Tag: Featured

Bittertweet Symphony

One of my first mantras when I started this blog was I hate Twitter, but that was shorthand for the broader view that social media is a trainwreck. Of course, the existential difficulty presented by these platforms is that while they can be highly toxic, as long as the market remains, one must have a presence if one has a business or anything else to promote. Leaving Twitter or the Meta or Google properties is not an option unless they dwindle to ghost towns. And people keep predicting Twitter is about to do just that, but is it?

Unlike the typically reclusive tech bosses, Elon Musk is all over Twitter all day long. It’s hard to miss his tweets, many of which proclaim to be defending the speech right, including on behalf of the former president, who attempted to overthrow the constitutional order of the Republic. Whether Musk even contemplates that paradox is unknown just as it is unclear whether he believes his own bullshit about the speech right or simply thinks the rhetoric will be good for business. When he complains that an advertiser exercising its speech right is anti-speech, is he really that obtuse, or is he using “speech” as a lever, hoping the market will pressure the advertiser to re-invest in Twitter?

On the other hand, if Zeeshan Aleem writing for MSNBC is correct, Musk is actively willing to lose one market in favor of another. On the subject of reinstating Trump’s account following a poll conducted by Twitter, Aleem writes, “In his presentation of his faux referendum as a win for ‘the people,’ Musk appears to be trying on right-wing populism for size. And it’s only the latest sign that he views Twitter as a platform for advancing his political agenda as he develops increasingly pronounced far-right views.”

If Musk is a right-wing populist in the mode of Trump, then his free speech rhetoric is on target—courting a base that has swapped all comprehension of American civics for a politics of fear, victimhood, and conspiracy mongering. It takes a practiced ignorance to kowtow to a putative authoritarian while arguing that he deserves a platform under the principles of the First Amendment; and I would say that one must be Trump-drunk to so thoroughly misunderstand the speech right, except that isn’t true, is it?

Elon Musk’s stewardship of Twitter is the logical extension of tech-utopianism just as Trump was a natural biproduct of it—because the erroneous defense that everything is free speech fosters that populist fallacy which alleges there are always two or more sides to every story. Not always. Not every story. For instance, Twitter will no longer enforce its COVID misinformation policy. So, when the market or a news editor or a platform rejects or ignores speech that is objectively false, grotesquely insane, or merely offensive, the speaker naturally colors himself a victim of censorship or “cancel culture.”

But as the new CEO of Twitter, Musk appears as a golem made from the dust and mud slung by the Electronic Frontier Foundation, Google, Facebook, Fight for the Future, PublicKnowledge, Techdirt, Reddit, Wikimedia Foundation, and every other organization or Big Tech business who preached the gospel that every tittle and jot posted online is fundamentally speech worthy of protection. Yes, Musk is a particular kind of asshole, but the speech nonsense he coughs up today is indistinguishable from anything the tech-utopian/Silicon Valley crowd have been spewing for twenty years.

From the anti-SOPA campaign to the TPP to the incoherent battle over net neutrality to SESTA/FOSTA to the bananas narrative about Section 230 during the Trump administration, the underlying false premise has been the same—that because social platforms are clearly forums for speech, we cannot distinguish, let alone moderate, speech that is harmful or even illegal in this brave new world. But even though that view waned significantly—and deservedly—after 2016, Musk thinks he’s being clever here:

In 2022, that headline is not remotely controversial. The evidence is in and overwhelming. By first allowing every syllable or image to flow freely and then treating it all as protected speech, internet platforms fueled mobs that bullied speakers—very often women with something to say—into silence. Cyber civil rights experts Danielle Citron and Hany Farid wrote earlier this month in Slate:

In 2009, Twitter banned only spam, impersonation, and copyright violations. Then, the lone safety employee, Del Harvey, recruited one of us (Citron) to write a memo about threats, cyberstalking, and harms suffered by people under assault. Harvey wanted to tackle those harms, but the C-suite resisted in the name of being the ‘free speech wing of the free speech party.’

It took many years and multiple shocks to the political system before certain individuals in Big Tech finally admitted that they had helped build insidious machines while platform operators with the help of “digital rights” groups swept every sin under the rug of free speech. Many of the individuals who finally spoke out were whistleblowers and defectors from Facebook, but Jack Dorsey actively sought to change Twitter. Again, Citron and Farid write:

[In 2015], Jack Dorsey returned as CEO and made trust and safety a priority. This was especially evident after the 2016 election. In response to the disinformation and hate speech that plagued the platform during the election season, Dorsey and Gadde gathered a small kitchen cabinet … to map a path forward to ensure that the platform would enhance public discourse rather than destroy it.

It is no longer news that Musk fired the trust and safety folks at the company and has allegedly reversed about a decade’s worth of initiatives designed to make Twitter safer and more accountable. And it is clear from his tweets that he is doubling down on an experiment in laissez-faire speech absolutism that has already failed. In fact, he wrote this spit-take inducing tweet just a few days ago:

Is he really that naïve? Just a tech bro Ozymandias presiding over a village about to become a wasteland? Or is he an ideologue weaponizing the rhetoric of democracy to soften the ground for another run at authoritarianism? Or maybe he’s just a guy with typically inconsistent views filtered through a billionaire’s ego? Whatever Musk envisions for Twitter—a return to the free-for-all that Dorsey et al started to clean up, or a competitor to Parler—for sure he does not have to lose the whole market in order to lose the whole business.

Hazmat suit photo by: Harbucks

Pirate Sites Calling Themselves Libraries are Pirate Sites

I know I’m arriving late to this party. It’s almost Thanksgiving, but it was back on November 3 that two Russian nationals—Anton Napolsky and Valeriia Ermakov—were arrested in Argentina at the request of the United States on charges of criminal copyright infringement, wire fraud, and money laundering. Concurrent with the arrests, authorities seized 241 domains controlled by the book piracy enterprise the pair allegedly operated called Z-Library. According to TorrentFreak, the repository has migrated, at least in some form, to the dark web.

The indictment against Napolsky and Ermakov was unsealed in a Brooklyn, NY court on November 16, and while they await likely extradition to the U.S., author and publisher organizations and other creators’ rights advocates applaud the efforts of the law-enforcement agencies involved with the investigation. My friend Neil Turkewitz notes, “I have been operating in the copyright world for nearly four decades, and I could probably count on one hand the number of times that a piracy story focused on individual creators rather than the much maligned ‘Big Media.’”

True. Not that “Big Media” piracy is justified, but it is substantially harder to fool oneself that book piracy does not directly harm individual authors, who generally make less than a living wage for their writing. In a statement released by the Authors Guild (AG) praising the interdiction of Z-Library, CEO Mary Rasenberger states, “We owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Eastern District of New York and to the FBI for all of their hard work in not only shutting down the site but also finding and apprehending the perpetrators. We also thank the U.K. Publishers Association and international authorities who assisted in the investigation, as well as the authors who assisted us by filing statements reporting piracy of their books on Z-Library.”

I will decline to wade again into the morass of rationalizations for piracy that predictably erupted on social media when Z-Library was taken offline. That story never changes. Though, perhaps the rhetoric of the pirates themselves changes—at least a little. “There is a growing — and disturbing — trend of pirate operations masquerading as libraries to manipulate and evade the law,” states Lui Simpson, Senior VP, Global Policy for the Association of American Publishers (AAP). “This action [against Z-Library] sends a clear message that industrial scale infringement will not be tolerated, no matter what the perpetrators call themselves.”

Maybe “library” is the new “sharing service”? Simpson is right, of course, that it doesn’t matter. A pirate operation by any name will still smell like a criminal enterprise, and in case you’re curious about when copyright infringement may be deemed “criminal,” the basics are as follows:  The infringement must be willful and for purposes of commercial or private financial gain; or the works infringed must have a retail value of $1,000 in any 180-day period. That’s not a very high bar, though criminal copyright indictments are typically brought against large-scale, blatant operations like Z-Library, whose estimated 8 to 11-million books it made available obviously exceeds $1,000 by orders of magnitude.

Further, traditional online piracy models demonstrate that the infringer does not have to profit directly from trade in the infringed works themselves. One can copy and distribute works without license and either cross the $1000 threshold (easily), or one can commercialize the traffic generated by “giving away” unlicensed works, which creates a nexus between the infringing activity and commercial/financial gain for the infringer. Historically, the pirate sites made most of their revenue from the online advertising system, but when some of those avenues were closed off by the legit ad industry, the site operators pivoted to various all-you-can-eat subscription models and malware as sources of revenue.

Of course, one does not need to operate a Russian pirate network to engage in illegal copying and distribution of books while telling the public the enterprise is a “library.” Internet Archive calls part of its operation an “Open Library,” even though it does not meet the definition of a “library” under the statute and, more importantly, despite the fact that it does not license in-copyright eBooks but instead produces unauthorized eBooks and makes them available without permission. And it does this under a model that is legally unfounded and operationally so murky as to make anyone wonder exactly how the money flows throughout the organization.

From the author’s perspective, the potential harm caused by IA’s “Open Library” is hardly distinguishable from the harm caused by a Z-Library. So, while IA may not be engaged in criminal copyright infringement, its broad-based efforts to undermine copyright are perhaps even worse. An enterprise like Z-Library will cause harm until it is shut down. What Internet Archive and its friends want to do is to strip copyright rights from authors forever. And I would call that criminal in the colloquial sense, if not in the legal one.

In Gonzalez v. Google, SCOTUS Should Look Beyond the Term “Recommendations”

In October, the Supreme Court granted cert in two cases that may limit the immunity granted to internet platforms under Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act. Both Gonzalez v. Google and Twitter v. Tamneh, arise from plaintiffs seeking to hold platforms accountable for “targeted recommendations” of material associated with acts of international terrorism, but in this post, I will only focus on the former case. Here’s a slightly truncated background as stated in the Gonzalez petition:

In November 2015 Nohemi Gonzalez, a 23-year-old U.S. citizen studying in Paris, France, was murdered when three ISIS terrorists fired into a crowd of diners at La Belle Equipe bistro. . . . Several of Ms. Gonzalez’s relatives, as well as her estate, subsequently brought this action against Google, . . . The plaintiffs alleged that Google, through YouTube, had provided material assistance to, and had aided and abetted, ISIS, conduct forbidden and made actionable by the AntiTerrorism Act.

Doubtless, the particulars of these cases raise complex questions of liability that even many critics of 230’s too-broadly applied immunity may have difficulty defending on all merits. Google’s response, for instance, states that the “ATA claims in this case have produced a procedural morass.” Nevertheless, the Court agreed to review, having denied all Section 230 petitions in the past, leaving some to note that Justice Thomas signaled a strong interest in Section 230 immunity in a brief respecting denial of certiorari in the 2020 case Malwarebytes v. Enigma Software Group. There, Thomas wrote:

Adopting the too-common practice of reading extra immunity into statutes where it does not belong, courts have relied on policy and purpose arguments to grant sweeping protection to Internet platforms. . . . Without the benefit of briefing on the merits, we need not decide today the correct interpretation of §230. But in an appropriate case, it behooves us to do so.

I will leave it to others to discuss whether Gonzalez is the right vehicle to address the most chronic harms caused by overbroad readings of 230—or to speculate exactly what this Supreme Court is looking to achieve in light of the politicized narratives and misstatements that have attached to public discussion about the statute.

Until the Trump administration turned the White House into the Ministry of Misinformation, Section 230 was not mainstream news, and one consequence of those events is that the provision has been misrepresented as a content (i.e., political) neutrality law, which it is not. Though, as discussed in the post linked above, the neutrality rhetoric is a misconception Big Tech promoted itself years before Members of Congress started alleging “anti-conservative” bias and conflating that talking point with threats to abolish Section 230.

But I wanted to focus on the narrow question presented in the Gonzalez petition, which is whether “targeted recommendations” made by interactive computer services are properly immunized. Because whatever the outcome of this case—and if there is any chance that Congress might effectively amend Section 230—both the Court and lawmakers should reject the too-friendly term “recommendation” to describe how algorithms on major platforms are designed to attract and retain user attention.

It is now a matter of record that algorithms trained to adapt to user behavior and feed what may be our worst instincts is an often-toxic phenomenon that is not adequately described by the word “recommendation.” Interaction between the social platform and the human user is not comparable to reading a book review or hearing a friend’s suggestion to see a show or even having Netflix indicate that if you liked movie A, you might like movie B. These positive social transactions are analogized by Big Tech to describe its systems and models in the same way the industry invokes other socially constructive words like “share,” “connect,” and “democratize” while papering over hazards like IP theft, harassment, and the wildfire spread of misinformation.

Google’s Response Begs for Scrutiny

Notably, in Google’s response asking the Court to deny cert in Gonzalez, it practically admits to the insidious nature of algorithmic “recommendation” when it emphasizes the fact that the courts have held that search engines are protected by 230—and that search is comparable to “recommendation.” Here, Google inadvertently highlights the reason search sucks now—because rather than return results based on a reasonably objective definition of “relevance,” the Google search algorithm has been tweaked to return results “of likely interest” to the user based on what Google has learned about them.

I doubt I am alone in finding that search results are consistently less useful than they were just a few years ago—even to the extent that the most logical result (e.g., an entity’s website) appears on page two or three, where it used to at least be the first or second item below the top three paid placements. But on a darker note, Google’s brief practically acknowledges that if the user is an anti-vaxxer or an election denier or believer in some other conspiracy nonsense, they will be served search results likely to reinforce those false narratives. Whatever we want to call this phenomenon and its psychological influence, it is too quaint by some margin to call it “recommendation.”

But even if Google Search still functions in a way that is properly immunized by Section 230 (and I would question that as the technology changes), we confront a whole other level of insidious power to influence with the combination of Google or Facebook’s algorithms and the capacity of video to tap into emotions—especially strong emotions like anger and fear. The notion that the fundamental design of YouTube does not foster a symbiotic relationship between the potential terrorist and the recruiting video is barely plausible. But for sure, it is a phenomenon Congress did not consider in 1996 when it adopted Section 230.

Argus is Allegedly Blind

When it comes to marketing, Google et al. boast the capacity to know what a user is going to buy, how she’ll vote, or what she’ll order for dinner—even minutes before she knows these things herself. But when the conversation turns to liability, these same companies suddenly cannot know much of anything. While Google is probably correct that there are several complicating aspects in the Gonzalez complaint, it also downplays the efficacy of a platform like YouTube to convert latent emotions into dangerous action.

Whether that action is joining ISIS and murdering tourists or joining a mob and attacking the U.S. Capitol or breaking into the home of the Speaker and attacking her spouse, I think we have sufficient evidence to conclude that insane narratives are running amok and driving people to extreme behavior with deadly consequences. Google et al. may not bear direct responsibility for these events—surely, terrorism existed long before the internet—but neither are these platforms mere hapless conduits incidentally fueling the fire. And again, Google almost acknowledges this in its reply brief.

“…since the 2015 Paris attack, YouTube has overhauled its terrorism policies, as one of petitioners’ sources recognizes,” the brief states. Oddly, Google cites a WSJ story which reports that despite changes by the platform, YouTube still “Drives People to the Internet’s Darkest Corners.” More acutely, if YouTube attempted to change its algorithm and/or its policies in response to the Paris attacks, this suggests that a nexus does exist between platform “recommendation” and videos that are likely to motivate violent action. This level of interaction between user and machine, which serves the platform’s interest more than it does the public interest, was neither envisioned nor discussed at the time 230 was adopted.

Circa 1996, the analogies were limited to human publishers who make decisions about what to disseminate, cut, or edit. But those points of reference are woefully incomplete for understanding contemporary data mining and the manner in which algorithms produce real-world events. Thirty years ago, we were talking about this stuff with the expectation that the network might recognize that you’re in the market for a toaster and will show you some ads for toasters. But when toaster shopping feeds an advanced algorithm capable of intuiting that you might be interested in all the videos that will “prove” how the Jews are running the world or that Yoga is Satan worship, that is a very different creature than a “recommendation” machine.

So, as the Court considers whether “targeted recommendations” are properly immunized by Section 230, we should hope that it recognizes how tepid that term is for describing the state of the technology, which behaves nothing like Congress’s understanding nearly thirty years ago. Whatever the proper term should be, it is implausible that Congress intended to provide blanket immunity for a business model that, even occasionally, fuels riots, terrorism, harassment, nonconsensual pornography, rampant misinformation, and even genocide. Surely, these cannot be acceptable byproducts of the most ambitious or prosaic uses of the internet.