AI & Ethical Determinism

Photo by moipokupkigmailcom.

As artificial intelligence (AI) moves from the realm of science fiction to everyday science, leading  technologists and scientists are asking themselves questions about how to write an ethical code. The most widely reported ethical dilemma involves the self-driving automobile and what’s known as the Trolley Problem.  This hypothetical challenge asks whether or not you would make the decision to divert a speeding train from one track to another knowing that doing so will kill one person but save the lives of several others.

This problem is transposed to the world of driverless vehicles and how a car’s AI should make split-second, life-and-death decisions. It’s a challenge that doesn’t just raise technological or ethical questions, but psychological ones as well.  Because the ways in which we cope with tragedy—or the anticipation of potential tragedy—in modern, developed society does not generally encompass the kind of determinism implied by AI.

Many cope with tragic accidents through faith—a belief that there is a deity with a plan, even if that plan cannot be known.  Those of us who are not religious cope without faith in a plan—by making peace with the fact that chaos and human fallibility can produce terrible outcomes.  In either case, there is a degree of comfort in the uncertainty—not comfort that lessens the pain of loss per se, but comfort that enables us to rationalize terrible events or to step outside the door without living in abject fear.  The uncertainty coupled with probability, and maintaining a measure of control, allows us to confidently get into our cars and drive around without expecting to be wiped out.  Remove a factor, for instance the measure of control, and this likely explains why more people are anxious about flying than riding in cars despite the statistics proving that the opposite should be true.

In this regard, when the unforeseen event occurs—brakes fail, an obstacle suddenly appears in the road, etc.—the outcome of the split-second reaction of a human driver is arguably more the result of chance than of any kind of rational decision-making. Even in relatively common examples, drivers are told that they should almost never swerve to avoid wildlife running across the road and risk hitting an oncoming car or slamming into a tree and killing themselves rather than hit a squirrel. But that instinct to avoid is strong and gets stronger when the animal that suddenly appears is a stray cat or dog.  The point is that whatever the outcome—whether a flattened squirrel or several dead motorists—the whole series of events, including the driver’s reaction, can be chalked up to a degree of uncertainty, and in that uncertainty lies many of our psychological coping mechanisms.

But what happens when humans pre-determine the outcome of certain ethical dilemmas and encode these into machines that we then grant authority to make these decisions?  In the simple case cited above, the squirrel is killed and all humans live, but what about a split-second decision that will result in the death of a passenger versus the deaths of a mother and baby crossing the road?  In the Summer of 2016, MIT researchers, grappling with exactly these types of questions, launched a website called Moral Machine which asks users to make a set of lose-lose decisions in various hypothetical traffic scenarios in which some parties face certain death.  Anyone can take the “test”, and the site will reveal how you “score” relative to the ethical decisions made by others.

Of course, the Moral Machine tests present the user with information that a car’s AI would, in principle, never know—like the fact that some of the potential victims are criminals.  But in a more likely scenario, age is a factor in some of the scenarios, a condition that strikes me as being more credible—that a vehicle might know it’s carrying a septuagenarian couple and may, therefore, decide that it is more ethical to kill them rather than a young family. The senior couple might even make the same selfless decision themselves, but such calculations don’t really occur when a human operator is reacting to an emergency faster than he can think.

What’s eerie about some of these Moral Machine tests is the implication that the data set used to enable an AI to make ethical decisions could theoretically include more than mere numbers (i.e. that the machine would simply default to save more lives than it takes).  Age could be a factor, but what about net worth or relative “value” to society?  Does the AI wipe out a whole busload of kids to save one physicist or surgeon or even a Kardashian? What about race or sexual orientation? This then begs the question of whether or not these pre-determined decisions are public knowledge or trade secrets, both of which present huge and unprecedented moral dilemmas.

In this regard, an article that appeared just a few days ago tells us that the next generation of self-driving cars from Mercedes-Benz will be programmed to save the passengers regardless of circumstances.  On the one hand, this is an algorithmic variation on the theme that the privileged class enjoy a priority lane on the right to life ahead of everyone else; but there is also something to be said for Mercedes choosing not to become trapped in the moral miasma of programming an ethical AI. Perhaps if all vehicles are required by law to default to a single directive like try to save the passengers, then this would approximate the instinctive but fallible reactions of human drivers and still allow uncertainty to play a role, thus absolving engineers of the responsibility to “play God.”  At least until the AI becomes self aware and begins to make such decisions on its own.

After all, it’s hard not to notice the dystopian implications of a man-made, ethical determinism when we remove the element of chance and cede authority to carry out life-and-death decisions to machines.  When we remove the psychological buffer provided by chance, fate, God’s will, etc., then tragic events naturally beg explanation and, therefore, an instinct to assign blame. This of course raises the companion question about those who would inevitably try to game the system, people who would “jailbreak” their vehicles to override any code that might not favor them as the chosen survivors of an accident.  Suddenly, this places the civil libertarians who complain about the “right” to tinker with technological property on the wrong side of that argument insofar as the theoretical “greater good” is concerned.

The ethical AI question also becomes another factor leading to the conclusion that autonomous vehicles might not be private property for very long. Rationally, to have an AI shuttling all of us hither and yon, the system would have to be level in order for it to be remotely ethical, suggesting that the private property models from Mercedes or Tesla or Ford are merely stepping stones toward a public system, or a highly regulated one. But these outcomes are not what manufacturers or leading data companies investing in this future are going have in mind.

This is one reason I agree with President Obama, when he said in a recent Wired interview with Joi Ito conducted by Scott Dadich, that it is essential that public funding play a role in the development of AI.  “…part of what we’re gonna have to understand is that if we want the values of a diverse community represented in these breakthrough technologies, then government funding has to be a part of it. And if government is not part of financing it, then all these issues that Joi has raised about the values embedded in these technologies end up being potentially lost or at least not properly debated,” said Obama.

Of course, the president is referring to developing an ethical AI beyond just vehicles, and his point is well taken.  The sci-fi future of AI is already here.  But the questions as to what values drive the decision-making are just barely being asked in the public debate. Meanwhile, the corporate rhetoric of “disruption” has already absolved many sins in the areas of privacy and intellectual property infringement.  Or as Sam Kriss put it so well in his excellent article for The Atlantic:  “Silicon Valley works by solving problems that hadn’t heretofore existed; its culture is pathologically fixated on the notion of ‘disruption.’ Tech products no longer feel like something offered to the public, but something imposed: The great visionary looks at the way everyone is doing something, and decides, single-handedly, to change it.”

NPR reported in late September that computer scientists from the major tech giants—IBM, Apple, Amazon, Microsoft, Facebook, & Google formed The Partnership on Artificial Intelligence to Benefit People and Society.  One of the goals of the partnership is to develop standards for best practices in the field of AI, including tackling ethical questions like the Trolley Problem for vehicles.  But it is essential that the public interest be represented in the development of these technologies, and as much as I may fault the Obama administration for being too Googley in various policy areas, I also credit the president himself for apparently thinking deeply about questions like how we develop an ethical AI. At the present rate of development and investment, let’s hope the outgoing president is not the last public representative to keep this conversation in the foreground.

Backpage Execs Arrested Because Pimping Isn’t Speech

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On October 6, the CEO of Backpage.com Carl Ferrer, along with former executives Michael Lacy and James Larkin, were arrested in California on charges alleging involvement in prostitution, including conspiracy to commit pimping of a minor.  The classified ad site had been under investigation by the California DOJ for three years and on the radar of anti-human-trafficking advocates for at least a decade.  Citing the importance of these arrests, Polaris has recorded nearly 2,000 incidents of sex trafficking that involved Backpage and further states that the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children told a Senate subcommittee “that 71 percent of all suspected child sex trafficking reports that it receives have a link to Backpage.”

Despite numerous claims—including by prominent digital rights activists—that Backpage has exclusively operated as a neutral site hosting user-generated classified ads in both “adult” and non-“adult” categories, the arrest warrant highlights include the following:

  • that well over 90% of Backpages’s tens of millions of dollars in revenue came from the “Adult” ads, which have clear links to both consensual and forced prostitution.
  • that Backpage became known by those in the commercial sex trade to be the “online brothel.”
  • that Ferrer and his associates purposely grew the “Adult” ad trade both domestically and abroad.

Perhaps the most damming evidence is that Ferrer and his associates allegedly used Backpage data to create what the warrant calls “escort directories,” sites that are in no way user-generated, but which are designed solely to drive customers for commercial sex to Backpage ads. Additionally, 7 of the 8 witnesses interviewed about their use of Backpage ads were identified in the warrant as “victims of trafficking,” some forced into prostitution before the age of 14.

Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act

Section 230 of CDA, which was passed in 1996, is the legal statute which states that online service providers shall not be treated as “publishers.” Site operators acting in good faith, and which are driven in part or in whole by user-generated content, are shielded from litigation stemming from material posted by a third party that might otherwise be actionable. In a nutshell, what the DMCA “safe harbor” does for OSPs and copyright infringement, CDA 230 does for just about every other kind of content.

In regard to a 2015 civil litigation filed against Backpage by three women—all allegedly victims of trafficking—the Electronic Frontier Foundation argued that CDA 230 required the dismissal of their claim against the site. As stated by Sophia Cope on September 8, 2015, “Where a website clearly participated directly in developing the alleged illegal content, immunity from suit is properly lost. But in cases like this, where the provider has allegedly colluded by the apparent implications of website design and content policies, Section 230 requires that the complaint be dismissed.”

Although this was not the EFF’s only statement on the matter, it was the crux of that organization’s defense of 230 in regard to the Backpage litigation.  This view was upheld in Massachusetts District Court and in the First Circuit Court of Appeals but was rejected by the Washington State Supreme Court, which allowed the civil suit to proceed.

When the EFF argued that CDA 230 was grounds for dismissal of the plaintiffs’ civil suit against Backpage this a) was within the purview of that organization’s mission; and b) stopped well short of defending Backpage itself when there was a reasonable probability that the ongoing criminal investigation could reveal that the owners were implicated in illegal activity.

Taking the Free Speech Thing Too Far

Where the EFF crossed that line, it appears, was on July 6, 2015, when director of activism Rainey Reitman strayed far beyond the scope of judicial application of CDA 230 and engaged in speculation to defend Backpage on free speech grounds. This was in response to a decision by major payment processors—Visa, Master Card, & Amex—deciding in that month to cease processing transactions for Backpage.  Reitman called this “caving to government pressure,” accusing the processors and law enforcement of stifling free speech.  She wrote …

“We don’t need Visa and MasterCard to play nanny for online speech. Payment processors and banks shouldn’t be in the position of deciding what type of online content is criminal or enforcing morality for the rest of society. For one thing, their businesses haven’t been designed to analyze the legal and societal issues at play in various forms of online expression.”

She further states (and this is the paragraph that gets me):

“Backpage.com can be used to sell an old refrigerator, find a new apartment, post about new community workshops, find a job, and offer many other services and goods. It also hosts an “adult” section of the site, where some people advertise escort services or try to connect with people who have similar sexual interests. This “adult” section requires visitors to confirm they are at least 18 years of age and allows users to get resources for reporting cases of suspected sexual exploitation with one click.”

Not only does Reitman engage in unfounded speculation about Backpage’s innocence—which seems like an unnecessarily dumb move for the EFF to make—but she actually implied that the site was helping to curb exploitation.  This particular rhetoric will sound familiar to copyright interests who’ve been listening to the Holy Trinity of infringement defenses for years.  1) We don’t know what’s happening on our site. 2) We host material that isn’t infringing.  3) Anyway, we’re helping you.

As the arrest warrant states, the non-“Adult” section of Backpage—the part innocently selling refrigerators and such—is mostly supported by free ads while the “Adult” section is supported by paid ads.  The warrant further states that from January 2013 to March 2015, 99% of the site’s revenue (which is in the tens of millions) came from the “Adult” section but that this ratio dropped to 90% in May of 2015, apparently after the major payment processors pulled their accounts.

Any reasonable person could deduce that the paid part of Backpage’s business was worth money while the free part was not; any reasonable person could observe that Backpage hosted a very large volume of ads for the commercial sex trade; any reasonable person could know that at least a portion of the commercial sex trade involves trafficked victims, including minors; and any reasonable person could know that the company was under investigation.  Given these plainly observable data, it’s hard to fathom that the EFF would allow Ms. Reitman to publicly assume Backpage’s fundamental innocence in the service of its chronic argument that everything online is protected speech. But it isn’t that hard to fathom.

Going back to the topic of “cultural capture” for a moment, I’ll stop short of accusing the EFF of knowingly defending alleged human traffickers, but I won’t stop short of accusing them of being so neck deep in their own PR bullshit, that they ended up defending alleged human traffickers for no reason.

Where Reitman really went too far down this road was when she described the “Adult” section as a place where users “try to connect with people who have similar sexual interests.”  As if Backpage were more like Tinder than the “online brothel” that everyone in the commercial sex trade seems to know that it is.  Those tech-utopian words connect and interest are just so friendly and Googley and social, one would never think to associate them with 13-year-olds forced by violence and threats of violence into the commercial sex trade.

Even if the folks at EFF could have reasonably convinced themselves that the owners of Backpage were not knowingly profiting from the commercial sex trade—and by extension trafficking—I think they were foolish to stray beyond commenting on anything other than the relevance of CDA 230 in a civil lawsuit.  To declare, as Reitman did, that, “Backpage, however, is not engaged in human trafficking. It shouldn’t be treated as if it were,” was an assumption that not only stepped outside the EFF’s wheelhouse, but it was also an absurd logical leap that appears to have been entirely wrong.

The point, of course, is not really the EFF itself but the message they promote, which assumes that all site owners naturally maintain a veil of ignorance about the content of their sites and that all online activity is protected speech.  Neither is true.  At the very least, site owners can certainly know where their money is coming from, and protected speech largely pertains to state action, not private enterprise.  I get why it’s easy to play this PR game with copyright infringement—because it seems like a victimless crime and because there is an amount of infringement in the digital age that rights holders are going to have to accept as unstoppable.  But I should hope that there is no percentage of for-profit, violent, human exploitation that we are willing to tolerate because we’ve lost perspective on what free speech is and why it is protected.

How the “Dancing Baby” Case Went Crazy

Last week, both the Electronic Frontier Foundation and Universal Music Group filed petitions with the United States Supreme Court in regard to what is commonly known as the “Dancing Baby” case.  The “baby” in question is about 11 years old now, and for those who might not know how a mundane home video became the focus of a multi-year, federal litigation now begging the attention of the Supreme Court, let’s review …

In February of 2007, Holden Lenz of Pennsylvania was just 18-months-old when his mother Stephanie video taped him dancing to the Prince song “Let’s Go Crazy” and then posted the video on YouTube—a platform that was just six months older than Holden. Because Prince was especially guarded about all uses of his music—and was justifiably critical of YouTube in particular—the Lenz video was one of several targets added to a list of DMCA takedown notices to be filed by Universal Music Group on the artist’s behalf. The “Dancing Baby” video was removed on June 5, 2007, and according to an ABC News story published in October of that year, Lenz stated that she was initially “frightened” about having her video removed from YouTube, concerned that UMG might file suit against her, and then the fear of said litigation made her “angry.”

So between the Summer and Fall of 2007, the public version of this story had already begun to stray from the relevant facts in the case. For starters, Ms. Lenz, on her own, had immediately sent an incorrectly filled-out DMCA counter notice on June 7 seeking to restore her video. But if she were truly frighted about a lawsuit by UMG, that would have been the moment for her to proceed with caution because a DMCA counter notice can, in some cases, trigger legal action by a rightsholder. Subsequently, at the advice of an attorney friend, Lenz contacted the Electronic Frontier Foundation to better understand her options, believing at the time that UMG might have infringed her First Amendment right of free speech.

PR by Litigation

Keeping in mind that nearly ten years ago, when this adventure began, it was easier for organizations like EFF to promote the message that DMCA takedown was widely abused and, therefore, chronically chilling speech. They still promote this message, of course, but in recent years, both research data and anecdotal evidence from numerous rightsholders indicate that takedown abuse is the exception while rampant infringement without recourse under DMCA is the rule.

On June 27, 2007, the EFF sent a correctly filed counter notice on Lenz’s behalf. YouTube restored the “Dancing Baby” video by mid July, and the EFF then filed its initial complaint against UMG on July 24, 2007. From there, both the public story and the court records suggest that Stephanie Lenz became, as Stephen Carlisle of Nova Southeastern University puts it, the “nominal plaintiff” who provided an ideal opportunity for the EFF to embark on an odyssey of PR by litigation—a lawsuit looking for an injury. After all, the video itself, as anyone can see, could not be more harmless; it has an actual baby in it!

In part, what we know about the motives and strategies driving this case is due to Ms. Lenz’s own carelessness as plaintiff when she revealed enough information, via emails and social media, that in 2010, she lost her attorney/client privilege to specific portions of her communications with the EFF. The casual communications cited in the record suggest that the EFF was determined to “get” UMG for something—Lenz uses the expression “salivating over getting their teeth into UMG”—even if they had to keep changing strategies to figure out what exactly UMG had done wrong.

Shifting Rationales

Technically, the Lenz case is pretty boring. A mom had a home movie taken down from YouTube and then that home movie was restored to the platform via the DMCA counter notice procedure, which is exactly the process Congress envisioned when it wrote the statutes. Had there been no expectation of occasional error or flaw on the part of rightsholders, there would not be a statutory counter notice “put back” procedure in the first place. The fact that the Lenz video was offline for a period of six weeks was due neither to a particular flaw in the DMCA nor to any action taken by UMG.

Moreover, the extent to which Ms. Lenz felt “injured” by the removal is unclear since in one of her emails, she stated, “I don’t care if YouTube doesn’t want to host it. Not like I’m paying them.”  This was reported by CNET in a February 2011 article in which EFF attorney Corynne McSherry is cited promoting the message that copyright owners are frequently “careless in sending notices” and, therefore, “interfering with free speech.”

But although Lenz stated that her initial belief was that UMG had infringed her First Amendment rights—and this story has often been referred to in the press and on social media as a free speech issue—the fact is that even the EFF would eventually concede that the temporary removal of the video did not implicate the First Amendment. This is because neither UMG nor YouTube is a state actor, and because the content of the video did not contain political speech, criticism, parody, or newsworthy content of any kind.

According to email communications made by Lenz, it appears the EFF considered a few avenues to pursue litigation, including a California State breach of contract complaint, which suggests that Lenz’s story did not immediately present itself as a constitutional or DMCA case in EFF’s mind. In fact, the initial complaint filed in July of 2007 was for “tortious interference,” which was dismissed.

Additionally, in a June 14, 2007 email to her mother (10 days before the first complaint was filed), Lenz states that EFF’s pro bono “fees” would be covered by “the settlement.” This may just be a layman misspeaking because an expectation of a settlement would be a very odd strategy for a rights advocacy organization that is supposedly taking a case on principle. After all, a settlement by the litigants generally means the court does not rule on whatever principle is being argued.

The EFF amended its complaint to argue that UMG had violated §512(f) of the DMCA, which states that a plaintiff may seek damages if a takedown notice filer “knowingly and materially misrepresents that the material or activity is infringing.” And that is how Lenz v UMG became a fair use case. A plaintiff does not have to have suffered financial loss in order to prove that an injury has been caused, but absent an abridgment of Lenz’s First Amendment rights, the EFF’s argument now rests solely on the sheer wrongness that the video was removed at all—that it was, in their words, “censored for six weeks.”

As indicated above, given that Ms. Lenz chose, in error, to investigate the First Amendment implications, and that the EFF chose to take the time to transform this minor event into a major case—and in light of the fact that the OSP (YouTube) is responsible for restoring files at its discretion—the six-week interval cannot be considered the responsibility of the defendant. In general, whatever factors result in a file being restored, either within hours, days, or weeks, are not in the control of the original takedown notice-sender; and as the UMG petition states, the Lenz video was ultimately restored via the counter notice procedure. In other words, Lenz’s and EFF’s time spent exploring both tort and constitutional violations—both of which fail—is neither UMG’s fault nor its responsibility to pay for.

Lenz Becomes a Fair Use Case

So, the only way for the EFF to argue that UMG had “knowingly misrepresented” that the “Dancing Baby” video was infringing was to prove via testimony that the company had not “instructed its employee to consider fair use” before filing the takedown notice. And that’s where we are today. In September 2015, the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals agreed that a rights holder must “consider fair use” before sending a takedown notice but stopped well short of agreeing with EFF’s assertion that such a consideration must be made based on an “objective” standard.

The EFF has tried to argue—indeed it can only argue—that a failure to “objectively consider fair use” is tantamount to “knowingly and materially misrepresenting that the material or activity is infringing.” As an amusing side note, in an early email to a friend (June 12, 2007), Lenz stated, “Mine’s not a fair use case at all.” Granted, she cannot be expected to know the law per se, but in context to the other comments and court records, this early email does seem to support the view that this entire case has been a fishing expedition—a lawsuit looking for an injury.

As argued in the UMG petition, a “subjective” standard with regard to all considerations is the reasonable and correct interpretation of the DMCA statute, which requires a takedown notice-sender to have a “good faith belief” that a use is infringing. The plain meaning of “good faith belief” is clearly subjective; and fair use doctrine is the most subjective aspect of copyright law—a multi-faceted assessment for which the precedent caselaw provides myriad, conflicting and narrow outcomes.

Hypocrisy Undermines the Intent of DMCA 

So, even if the most experienced copyright attorney in the country were instructed to make an “objective” fair use assessment, she might ask how exactly this would be achieved. While it’s true that attorneys can make very solid fair use assessments—especially where precedent provides guidance—an “objective” standard applied to DMCA takedown notices would only further disenfranchise the independent rights holder who is no more an expert than Ms. Lenz was. This implies the need for counsel which contradicts the extra-judicial purpose of DMCA.

The truly galling hypocrisy here is that the indie rights holder would be expected to know with certainty when a use is fair while users remain free to infringe with impunity, and large OSPs are free to monetize those infringements on the basis that they “cannot know” what’s infringing or what isn’t. For the small rights holder DMCA is already toothless, but EFF would like to make it voiceless as well.

In Lenz, absent a ruling by the Supreme Court that fair use can be considered “objectively,” the foundation that UMG was ever in violation under §512(f)—that it “knowingly and materially misrepresented” that the “Dancing Baby” video was infringing—should fail. Consequently, the argument that any non-pecuniary injury was caused should also fail. Perhaps, the EFF will succeed in getting the $1,275 in pro bono “fees” Lenz theoretically owes the EFF for filing the counter notice in 2007, which would make this case landmark indeed—getting the Supreme Court to adjudicate a small claim.

Finally, it’s worth noting that in the same October 2007 ABC News story cited above, Gigi Sohn, then head of Public Knowledge, opined, “I think the large copyright holders believe that if they do not police every single use of their copyrighted work — no matter how benign — that somehow that will open the floodgates to massive piracy.”

Whether this observation was acutely naive or just cutely dismissive, the fact remains that over the next several years after Sohn said this, YouTube would go on to earn fortunes by hosting diluvian proportions of infringement by its users. In light of the immeasurable losses to working authors, who have almost no power under the DMCA to protect their rights, the EFF should frankly be ashamed of themselves for spending nearly a decade in federal courts fighting to protect absolutely nothing.