determined that the patent, whose main claim began, “An inventory control and reporting system,” required that it do so. No formal claim construction had been issued, nor had a hearing been conducted. Rather, the jury returned a verdict for the patent owner, and the judge granted the defendant’s motion for a judgment as a matter of law, on grounds that the patent required tracking the articles of clothing as “inventory.”

The Federal Circuit looked beyond the details of the case, however, to ask whether claim construction was a question of law for the judge or one of fact for the jury. The holding, set out above, answers that question
definitively. Today, that proposition sounds unremarkable, but in 1998, some considered it absolutely revolutionary. Judge Mayer, writing in dissent, was upset: “Today the court jettisons more than two hundred years of jurisprudence and eviscerates the role of the jury preserved by the Seventh Amendment of the Constitution of the United States; it marks a sea change in the course of patent law that is nothing short of bizarre.”[9]

The word “obligation” was lost for a time.[10] Markman itself does not suggest that judges hold a special claim construction hearing, for example, and that practice was not immediately adopted. The word had been spoken, however, and it could not be unsaid.

Phase II: Phillips

Seven years later, the “obligation” had come into its own, and Markman hearings had become a litigation fixture. To many, it seemed that the Federal Circuit had thought of nothing but claim construction during those years. Enter one Mr. Phillips, who had invented “modular, steelshell panels that could be welded together to form vandalism-resistant walls. The panels are especially useful in building prisons, because they are loadbearing and impact-resistant, while also insulating against fire and noise.” The patent claim included the term “baffle,” the meaning of which required lengthy analysis.

As with Markman, the court looked beyond the case at hand to larger issues—here, the claim construction process itself. Markman had set out thoughts on that subject, but those thoughts fell short of providing a detailed guide to the actual conduct of claim construction. In particular, the utility of, and hierarchy among, various sources of information had proved a vexing topic. The court seemed to favor dictionaries as the best guide to claim construction and it said as much in Texas Digital Systems, Inc. v. Telegenix, Inc.[11]

The court, again sitting en banc, seemed determined to speak clearly this time, and in large part it did. At the outset, the court firmly rejected Texas Digital’s elevation of dictionaries. Indeed, the court pushed aside all sources of information extrinsic to the patent and its prosecution history. Intrinsic evidence—the patent and its file history—assumed the place of honor. Among parts of the patent itself, primo inter pares, stood the specification. The flavor of the opinion can best be gauged by the following language, including the numerous quotes and citations:

Shortly after the creation of this court, Judge Rich wrote that “[t]he descriptive part of the specification aids in ascertaining the scope and meaning of the claims inasmuch as the words of the claims must be based on the description. The specification is, thus, the primary basis for construing the claims.” Standard Oil Co. v. Am. Cyanamid Co., 774 F.2d 448, 452 (Fed. Cir. 1985). On numerous occasions since then, we have reaffirmed that point, stating that “[t]he best source for understanding a technical term is the specification from which it arose, informed, as needed, by the prosecution history.” Multiform Desiccants, 133 F.3d at 1478; Metabolite Labs., Inc. v. Lab. Corp. of Am. Holdings, 370 F.3d 1354, 1360 (Fed. Cir. 2004) (“In most cases, the best source for discerning the proper context of claim terms is the patent specification wherein the patent applicant describes the invention.”); see also, e.g., Kinik Co. v. Int’l Trade Comm’n, 362 F.3d 1359, 1365 (Fed. Cir. 2004) “The words of patent claims have the meaning and scope with which they are used in the specification and the prosecution history.”); Moba, B.V. v. Diamond Automation, Inc., 325 F.3d 1306, 1315 (Fed. Cir. 2003) (“[T]he best indicator of claim meaning is its usage in context as understood by one of skill in the art at the time of invention.”).[12]

The court spoke clearly and directly. The specification rules.

With both pieces in place, the Disclosure Revolution could move into high gear.

Permanent Revolution

Before Leon Trotsky, revolutions came, occupied center stage for a time, and then moved toward reaction. The failure of the Bolshevik enterprise to ignite a worldwide rising of the proletariat, however, led Trotsky to posit the concept of permanent revolution, where revolutionaries stir the pot hopefully and patiently, always looking for opportunities to advance the cause. By keeping revolutionary fervor alive, Trotsky hoped to avoid a counterrevolution. Trotsky’s permanent revolution succumbed in the long run, but it survived for 70 years, and it did transform every aspect of Russian society. We do not know how long the Disclosure Revolution will last, but we can say that it shows every sign of completely transforming practically every aspect of patent law. A tour of the landscape reveals the extent of that transformation.

Claim Construction

No great power of observation is required to see that claim construction is the single most important aspect of contemporary litigation. One only has to note the flood of cases in which the parties stipulate to summary judgment after claim construction, sending the case to the Federal Circuit for “real” claim construction. With a settled construction, the case returns to the district court for trial, followed by the inevitable second appeal for review on the merits.

Claim construction is a process characterized by flexibility. True, a number of principles exist, culled from Supreme Court, Federal Circuit, and C.C.P.A. opinions. For every adage pointing one way, however (“claims are the measure of the invention”), another, equally authoritative, points in the opposite direction (“claim are read in light of the specification”). What determines which of the pair governs? Judgment, of course.

A flexible application of judgment is seen in a 2009 opinion, Abbott Laboratories v. Sandoz, Inc.[13] The opinion started from the principle that claims define the patent right and it proceeded to address the relationship between claims and specification, moving one step at a time, until it finally arrived at the observation that “sometimes the specification offers practically incontrovertible directions about claim meaning.” Speaking of consulting the specification to “clarify” claim terms, Judge Rader took pains to reassure drafters, saying “this court will not limit broader claim language to that single application ‘unless the patentee has demonstrated a clear intention to limit the claim scope using words or expressions of manifest exclusion or restriction.’” The judge’s final point revealed the court’s true thrust, however:

[T]his court may reach a narrower construction, limited to the embodiment(s) disclosed in the specification, when the claims themselves, the specification, or the prosecution history clearly indicate that the invention encompasses no more than that confined structure or method.[14]

Given that statement, one should not be surprised that the court did in fact reach a narrow claim construction.

The court’s quest for inventor intent is reflected in the following statement from a 2002 opinion:

[A] claim term will not carry its ordinary meaning if the intrinsic evidence shows that the patentee distinguished that term from prior art on the basis of a particular embodiment, expressly disclaimed subject matter, or described a particular embodiment as important to the invention.[15]

Note the assertion here: The court does not limit claim scope; the drafter herself chose to limit that scope—she, not the court, distinguished the claims from prior art or expressly disclaimed subject matter, or indicated that particular subject matter was particularly important to the invention. No, it is the inventors who choose to limit their own inventions. The court merely identifies and applies that intent.

If the standard is inventor intent, then the successful drafter will spell out that intent. In Disclosure World, claims may define the invention, but only after they are adjusted to conform to the inventor’s intent, as found in the specification.

Written Description

First they came for the chemical claims; then it was biotech; and now they have come for mechanical and electrical patents as well. The written description requirement of § 112, ¶ 1 served primarily as a priority mechanism for almost two centuries, ensuring that claims in continuing applications, or after amendment, drew support from the original text.[16] Starting with the 1997 decision in Regents of the University of California v. Eli Lilly & Co.,[17]the Federal Circuit deployed that requirement to ensure that patentees “possessed” a number of cutting-edge biotech and pharma inventions. The court read § 112, ¶ 1 to require disclosure of “possession,” in the form of structural recitation. Most recently, the Federal Circuit fully endorsed the Eli Lilly rationale in its 2010 en banc decision Ariad Pharmaceuticals, Inc. v. Eli Lilly & Co.[18]

These cases involved generic versus species claims, and their underlying rationale did not extend much into the mechanical and electrical realms. That situation altered with Gentry Gallery, Inc. v. Berkline[19] in 1998. There, the patent addressed a sofa, originally disclosed and claimed as having a control mounted on a console. The entirety of the specification’s discussion of the control elements’ location bears consideration:

It should be understood that the details of the design of the upholstery for the sofa sections and the styling of the console 24 are not part of the present invention. The push button controls 36 and 38 may be mounted on the top or side surfaces of the console rather than on the front wall 34 as shown without departing from this invention.[20]

The patent, however, did include an object of the invention: “to provide a reclining seat unit that includes easily accessible controls.”[21]

Here, then, the patentee did not expressly disclose alternative locations for the control elements. But equally, the text does not limit the controls to the console, nor does it identify any reason why one could assign any importance to the control’s location. And the object of the invention can be met by any embodiment of the invention that locates the controls on the console; the language does not indicate any intrinsic reason for locating the controls there.

An amendment had broadened the control location to any position on the sofa. No prior art prevented that change.

The process set out in SRI and DeGeorge would employ the specification to limit claims only when finding a clear intent to do so. The Disclosure Revolution changed black into white:

In this case, the original disclosure clearly identifies the console as the only possible location for the controls. It provides for only the most minor variation in the location of the controls. . . . No similar variation beyond the console is even suggested. Additionally, the only discernible purpose for the console is to house the controls. . . . Thus, locating the controls anywhere but on the console is outside the stated purpose of the invention.[22]

The patentee’s silence was used against him. The failure to set out alternative locations for the controls evinced a clear intent to limit that location to the one disclosed.

Note how this analysis differs from that of the Ancien Régime. There, the specification must show a positive intent to impose a limitation. Now, unless the specification shows a specific intent to broaden, a narrow intent is presumed. Disclosure World stands the Ancien Régime on its head.

These cases expand the disclosure requirement in two directions. The Eli Lilly rationale goes beyond enablement to limit the claims to the disclosure. The Gentry Gallery case reasons from the premise that disclosure of a structure represents a disclaimer of all other structures, absent specific statements to the contrary. In other words, the limitations are in the disclosure.

Enablement

The Federal Circuit’s approach to § 112, ¶ 1 may best be characterized in the words of that great American philosopher John R. Cash: “If the left one don’t get you then the right one will.” In a number of cases, best exemplified in Liebel-Flarsheim Co. v. Medrad, Inc.,[23] the court seemingly has enticed litigants by employing what looked to be that old-time claim construction. The district courts had reached narrow claim constructions, which the patentees appealed. The Federal Circuit had duly broadened the constructions. The parties then returned to the trial court, where the trap was sprung: Careful reading of the specification revealed that the broad claim construction was not enabled to the “full scope of the claims.”

Liebel-Flarsheim perfectly illustrates this situation. The invention concerned an instrument for injecting fluid into a human or animal patient. Liebel’s device included a pressure jacket to enable operation at high pressures, and the specification addressed exactly such a device. The preferred embodiment, as well as all drawings and other descriptions, included a pressure jacket, as did the originally filed claims. During prosecution, Liebel learned of a device offered by a competitor, Medrad, that did not include a pressure jacket. Immediately, all references to the pressure jacket were removed from the claims, and upon issuance of the patent, Liebel sued Medrad for infringement. The parties first litigated the claim construction, and on appeal to the Federal Circuit, Liebel secured an interpretation that did not require a pressure jacket. On remand, the district court promptly held the patent invalid for failure to meet the written description and enablement requirements of § 112, ¶ 1.

Liebel did not find the Federal Circuit nearly as receptive on the second visit. Analyzing the specification, the court noted that not only did the disclosure lack any mention of an injector without a pressure jacket, but, in fact, the specification pointed away from that configuration. In discussing the art, the background section mentioned devices without a pressure jacket but dismissed that design as “impractical.” Moreover, direct evidence of Liebel’s experience with nonjacketed injectors showed that the company had considered and dismissed such designs after their testing proved unsuccessful. The appeal concluded with Liebel’s patents being invalidated for lack of enablement. Considering Liebel’s Pyrrhic victory, Judge Lourie commented, “[t]he motto, ‘beware of what one asks for,’ might be applicable here.”

Here, and in similar cases,[24] the claim construction phase of the litigation seems to lean heavily on the claims themselves, in language harking back to the Ancien Régime. The final act, however, is all Disclosure World. If you didn’t disclose it, you can’t protect it.

Conclusion

One could go on for some time, tracing the breadth and depth of Disclosure Revolution’s effect on contemporary patent law. The examples above, however, make the point sufficiently. One can remember the world of SRI, where:

[i]f everything in the specification were required to be read into the claims, or if structural claims were to be limited to devices operated precisely as a specification-described embodiment is operated, there would be no need for claims. Nor could an applicant, regardless of the prior art, claim more broadly than that embodiment.[25]

But the nature of revolutions is to erase the past. The Bourbons are gone, the Romanovs are gone, and so are the patent claim wizards. We live in a WYDIWIG world, and we have to cope with it.

Byline

After 30 years’ practice as an IP lawyer, in-house and out, Joseph Root founded QualiPat, a venture aimed at providing improved training for patent drafters. He has applied that method for U.S. firms and for UnitedLex, a provider of IP services with operations in Kansas City and Delhi. As Chief Patent and Trademark Counsel for UnitedLex, Mr. Root leads a team of Indian engineers providing patent searching, analytics, and patent drafting to Fortune 500 companies. A product of that training is his new book, Rules of Patent Drafting: Guidelines from Federal Circuit Case Law, published by Oxford University Press in 2011. In addition, Mr. Root has been named to the 2011 IAM 250: The World’s Leading IP Strategists, compiled by Intellectual Asset Magazine, London. He can be reached at jroot@qualipat.com.

Endnotes


[1]. 775 F.2d 1107, 227 U.S.P.Q. (BNA) 577 (Fed. Cir. 1985).

[2]. Id. at 1121.

[3]. See, e.g., Abbott Labs. v. Sandoz, Inc., 566 F.3d 1282 (Fed. Cir. 2009).

[4]. 768 F.2d 1318, 226 U.S.P.Q. (BNA) 758 (Fed. Cir. 1985).

[5]. Id. at 1322.

[6]. Id.

[7]. 52 F.3d 967 (1995) (en banc), aff’d, 517 U.S. 370, 116 S. Ct. 1384, 134 L. Ed. 2d 577 (1996).

[8]. Id. at 979.

[9]. Id. at 989 (Mayer, J., dissenting) (emphasis in original).

[10]. Indeed, the Supreme Court did not seem to notice that word at all, as Mr. Justice Souter’s rendition of the Supreme Court’s holding reads, “we hold that the interpretation of the word ‘inventory’ in this case is an issue for the judge, not the jury, and affirm the decision of the Court of Appeals for the Federal Circuit.” Markman v. Westview Instr., Inc., 517 U.S. 370, 391 (1996).

[11]. 308 F.3d 1193 (Fed. Cir. 2002).

[12]. Id. at 1315.

[13]. 566 F.3d 1282 (Fed. Cir. 2009) (en banc, product by process issue only).

[14]. Id. at 1288 (citations omitted).

[15]. CCS Fitness, Inc. v. Brunswick Corp., 288 F.3d 1359, 1366–67 (Fed. Cir. 2002) (citations omitted).

[16]. In re Ruschig, 379 F.2d 990, 154 U.S.P.Q. (BNA) 118 (C.C.P.A. 1967).

[17]. 119 F.3d 1559, 43 U.S.P.Q.2d (BNA) 1398 (Fed. Cir. 1997).

[18]. 598 F.3d 1336 (Fed. Cir. 2010) (en banc).

[19]. 134 F.3d 1473 (Fed. Cir. 1998).

[20]. U.S. Patent No. 5,064,244, col. 2, l. 65–col. 3, l. 3 (filed June 3, 1991).

[21]. Id. at col. 1, ll. 33–37.

[22]. Gentry Gallery, 134 F.3d at 1479.

[23]. 481 F.3d 1371, 82 U.S.P.Q.2d (BNA) 1113 (Fed. Cir. 2007).

[24]. The patent in Automotive Technologies International v. BMW, 501 F.3d 1274, 84 U.S.P.Q.2d (BNA) 1108 (Fed. Cir. 2007), addressed a side impact crash sensor. A number of mechanical embodiments were presented, as was a single electronic version, described as “built according to the teachings of this invention.” U.S. Patent No. 5,231,253, col. 10, ll. 3–14 (filed June 2, 1960). The patentee admitted that it had not actually constructed such a device, and its argument relied upon knowledge of those in the art to fill in the gaps. Failure to provide concrete enablement at the point of novelty amounted to a failure to enable the invention to the full scope of the claims, and thus the patent was invalid.

The identical result was obtained in ALZA Corp. v. Andrx Pharmaceuticals, LLC, 603 F.3d 935 (Fed. Cir. 2010), where the patentee appealed for, and received, a claim construction covering both osmotic and non-osmotic dosage forms of a claimed pharmaceutical, only to run afoul of the “full scope” enablement.

[25]. SRI Int’l v. Matsushita Elec. Corp. 775 F.2d 1107, 226 U.S.P.Q. (BNA) 577, 585 (Fed. Cir. 1985).

[This post originally appeared in the American Bar Association’s Landslide publication.]

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