In praise of pseudonyms…

A remarkably inappropriately titled article appeared in the Telegraph this morning.

“Facebook will soon let you post using someone else’s name”

The article itself, however, said something quite different: that ‘Facebook is reportedly working on a mobile app that will let its users interact without using their real name’. If true, this could be important – and a very positive move. Facebook have long been the champions of ‘real names’ policies: for them to recognise that there are important benefits that arise from the use of pseudonymity and sometimes anonymity is a big development – because there are benefits, and pseudonymity is one of the keys to real freedom of speech and autonomy, both online and in the ‘real’ world.

Firstly, to dispose of the Telegraph’s appalling headline, a pseudonym is very rarely ‘someone else’s name’. There are cases where people try to impersonate others, but these are a tiny fraction of the times that people use pseudonyms. Pseudonyms have been used for a very long time, and for very good reasons. Many people are better known for their pseudonyms than for their ‘real’ names – and they certainly didn’t ‘steal’ them. Did Eric Blair steal the name George Orwell? Did Mary Ann Evans steal the name ‘George Eliot’? Did Gideon Osborne steal the name George? And looking at the first two of those names, did Orwell and Eliot, ‘belong’ to someone else? Of course they don’t. Another George even springs to mind: George Osborne. Should we inset on calling him Gideon, because that was the name his parents gave him? I’m politically opposed to him in every way – but I’d defend his right to call himself George, and defend it to the hilt. Pseudonyms often belong to the people using them every bit as much as their ‘real’ names. In some ways they’re even more representative of the people: when choosing a pseudonym, people often put a lot of thought into the process, choosing something that represents them in some way, or represents some aspect of them.

Sometimes it’s about presentation – and sometimes it’s to protect your ‘real’ identity in an entirely reasonable way. It’s not that you have something to hide – but that your autonomy is better served by the ability to separate your life in some ways. Without that ability, your freedom of expression is chilled. As I’ve written before, there are many kinds of people for whom pseudonymity is crucial: whistle-blowers, people whose positions of responsibility make open speech difficult, people with problematic pasts, people with enemies, people in vulnerable positions, people living under oppressive regimes, young people, people with names that identify their ethnicity or religion, women (at times), victims of spousal abuse and others. It’s also something that helps people to let of steam, to explore different aspects of their lives – or simply to enjoy themselves.

I use my real name most of the time online – amongst other things because my ‘online presence’ is part of my job, an because I make professional links and connections here – but I’m in a privileged position, without any of the obvious vulnerabilities. I’m a white, middle-class, middle-aged, educated, employed, able-bodied, heterosexual, married man. It’s easier for me to function online with my real name – but even I don’t always do so. Over the last decade or so I’ve used a number of pseudonyms, and still use one now. For many years my main online presence was as ‘SpiritualWolf’, prowling the football message boards: I’m a Wolves fan. I didn’t particularly want to connect what I was doing on the football boards with my work life or even my home life – and wanted my football postings to be judged for their content, not on the basis of who I might be. Online life works like that. I created ‘SpiritualWolf’ – but I also was SpiritualWolf. It wasn’t someone else’s name – it was my name.

Even now I used a pseudonym – KipperNick – when I play at being the BBC’s Nick Robinson, in his role as cheerleader for UKIP, a role which, sadly, he often plays better than me. It’s a very different kind of identity – a clearly marked parody account – but it allows me a certain kind of freedom, and lets me have some fun. I don’t use it maliciously – at least I don’t try to….

…and that, in the end, is the rub. It’s not the pseudonymity that’s the problem when we’re looking at malicious communications, for example: it’s the malice. By attacking the pseudonyms we’re not just missing the target we’re potentially shutting off a great deal of freedom, chilling speech and controlling people when that control is really unnecessary. I’m delighted that Facebook has begun to realise this – though I’ll believe it when I see it.

 

Thanks to the many people who replied to my initial tweet about this earlier today – I’ve shamelessly used your examples in the blog post!

What makes journalists special?

The news that the Sun were supporting an application to the European Court of Human Rights over the Met’s gathering of the communications data of the Sun’s political editor, was greeted with more than a few raised eyebrows. The levels of irony and hypocrisy here are almost magnificent in their chutzpah. The Sun, central to a Murdoch empire that has been mired in scandals over phone-tapping, furious at one of their own having his phone calls (and more, to be fair) looked at – the communications data surrounding them at least. The Sun, whose close links to the Met were a part of the whole scandal that brought about the Leveson Inquiry, calling the Met out for unethical procedure. The Sun, who just days before had been railing against the whole European Human Rights regime, and the court itself, trying to use those very rights to defend themselves.

Despite this, and despite my dislike of the Sun, I, and many others, would support the Sun in their action. Journalists do need protection from surveillance. They do need privacy. They do need to be able to protect their sources. As the Sun said:

“A free press is fundamental to all of our other freedoms. And to have a free press reporters need to be able to protect the identity of their sources.”

It’s a bold statement and one worth further examination. The role of the ‘free press’ can sometimes be understated, particularly when we look at the excesses of the current crop of tabloids. Anyone who followed the Leveson Inquiry knows quite how badly the press can and do behave. Desperate, despicable stuff at times – cruel, selfish, manipulative, voyeuristic, racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, divisive, misleading (or worse), doing their best to bring out the worst in people. Just plain nasty in so many ways – but that should not blind us to the importance of at least something of a free press. Without the press, things like the MPs expenses scandal would never have come to light. Without the press, Edward Snowden would have found it far harder to get his information out – and would have been far less likely to be believed. There are many more stories like this – too many to count.

So a free press is important – and for that reason, the press get privileges. They do get – and might well deserve, though more of that later – better protection for privacy and confidentiality. They get more access to information – through briefings from politicians and others or from ‘press-only’ events, through networks of sources and supporters and so forth. They have an audience that ‘ordinary’ people find it very difficult to reach. They have even had specific legal protections – against defamation, for example, in what used to be known as the ‘Reynolds Defence’, though since the Defamation Act 2013 came along, that has broadened a little so as to be potentially accessible to non-journalists.

All this has historically been entirely right and proper – but there’s something of a deal going on here. Why should journalists get special protection, above and beyond that of ordinary people? What makes the ‘professional’ journalist special – and different from that increasingly common species, the ‘citizen journalist’? What makes a columnist in a newspaper different from a blogger? The unspoken deal was, just as with lawyers and doctors (and even priests) who also make claim to special rules on confidentiality, journalists were bound by different ethics, and had been properly and professionally trained so they could be more trusted – at least to do things like protect their sources. Journalists get protection, and in turn they protect us – and they need to behave ethically in response. Just as lawyers and doctors have ethical guides (which they may or may not follow) press journalists have their own ethical guides. In the past, as far as UK press journalists were concerned, this was the Code of Practice of the Press Complaints Commission – what it is now is still up in the air, and the new regulator IPSO tries to assert itself whilst the supporters of the Royal Charter try to bring about implementation of the Leveson Report. Either way, most journalists would claim that they have ethics.

The real question, then, is whether they follow these ethics – because if they don’t, there’s far less to differentiate them from the rest of us. I write a blog, have had a few pieces published in magazines and on newspapers’ websites – am I a journalist? Should I have the same rights as journalists do? My suspicion is that the lines between ‘real’ journalists and ‘citizen’ journalists, bloggers and so forth will if anything get more blurred. There are already many people on the borderlines, many who sometimes act as journalists, other times as bloggers and so forth. Where does that leave journalistic ethics, and where does that leave journalistic protections for privacy, freedom of expression and so forth?

There are two very different possible approaches. One is to strip away journalistic protections – the other is to broaden them to cover the rest of us too. Personally, I much prefer the latter. Now that technology has given us the capacity to exercise our freedom of expression, the law should help protect our ability to do so. I may not be a journalist, but I do want confidentiality, and I think I have the right to it.

In the meantime, though, we should rally behind journalists in their fight against intrusion. We should, however, also expect them to understand the deal that is going on – and to understand that the pressure is on them to behave more ethically. The less ethically they behave, the less responsibly they behave, the harder it is to justify a special deal. One particularly painful story this week has made this point to me: the death of Brenda Leyland, the women accused of being a ‘Twitter Troll’ towards the parents of Madeleine McCann. This is a story that has almost nothing good to be said about it. What actually constitutes a ‘troll’ is subject to a great deal of doubt, and even if some kind of definition is settled upon, whether Brenda Leyland fits it is another matter. These are complex questions. For better or worse, the law has been getting increasingly involved in activity on social media, whether for malicious communications, bullying, public order offences or defamation – and as the number of people participating in social media has grown, the incidents have similarly grown.

I’m not in any way a defender of ‘trolling’ – but neither am I a supporter of ‘counter-trolling’. Trolling the trolls does go on – and on my Twitter timeline (I follow a lot of people) I’ve seen people make deeply passionate arguments both in favour of the McCanns and defending Brenda Leyland and others. I don’t want to get into that argument – other than to say that I don’t know what happened to Madeleine McCann, and I’m a believer in the presumption of innocence – but the actions of the press, and Sky News in particular, are another matter. We don’t necessarily expect ordinary people on Twitter to behave responsibly, let alone to a special, higher standard of ethics and responsibility. We should, however, have higher expectations of the press. That’s part of the deal. Was the doorstepping of Brenda Leyland appropriate, ethical or well considered? Was it necessary? I hope Sky News is considering these questions – because press ethics matter, just as protection of the press matters. We need a free press – but we need a responsible press too.

 

UPDATED TO MAKE CLEAR THAT IT WAS TOM NEWTON DUNN’S COMMS DATA GATHERED BY THE POLICE, NOT HIS CALLS LISTENED TO.

The Ballad of Google Spain

For National Poetry Day, with apologies to anyone with any sense of poetry….

 

There was a case, called ‘Google Spain’

That caused us all no end of pain

Do we have a right to be forgotten?

Are Google’s profits a touch ill-gotten?

 

From over the pond came shouts of ‘Free Speech!’

So loud and so shrill they were almost a screech

From the ECJ came a bit of a gloat

‘We’ve got that Google by the throat!’

 

Said Google “If it’s games you play”

“We’ll do that too, all night and day”

So they blocked and blocked, and told the press

“It’s that evil court, we’re so distressed”

 

“Such censorship,” they cried and cried

Though ’twas themselves who did the deeds

They didn’t need to block the links

They were just engaging in hijinks

 

And many stood beside them proudly

Shouting ‘freedom’, oh so loudly

‘Google is our free-speech hero!’

‘We’ll fight with them, let’s be clear-oh!’

 

Others watched and raised their eyebrows

Listening wryly to these vows

And thought ‘is Google really pure?’

‘From what we’ve seen, we’re far less sure.’

 

For Google blocks all kinds of sites

‘Specially for those with copyright

And, you know, this isn’t funny,

When blocking things will make them money

 

This isn’t just about free speech

No matter how much Google preach

What matters here is really power

Is this truly Google’s hour?

 

Does Google have complete control

Or do the law courts have a role?

Time will tell – but on the way

Our privacy will have to pay…

 

 

 

 

 

 

Censorship and surveillance…

Today’s ‘Internet Injunctions’ case in the high court (Cartier vs BSkyB) highlights one of the inherent problems with the kind of ‘porn-blocking’ censorship system that the current government has effectively forced ISPs to comply with: when you build a censorship system for one purpose, you can be pretty certain that it will be used for other purposes. As David Allen Green, who tweets as @JackofKent described it today:

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I’ve argued this before – it’s question five in my ‘10 Questions about Cameron’s ‘new’ porn-blocking‘, but here it is in action, being argued in court. It was inevitable that it was going to be argued. Though people tend to deny it, ‘function creep’ or ‘mission creep’ is a reality, not a dream of the paranoid tin-foil hat brigade.

It’s not an argument restricted to censorship systems – the same applies to surveillance, and should remind us of the links between the two, and the need to oppose both. Just as advocates of censorship start with child-abuse imagery and then move on through ‘ordinary’ porn to other kinds of ‘offensive’ material, and then to copyright infringement, advocates of surveillance start with catching terrorists and paedophiles, through catching more ‘ordinary’ criminals, to finding people who are ‘offensive’ in some other way, through to those suspected (and it is generally based on suspicion, not proof) of infringing copyright. And from there, who knows where?

The links between surveillance and censorship are strong and multifaceted – though the motivation, in the end, is the same: control over people and restriction of freedom. Surveillance can be used to support censorship – watch everyone to see where they’re going, what they’re watching and reading, who they’re meeting, so that you can shut down their websites, close their meetings, track down the people they’re listening to, and so forth. Censorship can be used to support surveillance – particularly with things like the current ‘opt-out’ internet filters, where if you opt-out of censorship, that automatically makes you suspicious, and a target for surveillance. Anyone using a pseudonym, or trying to be anonymous, is already marked down as suspicious – anyone using TOR or an equivalent, for example.

This is one of the many reasons we should reject both censorship and surveillance. We should understand that the two are linked – and that there are slippery slopes associated with both. And they really are slippery, as today’s case in the High Court should help us to see.

For more details of the case, see David Allen Green’s piece for the Open Rights Group here, and the Open Rights Group press release here.

The right be forgotten roadshow – and the power of Google.

Screen Shot 2014-09-16 at 20.39.49I read with interest Professor Luciano Floridi’s report from the first two legs of what the Guardian described as ‘Google’s privacy ethics tour of Europe’. Floridi is Professor of Philosophy and Ethics of Information at the Oxford Internet Institute, and one of the experts appointed by Google to its ‘Advisory Council’ on the right to be forgotten.

As would be expected from such an expert, it is a well crafted report and explains very well some of the key ethical questions being addressed through this public consultation. As Floridi puts it:

“The two words most frequently used by all participants in the meetings were “complex” and “balance”, and they describe the situation well. The debate is complex because there are many elements interacting with each other.

The actual ruling, with its pro and contra, including its inconsistency with the advocate-general’s opinion; the role of search engines as intermediaries or data controllers; the difference between availability and accessibility of information online; the so-called rights (to be forgotten, to information), the real rights behind them (privacy and freedom of expression), and the ways in which they are interpreted on the two sides of the Atlantic; the concepts of relevance and of public interest, both very slippery; the procedural uncertainty about who should decide which links are rightfully removed and who should be informed about it.”

There is one element, however, conspicuous by its absence from Floridi’s analysis: a consideration of the power of Google. That power is considerable, and wielded in many different ways. Indeed, it could be said that the power of Google is at the heart of the whole debate over the right to be forgotten, and without taking it properly into account it will be impossible to come to sensible, practical and effective conclusions over how to deal with the right to be forgotten.

Power over what is found – and not found

The reason behind the Google Spain ruling, to start with, was connected with the power that Google wields: ‘Googling’ someone is probably the most important way to find out information about a person. The Spanish man about whom the ruling was concerned felt that when he was Googled the information was misleading and unfair. Google is at the heart of things: how they set their algorithms, how they index the web, what they include and exclude, what they rate highly – and what they rate as insignificant – matters in ways that are often hugely underestimated. And yet, if you read a lot of commentary – even the expert commentary of Professor Floridi – it seems as though Google are a mere conduit, their algorithm organic and their results generated purely in the interests of freedom of expression. If it’s interesting and relevant, those algorithms will find it for you. Google, in this view, are a purely neutral organisation, providing a service to the planet.

That’s a deeply naive assumption. Google is a business – and like all businesses, its bottom line is the bottom line. Google will do what is best for Google as a business. That may often turn out to be what serves freedom of expression best – if we can’t find what we need to find by using Google, we’ll find another way – but sometimes it won’t be. Google takes down masses of links on the basis of copyright claims – because its interests are best served by complying with the law of copyright and by keeping cordial relations with the rights-holders. That’s an infringement of freedom of expression – but in the eyes of the law and the eyes of Google, an acceptable one. Google doesn’t link to child abuse images – and quite rightly so – but that’s also an infringement of freedom of expression. Google complies with local laws and other considerations as and when Google finds it appropriate to do so – and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that approach. Indeed, it’s an entirely appropriate approach – but it means that casting Google as the great champion of freedom of expression is only telling part of the story.

Power to set the agenda

The second aspect of power that needs to be taken into account is Google’s power to control the process and indeed to set the agenda. This whole roadshow was set up by Google – the advisory council was set up by Google, where they visit and when, who is called to give evidence, what the agenda of their meetings are and so forth is all, directly or indirectly controlled by Google. Again, there’s nothing wrong with this, and in some ways it’s entirely appropriate, but it does mean that it should be viewed in that context. This isn’t some neutral, independent body making an academic analysis of the ethics of the right to be forgotten – it’s a Google appointed body, somewhat akin to a board of trustees, taking soundings on Google’s terms. They wouldn’t have been appointed if they weren’t either predisposed to be on Google’s side, or at least seen to be malleable. It also reflects an apparent tactic that Google has employed in the internet governance and regulation space more generally. By giving individuals with high personal reputation positions of importance, flying them on private jets, and generally treating them like royalty, Google creates powerful external allies. Google’s eight experts are already acting in some ways as though they were more expert than the DPAs and other European organs: it gives Google a chance to blend its choices between the best of a set of alternatives. The DPAs do, at least, appear to have noticed this.

Google seems to have been setting the agenda over the reporting of the right to be forgotten since the day it came out – many (including myself) have wondered whether Google has been deliberately overreacting to the ruling, deleting links to stories when they really didn’t have to, to try to make the ruling look ridiculous. Those stories began very shortly after the ruling, but they continue to this day – the most recent being the story that links to a positive story about an artist being removed seemingly at the artist’s desire. It’s a deeply unconvincing story, and generally couched in terms that misunderstand the ruling. Suggestions that Google was ‘forced’ to remove the link are quite wrong: a request is made, and then Google can decide to delete or not to delete – deletions being if the information is old or irrelevant – and if they choose not to, the requester can either take legal action or ask the data protection authority to adjudicated. Even in the Guardian, which really should know better, it was suggested that “Google was required to enact the court’s decision”. No. Google was not required to do so. They could, and on the face of it they should, have refused to do so. If they were really the guardians of freedom of expression, they would have – but there are wheels within wheels here, and making the ruling look ridiculous seems, again, at least on the face of it, to matter more to them.

Power in other ways

Google’s immense resources mean that it can wield its power in many more ways. Lobbying, both open and hidden, is a big deal – the amount of effort put into shaping the reform of the data protection regime so it suits Google better has been colossal. Current and ex-Googlers are now in the House of Lords (Joanna Shields, appointed by David Cameron in August, used to run Google’s Europe division) and in the White House (Megan Smith, Google VP for Development is Obama’s new Chief Technology Officer and senior technology advisor, appointed earlier this month). Google provides funding to think tanks, and to academic organisations – indeed, they’re one of the biggest funders in these areas. Though this funding is given without strings attached, it is hard not to feel that there is at least some influence on the subjects that are researched, and the terms on which they are researched. No-one bites the hand that feeds them without at least thinking about it. Google has a critical role to play in how technology functions, how businesses function – and in how the media functions. The media in particular sometimes seems far less critical of Google than it might be – except in terms of its taxation policies.

None of this should detract from the way that Google does provide great products – and that things like its search engine do provide a huge amount of help for freedom of expression and so forth. That, however, should not prevent us from seeing the impact of the power that it wields – and taking that power into account when looking at things like privacy and freedom of expression. When trying, as Professor Floridi says, to find the right balance, with all those complex factors to deal with, that power must be taken into account. If it isn’t, that balance will never be found.

 

 

 

Who needs privacy? All of us….

A couple of privacy stories have been making big news over the last few days. The first is the ‘celebrity photo’ saga – naked photos of Jennifer Lawrence and others have been ‘leaked’ onto the net. The second is the revelation that the Metropolitan Police obtained the telephone records of Tom Newton Dunn, the political editor of the Sun, in connection with the ‘Plebgate’ saga. Between them, the two stories highlight some of the ways in which privacy matters – and at the same time some of the misunderstandings, some of the hypocrisy, and some of the complexity of privacy.

Celebrities and privacy

The relationship between celebrities and privacy is a complex one. At one level – the level usually argued by the press (including the Sun) – celebrities have less of a right to privacy than the rest of us. After all, they put themselves in the public eye. They open their doors to the likes of Hello magazine – and they make millions from us, from our attention, so doesn’t that mean they have to sacrifice a bit of their privacy to us? The put themselves in the public eye – doesn’t that mean their lives are ‘public’, and drawing attention to them is in the ‘public interest’? This brings into play the classic question of what the difference is between what ‘interests the public’ and what is ‘in the public interest’. They’re certainly not identical – but there is a degree of fuzziness at times.

At another level – the level argued by the celebrities themselves – celebrities need more protection, and if not a stronger right of privacy then a stronger way to enforce that right than the rest of us. After all, celebrities are more likely to have their private lives intruded upon by the press. Paparazzi will point their long lenses into celebrity houses, pursue celebrities down the street, rifle through celebrities’ dustbins, much more than they will for the rest of us. A naked picture of Jennifer Lawrence will get a lot more clicks on the net than a naked picture of a ‘non-celebrity’. The phone hacking saga (of which more later) is just one example – and it’s no coincidence that many of those at the forefront of the campaign to implement the Leveson report are celebrities such as Hugh Grant and Steve Coogan.

There’s strength in both perspectives – and as both are regularly argued by people who are both articulate and very ‘media-savvy’ it is often hard to navigate between them. The courts try – but all too often, whatever they decide is damned by one side or the other.

The Press and Privacy

The Sun are justifiably angry about the revelation that their political editor’s phone records have been accessed by the Metropolitan Police – not least because the story being investigated actually concerned the activities of the police. There are conflicts of interest all over the place here – but also a much bigger point.

For the press to function well, it needs to have privacy. That is, it needs to be possible for the press to keep its sources secret, to protect those people who reveal the key information. If they can’t protect their sources, there’s a very direct chilling effect – people who might come forward with information will be afraid to do so, so that information will never be uncovered, and all kinds of stories that are very much in the public interest will never see the light of day. Members of the press need to have confidentiality – so that they are able to do their job, a critical job in holding the powerful to account. That means the police and the politicians for a start.

Hypocrisy and Privacy

And yet, the stench of hypocrisy is almost overwhelming here. This is the Sun, getting outraged about a breach in privacy. The same Sun who were part of the phone hacking saga, who regularly invade the privacy of all and sundry – celebrities are just one example – often claiming it is in the public interest, but still invading privacy.  The same Sun who were part of an often vicious onslaught on the Guardian in connection with the Snowden revelations. The Sun who often seem to operate as though no-one has any right to privacy – except their own journalists.

This kind of hypocrisy is matched by that of some of the hackers and champions of internet freedom who feel it’s OK to obtain and then release, gleefully, naked pictures of Jennifer Lawrence. Some seem to want their own anonymity and privacy, and think the NSA and GCHQ are nightmarish oppressors – but think that Jennifer Lawrence only has herself to blame for even having those photographs in the first place.

It’s a sadly common set of double standards – privacy doesn’t seem very important, indeed it often seems like something bad (‘privacy is for paedos’, in the words of Paul McMullan, former News of the World journalist) until it has an impact on you. The Sun’s outrage is particularly hypocritical, but at times almost all of us are guilty of it.

We all need privacy

The truth, at least as I see it, is that we all need privacy. We all need our privacy protected – and invasions of privacy should never be done lightly, without a thought for the consequences. Jennifer Lawrence – and all of us – should be able to take whatever photos we want of ourselves, however intimate. Members of the press should be able to communicate safely and securely with their sources. And we, ordinary people, should be able to go on with our ordinary lives without fear of their being exposed. Our lives aren’t any less important than those of celebrities or the press – and though the impact of privacy invasions on our ordinary lives may not be as earth shattering or newsworthy as those of celebrities, politicians and so forth, to us they matter. The revelation that NSA operatives thought looking at nude and sexual photos found by surveillance was fun, and sharing them with colleagues was just a perk of the job should repel us.

There are many other ways that invasions of our privacy have an impact upon us – things like affecting our job prospects, our insurance premiums, our credit ratings, our relationships – but there’s a bigger point here. These are our lives. This is part of our human dignity. Privacy is part of that, and it matters.  We should try to remember that for other people – and celebrities are people too.

Wikipedia and the Right to be Forgotten…

…or why Jimmy Wales might want to support a right to delete.

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One of the more strident critics of the Google Spain ruling by the ECJ, bringing into action at least a form of the much derided ‘right to be forgotten’, has been Jimmy Wales, co-founder of Wikipedia. He has spoken and written about it in highly critical terms, calling it ‘one of the most wide-sweeping internet censorship rulings that I’ve ever seen’ and, since Wikipedia itself started receiving notifications, ‘completely insane’. His statements, amplified by the obliging British press, were followed by his appointment to Google’s advisory committee on implementation of the court’s ruling. He has so far stood firmly by Google’s side, and against the ECJ – and yet, if looked at from the perspective of ‘openness’, there are arguments that he should shift his position. The so-called right to be forgotten – in some forms at least – is far from incompatible with the principles of openness that underpin Wikipedia. Indeed, it can be argued to be supportive of those principles – or even necessary to produce more openness in the way the internet operates for most ordinary people.

Wikipedia and ‘openness’

Wikipedia is viewed by many as the epitome of the new(ish) idea of ‘openness’ (e.g. http://www.theguardian.com/technology/2014/aug/10/wikipedia-isnt-perfect-model-channel-4-government) . Crowdsourcing information, allowing edits by anyone. Words like ‘participatory’, ‘collaborative’, even ‘democratic’ are used to describe it – indeed, it’s often used as an example of what those terms mean. These are words that are almost always used positively: participation, collaboration and democracy are seen as fundamentally ‘good’ things. Specifically, they’re seen as good things in relation to the internet: the fight for an ‘open’ and ‘free’ internet, a fight which the Wikimedia Foundation often seems to see itself at the forefront of, is a fight for the sort of internet built around participation, collaboration and openness.

But what does that mean in practice? Take a look at Wikipedia. As a teacher of university students, I often discuss the use of Wikipedia for research. In the old days, universities frowned on the use of Wikipedia – and we generally still disapprove of its use as a primary source (a citation of a Wikipedia page will raise both eyebrows and hackles in any university teacher) – but now it is usually seen as something very useful. You can get a broad brush view of a subject from reading the Wikipedia page – and you can find links to better, more reliable information about the subject. You don’t cite the Wikipedia page, but you can find sources that you can cite by looking at the Wikipedia page.

This all comes from both the strength and the weakness of Wikipedia. It is generally reliable – because crowdsourcing works, and because people with an intimate knowledge of all the various subjects contribute to it – but it is also, and just as importantly, ever-changing. It changes as events develop – new information appears, new views come in and, crucially, errors are corrected, biases revealed and changes made. Inaccurate and out of date information – and irrelevant information – is corrected or deleted from Wikipedia pages.

Deletion of information…

Let me repeat that.

Inaccurate, out of date and irrelevant information is corrected or deleted from Wikipedia pages.

That’s the strength of Wikipedia. Indeed, it is a key virtue of digital publishing – it is dynamic, not static. When errors creep in – whether by accident, by error, by biased editing, by malice (and cases of falsification of Wikipedia pages are well known, as are the strong and consistent critiques of both Wales and Wikipedia) the openness of the Wikipedia platform means that those errors, those biases, and so forth are open to being corrected. Information is deleted. That’s what makes Wikipedia great – and also what shapes the way we use it. We know Wikipedia isn’t set in stone, and that at any particular moment it may include errors or misunderstandings. We know that, so we don’t treat it with undue reverence. We check what we see against other sources. We look for alternative views and compare them to what we see on Wikipedia. We sometimes even help to edit Wikipedia. We treat Wikipedia as ‘organic’, growing and changing all the time.

Treating the internet as ‘organic’

Isn’t it appropriate – and desirable – to treat the whole internet in the same, open way? As organic, growing and changing all the time? Why should other material in the free floating internet be treated as inviolable; privileged by virtue of their form, if we are happy to see it otherwise with Wikipedia? In many ways we know that this is how the internet really is anyway – we know that when we look at a page we need to consider who created it, what sort of people they are, what biases they might have and so on. We know that new material is appearing all the time – every blog post, every newspaper article, every uploaded photo – and we should also understand that other material is being deleted or edited every day. Old, irrelevant or inaccurate information disappears every day. That’s part of the process – life and death are part of the same cycle.

What the internet isn’t, is a perfect archive of truth, set in stone as a record of perfect accuracy. To evoke otherwise, as Wales and the Wikimedia foundation have done, is simply false. It isn’t Asimov’s vision (deliberately misleading) of an Encyclopaedia Galactica in his seminal ‘Foundation’ books, designed to preserve and maintain humanity’s store of knowledge against barbarians and the decline of civilisation. It’s much closer to the reality of Wikipedia. Somewhere were things are being deleted all the time. Somewhere where routes to things are being corrected all the time. Somewhere that should be treated with respect but not reverence.

The right to delete – or the right to be forgotten

That’s where a right to delete – and yes, sometimes, a right to be forgotten fits in. It’s not such a big deal, really – things get deleted and forgotten all the time on the internet. Eric Schmidt and Jimmy Wales’ things, too. The right to be forgotten is just one of many mechanisms through which such deletions might take place. Almost completely overlooked in the media coverage, and the runaway notion that this is a ‘right for the rich and famous’ is the fact that already people with resources and knowledge use ‘reputation management’ services to hunt down and remove uncomplimentary things about them. Already ‘rights holders’ use copyright law to have things that breach their rights removed from the net – and routes to them removed, obscured or deleted. Already companies choose to cleanse old websites, to rebrand themselves and so forth. The right to be forgotten – both in its ‘Google Spain’ form and in a purer deletion of data form – would be just one of many tools through which the internet changes form. That constant changing should be understood and celebrated – and refined not fought and feared. It’s part of what makes the internet so great.

That doesn’t, of course, mean that it shouldn’t be treated critically. It should, very much so. It doesn’t mean that the Google Spain ruling is without fault – it isn’t, and the way that Google has implemented it to date has highlighted many of those faults. And yes, it’s a tool that could well be misused – most tools are, but we don’t outlaw kitchen knives because they could be used to stab people. For ordinary people, in extraordinary circumstances, it could be a real boon. Ordinary people need to be given a chance to contribute, to participate, to be part of that great community that so many of us hope the internet can become. Of course we need to find a way to make it work better. We need to set out more appropriate rules and good, solid guidelines as to how it should be operated – and to reduce the possibility of its misuse. We need all of this, both to help Google and to keep the internet open….

…because that’s the bottom line. Having ways to delete information isn’t the enemy of the internet of the people, so much as an enemy of the big players of the internet. In terms of the ordinary people, it’s very much the internet’s friend. Wikipedia demonstrates the need to have deletion and correction as well as addition as part of its toolkit. Jimmy Wales knows this, I suspect, though I’m not sure he’s applied this knowledge to the internet as a whole. He may not like the way that this particular tool has been developed – for judges and courts are often seen as the enemies of openness, and from an America perspective, European judges and courts may be the worst of all. Nobody wants to be told what to do – and often they’re quite right to resist what they’re told to do.

However, an excessive faith in the ‘record’ of the internet, and an excessive reverence for the way that the internet (and Google in particular) currently works are also enemies of real openness. We need to be open to changes – and yes, even changes in all of these.

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This blog post was inspired in part by reading Nathaniel Tkacz’s work on Openness.

Dave Eggers’ The Circle: a book for our times…

I was introduced to Dave Eggers’ novel, The Circle, by Professor Andrew Murray – one of the pre-eminent scholars in IT Law in the UK, and also on of my PhD supervisors. I know I’m very late to this game – the book came out in 2013, and all the cool people will already have read it or reviewed it, but in this case I think it’s worth it. And the fact that someone like Andrew Murray would recommend it should give pause for thought: this isn’t just an entertaining piece of science fiction, it’s a book that really makes you think. It’s not just a dystopian vision of the future, it’s one that is far, far closer to reality than almost any I’ve read – and dystopian novels and films are pretty much my favourite genre.

It’s a book that reminded me why, unlike most of my schoolmates, I always preferred Brave New World to 1984 – and why, of the various privacy stories of the last few months I suspect, ultimately, the Facebook Experiment and the ruling over the Right to be Forgotten will matter more than the passing of the deeply depressing DRIP. In the end, as The Circle demonstrates graphically, we have more to fear from corporate domination of the Internet than we do from all the spooks and law enforcement agencies.

The Circle from which the novel gets its name is a technology company that combines a great deal of Google and Facebook with a little dash of Apple and a touch of Twitter. It dominates search and social media, but also makes cool and functional hardware. Egger’s triumph in the Circle is that he really gets not just the tech but the culture that surrounds it – little details like sending frowns to paramilitaries in Guatemala echo campaigns like #BringBackOurGirls in their futility, superficiality and ultimate inanity. The lives portrayed in the Circle should send shivers down the spines of any of us who spend much time on Twitter or Facebook: that I read the book whilst on a holiday without much Internet access made the point to me most graphically.

Privacy is theft

Eggers echoes both 1984 and Brave New World in using slogans to encapsulate concepts – exaggerating to make the point. For the Circle, these are:

Secrets are lies
Sharing is caring
Privacy is theft

All three are linked together – and connected to the idea that there’s something almost mystical about data. We don’t just have no right to privacy, we have a duty to disclose, a duty to be transparent. A failure to disclose means we’re depriving others of the benefits of our information: by claiming privacy, we’re stealing opportunities and advantages that others have the right to. If we care about others, we should share with them. This is Facebook, this is Google Flu Trends – and it’s the philosophy that implies that those of us who oppose the care.data scheme through which all our health data will be shared with researchers, pharmaceutical companies and many others, are selfish Luddites likely to be responsible for the deaths of thousands.

It is also the philosophy behind a lot of the opposition to the right to be forgotten. That opposition is based on the myth – one that Eggers exposes excellently – that the records on the Internet represent ‘the truth’ and that tampering with them, let alone deleting anything from them, is tantamount to criminality. Without spoiling the plot too much, one of the characters is psychologically and almost physically destroyed by the consequences of that. Eggers neatly leaves it unclear whether the key ‘facts’ that do the damage are actually real – he knows that this, ultimately, isn’t the point. Even if it all were true, the idea that maintaining it and exposing it would be a general good, something to be encouraged and fought for, is misguided at best.

It’s about power – and how it’s wielded

In the novel, The Circle has the power – and it wields it in many ways. Emotional manipulation, keeping people happy and at the same time keeping them within the Circle, is the key point – and the echoes of the Facebook Experiment, about which much has been written, but much has missed the deeper points, are chilling here. One of the real functions of the experiment was for Facebook to find ways to keep people using Facebook…

Another of the key ways that the Circle wields power is through its influence over lawmakers – and the same is sadly evident of Google and Facebook, in the UK as much as in the US. In the UK in particular the influence over things like opposition to data protection reform – and the right to be forgotten – are all too clear. It would be great if this could change, but as in the novel, the powers and common interests are far too strong for much chance. More’s the pity.

As a novel, The Circle is not without fault. I guessed the main plot twist less than half-way through the book. There’s a good deal of hyperbole – but this is dystopian fiction, after all – and the tech itself is not exactly described convincingly. What’s more, the prose is far from beautiful, the characters are mostly rather two-dimensional, and often they’re used primarily to allow Eggers to make his points, often through what amount to set speeches – but Huxley was guilty of that from time to time too. Those speeches, however, are often worth reading. Here, one of the dissidents explains his objections:

“It’s the usual utopian vision. This time they were saying it’ll reduce waste. If stores know what their customers want, then they don’t overproduce, don’t overship, don’t have to throw stuff away when it’s not bought. I mean, like everything else you guys are pushing, it sounds perfect, sounds progressive, but it carries with it more control, more central tracking of everything we do.”

“Mercer, the Circle is a group of people like me. Are you saying that somehow we’re all in a room somewhere, watching you, planning world domination?”

“No. First of all, I know it’s all people like you. Individually you don’t know what you’re doing collectively. But secondly, don’t presume the benevolence of your leaders.”

In that brief exchange Eggers shows how well he gets the point. A little later he nails why we should care much more about this but don’t, focussing instead on the spooks of the NSA and GCHQ.

“Here, though, there are no oppressors. No one’s forcing you to do this. You willingly tie yourself to these leashes.”

That’s the problem. We don’t seem to see the risk – indeed, just as in the novel, we willingly seem to embrace the very things that damage us. Lawmakers, too, seem not to see the problem – and as noted all too often allow themselves to be lobbied into compliance. The success of Google’s lobbyists over the right to be forgotten is testimony to this. Even now, people who really should know better are being persuaded to support the Circle sorry, I mean Google’s business model rather than address a real, important privacy issue.

Coming to a society near you…

We’re taking more and more steps in the direction of the Circle. Not just the Facebook experiment and the reaction to the ‘right to be forgotten’ ruling – but even in the last week or two a House of Lords committee has recommended an end to online anonymity, effectively asking service providers to require real names before receiving services. This is one of the central planks of the way the Circle takes control over people’s lives, and one which our lawmakers seem to be very happy to give them. There are also stories going around about government plans to integrate various databases from health and the DVLA to criminal records… another key tenet of the Circle‘s plans… The ‘detailed’ reasons for doing so sound and seem compelling – but the ultimate consequences could be disastrous…

Anyway, that’s enough from me. Read the book. I’ll be recommending it to
my Internet Law and Privacy students, but I hope it’s read much more widely than that. It deserves to be.

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Facebook, Google and the little people….

This last week has emphasised the sheer power and influence of the internet giants – Facebook and Google in particular.

The Facebook Experiment

First we had the furore over the so-called ‘Facebook Experiment’ – the revelation that Facebook had undertaken an exercise in ’emotional contagion’, effectively trying to manipulate the emotions of nearly 700,000 of its users without their consent, knowledge or understanding. There were many issues surrounding it (some of which I’ve written about here) starting with the ethics of the study itself, but the most important thing to understand is that the experiment succeeded, albeit not very dramatically. That is, by manipulating people’s news feeds, Facebook found that they were able to manipulate peoples emotions. However you look at the ethics of this, that’s a significant amount of power.

Google and the Right to be Forgotten

Then we’ve had the excitement over Google’s ‘clumsy’ implementation of the ECJ ruling in the Google Spain case. I’ve speculated before about Google’s motivations in implementing the ruling so messily, but regardless of their motivations the story should have reminded us of the immense power that Google have over how we use the internet. This power is demonstrated in a number of ways. Firstly, in the importance we place in whether a story can be found through Google – those who talk about the Google Spain ruling being tantamount to censorship are implicitly recognising the critical role that Google plays and hence the immense power that they wield. Secondly, it has demonstrated Google’s power in that, ultimately, how Google decides to interpret and implement the ruling of the court is what decides whether we can or cannot find a story. Thirdly, the way that Google seems to be able to drive the media agenda has been apparent: it sometimes seems as though people in the media are dancing to Google’s tune.

Further, though the early figures for takedown requests under the right to be forgotten sound large – 240,000 since the Google Spain ruling – the number of requests they deal with based on copyright is far higher: 42,324,954 since the decision. Right to be forgotten requests are only 0.5% of those under copyright. Google deals with these requests without the fanfare of the right to be forgotten – and apart from a few internet freedom advocates, very few people seem to even notice. Google has that much control, and their decisions have a huge impact upon us.

Giants vs. Little People

Though the two issues seem to have very little in common, they both reflect the huge power that the internet giants have over ordinary people. It is very hard for ordinary people to fight for their rights – for little people to be able to face up to giants. Little people, therefore, have to do two things: use every tool they can in the fight for their rights, and support each other when that support is needed. When the little people work together, they can punch above their weight. One of the best ways for this to happen, is through civil society organisations. All around the world, civil society organisations make a real difference – from the Open Rights Group and Privacy International in the UK to EDRi in Europe and the EFF in the US. One of the very best of these groups – and one that punches the most above its weight, has been Digital Rights Ireland. They played a critical role in one of the most important legal ‘wins’ for privacy in recent years: the effective defeat of the Data Retention Directive, one of the legal justifications for mass surveillance. They’re a small organisation, but one with expertise and a willingness to take on the giants. Given that so many of those giants – including Facebook – are officially based in Ireland, Digital Rights Ireland are especially important.

Europe vs. Facebook

There is one particular conflict between the little people and the giants that is currently in flux: the ongoing legal fight between campaigner Max Schrems and Facebook. Schrems, who is behind the ‘Europe vs. Facebook’ campaign,  has done brilliantly so far, but his case appears to be at risk. After what looked like an excellent result – the referral by the Irish High Court to the ECJ of his case against Facebook (which relates to the vulnerability of Facebook data to US surveillance via the PRISM program) – Schrems is reported as considering abandoning his case, as the possible costs might bankrupt him if things go badly.

This would be a real disaster – and not just for Schrems. This case really matters in a lot of ways. The internet giants need to know that we little people can take them on: if costs can put us off, the giants will be able to use their huge financial muscle to win every time. It’s a pivotal case – for all of us. For Europeans, it matters in protecting our data from US surveillance. For non Europeans it matters, because it challenges the US giants at a critical point – we all need them to fight against US surveillance, and they’ll only really do that wholeheartedly if it matters to their bottom line. This case could seriously hit Facebook’s bottom line – so if they lost, they’d have to do something to protect their data from US surveillance. They wouldn’t just do that for European Facebook users, they’d do it for all.

Referral to the ECJ is critical, not just because it might give a chance to win, but because (as I’ve blogged before) recently the ECJ has shown more engagement with technological issues and more willingness to rule in favour of privacy – as in the aforementioned invalidation of the Data Retention Directive and in the contentious ruling in Google Spain. We little people need to take advantage of those times when the momentum is on our side – and right now, at least in some ways, the momentum seems to be with us in the eyes of the ECJ.

So what can be done to help Schrems? Well, the first thing I would suggest to Max is to involve Digital Rights Ireland. They could really help him – and I understand that they’ve been seeking an amicus brief in the case. They’re good at this kind of thing, and they and other organizations in Europe have experience in raising the funds for this type of case. Max has done brilliant work, but where ‘little people’ have to face up to giants, they’re much better off not fighting alone.

A week not to be forgotten….

…for those of us interested in the right to be forgotten. I’ve found myself writing and talking to people about it unlike any time before. Privacy is becoming bigger and bigger news – and I have a strong feeling that the Snowden revelations influenced the thinking of the ECJ in last week’s ruling, subconsciously if nothing else. That should not be viewed as a bad thing – quite the opposite. What we have learned through Edward Snowden’s information should have been a wake-up call for everyone. Privacy matters – and the links between the commercial gathering and holding of data and the kind of surveillance done by the authorities are complex and manifold. If we care about privacy in relation to anyone – the authorities, businesses, other individuals, advertisers, employers, criminals etc – then we need to build a more privacy-friendly infrastructure that protects us from all of these. That means thinking more deeply, and considering more radical options – and yes, that even means the right to be forgotten, for all its flaws, risks and complications. More thought is needed, and more action – and we must understand the sources of information here, the nature of those contributing to the debate and so forth.

Anyway, this isn’t a ‘real’ blog post about the subject – I’ve done enough of them in the last week. What I want to do here is provide links to what I’ve written and said in the last week, as well as to my academic contributions to the subject, both past and present, and then to link to Julia Powles’ excellent curation of the academic blogs and articles written by many people in the aftermath of the judgment.

Here’s what I’ve written:

For CNN, a summary of the judgment and its implications, written the same day as the judgment.

For the Justice Gap, a day later, looking at the judgment in context and asking whether it was a ‘good’ or a ‘bad’ thing for internet freedom.

My interview for CBC (Canada)’s Day 6 programme – talking about the implications, and examining the right for a non-European audience.

For my own blog, looking at Google’s options for the future and suggesting that the judgment isn’t the end of the world

Also for my own blog, a day later, trying to put the judgment into context – it’s not about paedophiles and politicians, and it won’t be either a triumph or a disaster.

This last piece may in some ways be the most important – because already there’s a huge about of hype being built up, and scare stories are being leaked to the media at a suspiciously fast rate. There are huge lobbies at play here, particularly from the ‘big players’ on the internet like Google, who will face significant disruption and significant costs as a result of the ruling, and seem to want to make sure that people view the conflict as one of principle, rather than one of business. People will rally behind a call to defend freedom of expression much more easily than they will behind a call to defend Google’s right to make money, particularly given Google’s taxation policies.

Then here are my academic pieces on the subject.

‘A right to delete?’ from 2011, for the European Journal of Law and Technology. This is an open access piece, suggesting a different approach.

‘The EU, the US and the Right to be Forgotten’, published in early 2014, a chapter in a Springer Book on data protection reform, arising from the CPDP conference in Brussels 2013. This, unfortunately, is not open access, but a chapter in an expensive book. This does, however, deal directly with some of the lobbying issues.

The right to be forgotten – and my particular take on it, the right to delete, is also discussed at length in my recently released book, Internet Privacy Rights. There’s a whole chapter on the subject, and it’s part of the general theme.

Finally, here’s a link to Julia Powles’ curation of the topic. This is really helpful – a list of what’s been written by academics over the last week or so, with a brief summary of each piece and a link to it. Some of the academics contributing are from the very top of the field,  including Viktor Mayer-Schönberger, Daniel Solove and Jonathan Zittrain. All the pieces are worth a read.

This subject is far from clear cut, and the debate will continue on, in a pretty heated form I suspect, for quite some time. Probably the best thing that could come out of it, in my opinion, is some more impetus for the completion of the data protection reform in the EU. This reform has been struggling on for some years, stymied amongst other things by intense lobbying  by Google and others. That lobbying will have to change tack pretty quickly: it’s no longer in Google’s interests for the reform to be delayed. If they want to have a more ‘practical’ version of the right to be forgotten in action, the best way is to be helpful rather than obstructive in the reform of the data protection regime. A new regime, with a well balanced version of the right incorporated, would be in almost everyone’s best interests.