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April 24, 2020

Viruswashing

wizard-of-oz-crystal-ball.jpgIndividual humans surprise you in a crisis; the curmudgeon across the street turns into a tireless volunteer; the sycophantic celebrity abruptly becomes a helpfully trenchant critic of their former-friend politicians. Organizations - whether public, as in governments, or private, as in companies - tend to remain in character, carried on by inertia, and claim their latest actions are to combat the crisis. For climate change - "greenwashing". For this pandemic - "viruswashing", as some of the creepiest companies seek to de-creepify themselves in the name of public health.

In the last month, Privacy International's surveillance legislation tracker has illustrated the usual basic crisis principles. One: people will accept things on a temporary basis that they wouldn't accept if they thought they'd be permanent. Two: double that for scared and desperate people. Three: the surveillance measures countries adopt reflect their own laws and culture. Four: someone always has a wish list of surveillance powers in their bottom drawer, ready to push for in a crisis. Five: the longer the crisis goes on the harder it will be to fully roll things back to their pre-crisis state when we can eventually all agree it's ended.

Some governments are taking advantage. Trump, for example, has chosen this moment to suspend immigration. More broadly, the UN Refugee Agency warns that refugee rights are being lost. Of 167 countries that have closed their borders in full or in part, 57 make no exceptions for asylum-seekers.

But governments everywhere are also being wooed by both domestic and international companies. Palantir, for example, is working with the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and its international counterparts to track the virus's spread. In the UK, Palantir and an AI start-up are data-mining NHS databases to build a predictive computer model. Largely uknown biometric start-ups are creating digital passports for NHS workers. The most startling is the news that the even-creepier NSO Group, whose government clients have used its software to turn journalists' and activists' phones into spy devices is trying to sell Western governments on its (repurposed) tracking software.

On Twitter, Pat Walshe (@privacymatters) highlights the Covid Credentials Initiative, a collaboration among 60 organizations to create verifiable credential solutions - that is, some sort of immunity certificate that individuals for individuals. Walshe also notes Jai Vijayan's story about Microsoft's proposals: "Your phone will become your digital passport". Walsh's commenters remind that in a fair number of countries SIM registration is essential. The upshot sounds similar to China's Alipay Health app, which scores each phone user and outputs a green, yellow, or red health code - which police check at entrances to areas of the city, public transport, and workplaces before allowing entry. Except: in the West we're talking a system built by private, secretive companies that, as Mike Elgan wrote last year at Fast Company, are building systems in the US that add up functionally to something very like China's much-criticized social credit scheme.

In Britain, where there's talk of "immunity certificates" - deconfinement apps - my model history of ID cards, which became mandatory under the National Registration Act (1939) and which no one decommissioned after World War II ended...until 1952, when Harry Willcock, who had refused to show police his ID card on demand, won in court by arguing that the law had lapsed when the emergency ended and the High Court agreed that the ID cards were now being used in unintended ways. Ever since, someone regularly proposes to bring them back. In the early 2000s it was to eliminate benefit fraud; in 2006 it was crime prevention. Now immunity certificates could be a wedge.

Tracking and tracing are age-old epidemiologists' tools; it's natural that people want to automate them, given the speed and scale of this pandemic. It's just the source: the creepiest companies are seizing the opportunity to de-creepify themselves by pivoting to public health. Eventually, Palantir has to do this if it wants to pay its investors the kind of returns they're used to; the law enforcement and security market is just too small. That said, at the Economist Hal Hodson casts nuance on Palantir's deal with the NHS - for now.

Obviously, we need all the help we can get. Nonetheless, these are not companies that are generally on our side. Letting them turn embed themselves into essential public health infrastructure feels like accepting letting a Mafia family use the proceeds of crime to buy themselves legitimate businesses. Meanwhile, much of the technology is unproven for health purposes and may not be effective, and basing it on apps, as Rachel Coldicutt writes, is a vector for discrimination

The post 9/11 surveillance build-up should have taught us that human rights must be embedded at the beginning because neither the "war on terror" nor the "war on drugs" has a formal ending when powers naturally expire. While this specific pandemic will end, others will come behind it. So: despite the urgency, protecting ourselves against permanent changes is easiest handled now, while the systems for tracking and tracing infections and ensuring public safety are being built. A field hospital can be built in ten days and then dismantled as if it never was; public health infrastructure cannot.


Illustrations: The Wicked Witch of the West and her crystal ball, from The Wizard of Oz (1939).

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. Stories about the border wars between cyberspace and real life are posted occasionally during the week at the net.wars Pinboard - or follow on Twitter.

April 17, 2020

Anywhere but here

Jacinda_Ardern_at_the_University_of_Auckland_(cropped).jpgThe international comparisons that feature in every chart of infection curves are creating a new habit. Expatriates are unusually prone to this sort of thing anyway, as I've written before, but right now almost everyone appears to have some form of leader envy. Eventually, history will judge, but for now the unquestioned leader on the leader leaderboard is New Zealand prime minister Jacinda Ardern, who this week followed up her decisive and undeniably effective early action by taking a 20% pay cut in solidarity with her country's workers. Also much admired this week - even subtitled! - is Germany's Angela Merkel, whose press conference explaining that small margins in infection rates make huge differences when translated into hospital beds over time, was widely circulated for its honest clarity. Late yesterday New York state governor Andrew Cuomo appeared to have copied it for his own presentation.

Cuomo's daily briefings have become must-see-TV for many of us with less forthcoming leaders; they start with facts, follow with frank interpretation, and end with rambling empathy. Cuomo's rise - which has led many to wonder why he wasn't a presidential candidate - is greeted more cautiously among New York state residents and by those who note the effectiveness of governors Jay Inslee (Washington) and Gavin Newsom (California)). On Sunday's edition of Last Week Tonight, John Oliver said, "I never really liked Andrew Cuomo before this, but I will admit he's doing admirably well, and I can't wait to get to the other side of this when I can go back to being irritated by him again.". He may already have his chance: yesterday evening Cuomo announced he'd signed up McKinsey to plan a strategy for ending the lockdown. Meanwhile, in a tiny unrepresentative sample of local contacts "what world leader do you wish you had in this crisis?", the only British leader mentioned was Scottish first minister Nicola Sturgeon. Only the US federal vacuum can make us feel better about our present government.

***

One unexpected entertainment in this unfolding disaster is the peeks inside people's homes afforded by their appearances on TV or Zoom. I am finally getting to browse at least a small portion of the bookshelves and artwork or admire the ceiling cornices belonging to people I've known for decades but have never had the chance to visit. How TV commentators set themselves up is revealing, too. Adam Schiff appears to unfortunately dress his broadcast corner like a stage set. And one MSNBC commentator sits in an immaculate kitchen, the expanse of whiteness broken only by a pink dishtowel whose movements are fun to chart. Presumably, right before broadcast someone goes through frantically cleaning.

***

This year appears to be the Year of New York. Even before the pandemic, the first Democratic presidential primaries were (however briefly) dominated by three 70-something New Yorkers: Michael Bloomberg, an aristocrat from Manhattan's Upper East Side (even if he was nominally born in Boston), whose campaign ads were expensive but entertaining; Bernie Sanders, whom no amount of Vermont-washing can change from an unmistakable Brooklyn Jew; and Donald Trump, the kid from Queens. In the Washington Post in February - so long ago! - Howard Fineman highlighted this inter-borough dispute and concluded: "The civil way to settle this is to put Trump, Sanders, and Bloomberg on a Broadway park bench and let them argue politics while they feed the pigeons." Two months on, the most visible emerging US leaders in the pandemic are Fauci, Brooklyn-born of Italian descent; Cuomo, Queens-born, also of Italian descent; and Trump.

Fauci was already a familiar name to readers of what a friend calls "plague books". He has been director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases since 1984, and played a crucial role in the AIDS crisis (see Randy Shilts' 1987 book, And the Band Played On) and ebola epidemic (see Laurie Garrett's 1995 title, The Coming Plague), and on and on to today. When he emerged as a member of the White House task force, the natural reaction was, "Of course" and "Thank God". And then: "How old is he, anyway?" He is 79 and looks incredibly fit. Still, one frets. Does he have to be kept standing there mute for two hours? He could be sleeping. He could be working. He could be...well, doing almost anything else, more usefully. We are all incredibly lucky to have him and he should be treated as a precious resource.

***

The loss of things to go to that provoke ideas for things to write about has me scrambling around the Internet looking for virtual stand-ins. For those interested in net.wars-type issues (and why else would you be here?), the Open Rights Group is hosting a weekly discussion group on Fridays at 16:30 London time (that is BST, or GMT+1), and ORG offshoots such as ORG Glasgow are also holding virtual events. I can also recommend the Meetup group London Futurists, which is hosting regular discussions that sound crazier than they actually are. Further afield, I'm sampling events in New York at Data & Society, and in California, at UC Berkeley's Center for Law & Technology. Why not? Anything with live humans trying to think about hard problems, and I'm there. Virtually.


Illustrations: New Zealand prime minister Jacinda Ardern campaigning in 2017 (Brigitte Neuschwander-Kasselordner, via Wikimedia).

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. Stories about the border wars between cyberspace and real life are posted occasionally during the week at the net.wars Pinboard - or follow on Twitter.

April 10, 2020

Losers

Morry-Taylor-1996-president-cspan.jpegHere in 2020, the book that has most helped me understand the political circumstances in which the US finds itself is Michael Lewis's 1997 book, Losers: The Road to Everyplace But the White House, originally released in the US as Trail Fever, because apparently the publisher thought that Americans wouldn't buy a book about losers. From Lewis's comments (and from the fact that this book does not appear on his website), it appears Americans didn't respond to the euphemistic replacement either.

We should have, because it explains so much about what happened in 2016 and since. In the book, Lewis follows the losing candidates in the US 1996 presidential election. That year, Bill Clinton was elected to his second term, defeating veteran Republican candidate Bob Dole. The Democratic primaries were pro-forma. The real action for Lewis, who found following the most successful candidates a throw-away-your-press-credentials chore of stenographically rendering vague aphorisms from carefully controlled corrals, was anywhere Morry Taylor happened to be.

Who? you ask, justifiably. To open his description of Taylor, Lewis starts with Taylor's own words: "I'm what you call an empty refrigerator - you open it up and there's nuthin' inside." Taylor was the founder and CEO of Titan Wheel International, a billion-dollar company he built by buying up bankrupted farm wheel companies and building them back up, and he conceived the idea of running for president when an employee suggested it after listening to a typical Taylor rant about idiotic Washington politicians. After thought, "Morry decided that the country finally was ready to elect a president who was a serious businessman. The only question was: Which businessman?" As we now know, the answer came 20 years later, and turned out to be, "The guy who plays one on TV."

By 1996, that businessman wasn't going to be Ross Perot, who had run in 1992 as an independent and tried again in 1996 with his own Reform Party.. Taylor proposed to run as a Republican, the most obscure of the dozen who ran that year. Alongside him, besides Dole, were: the paleoconservative broadcaster Pat Buchanan, former Tennessee governor Lamar Alexander (since 2003 a senator from Tennessee), former diplomat Alan Keyes, Senator Richard Lugar (R-IN), Senator Phil Gramm (R-TX), California Governor Pete Wilson, magazine publisher Steve Forbes, and Congressman Bob Dornan (R-CA). Wilson and Specter withdrew before the primaries, and all but Buchanan and Dole withdrew before the nominating convention. There, Buchanan finally gave up.

Lewis's embrace of Morry Taylor as a journalistic subject is largely due to his perception that the closer a candidate is to winning the less authentic he can afford to be. (See also the superb 1972 movie The Candidate, which captures this perfectly.) Taylor has no expectations, is using his own money, and can say what he likes. The only big-name politician Lewis encounters who feels the same freedom is John McCain, who emerges as a quiet hero. Getting money out of politics, then as now a constant drumbeat, doesn't seem a solution to Lewis: "Even if you take the money out of politics you still have to confront the reason money is so important in the first place: the terror of honest political speech."

The American politics Lewis describes is of a top layer who feign engagement with big issues but actually shy away from them: "There is a great tradition of big political questions...being addressed only by people regarded as crackpots".

Today's Green New Deal was gathered in the margins in 2006 before its 2018 adoption by high-vis Congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio-Cortes (D-NY). Some called her "naive", but it was embraced in this year's Democratic primaries by Senator Bernie Sanders (D-VT). Just a month ago, Sanders, who finally suspended his presidential campaign this week, was being called a communist for pushing Medicare for All - today an essential stopgap to manage the pandemic. Two months ago, Andrew Yang, explaining universal basic income to Joe Rogan, was an impossible dreamer. Today, it's on the table, even if only temporarily. The crisis has moved the Overton window; these things are now *thinkable*, rather than too dangerous to elect.

But Lewis's most startling conclusion is this one, about Buchanan, who sought to reinvent the Republican party in his image: "Maybe the most striking thing about his campaign is that it triumphed, however briefly, in prosperous times. Buchanan was selling anger when there wasn't a great deal to be angry about. You can imagine all sorts of events that could change that: a stock market collapse; a recession; a war in which Americans die wearing U.N. blue; a revolution in Mexico. A medium-sized downturn, and the people at the Buchanan rallies will be not unemployed textile workers but lawyers and doctors. Anger would become respectable. And any man with the capacity to speak to it could go far."

There it is, spelled out, in 1996: anger, waiting to be tapped. And then came the dot-com bust, 9/11, and the 2008 financial crisis.

Three and a half years on from the triumph of anger, the Democratic primaries began with new candidates and new ideas, and are ending with an old candidate wielding a reset button and the built-up outrage of millions of Democrats. Are we ready for this?

Illustrations: Morry Taylor on C-Span in 1996.

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. Stories about the border wars between cyberspace and real life are posted occasionally during the week at the net.wars Pinboard - or follow on Twitter.

April 2, 2020

Uncontrolled digital unlending

800px-Books_HD_(8314929977).jpg
The Internet has made many aspects of intellectual property contentious at the best of times. In this global public health emergency, it seems inarguable that some of them should be set aside. Who can seriously object to copying ventilator parts so they can be used to save lives in this crisis? Similarly, if there were ever a moment for scientific journals to open up access to all paywalled research on coronaviruses to aid scientists all over the world, this is it.

But what about book authors, the vast majority of whom make only modest sums from their writing? This week, National Public Radio set off a Twitter storm when it highlighted the Internet Archive's "National Emergency Library". On Twitter, authors demanded to know why NPR was promoting a "pirate site". One wrote, "They stole [my book]." Another called it "Flagrant and wilful stealing." Some didn't mind: "Thrilled there's 15 of my books"; Longtime open access campaigner Cory Doctorow endorsed it.

The background: the Internet Archive's Open Library originally launched in 2006 with a plan to give every page of every book its own URL. Early last year, public conflict over the project built enough for net.wars to notice, when dozens of authors', creators', and publishers' organizations accused the site of mass copyright violation and demanded it cease distributing copyrighted works without permission.

The Internet Archive finds self-justification in a novel argument: that because the state of California has accepted it as a library it can buy and scan books and "lend" the digital copies without requiring explicit permission. On this basis, the Archive offers anyone two weeks to read any of the 1.4 million copyrighted books in its collection either online as images or downloaded as copy-protected Adobe Digital Editions. Meanwhile, the book is unavailable to others, who wait on a list, as in a physical library. The Archive's white paper by lawyers David Hansen and Kyle K. Courtney argues that this "controlled digital lending" is legal.

Enter the coronavirus,. On the basis that the emergency has removed access to library books from both school kids and adults for teaching, research, scholarship, and "intellectual stimulation", the Archive is dropping the controls - "suspending waitlists" - and is presenting those 1.4 million books as the globally accessible National Emergency Library. "An opportunistic attack", the Association of American Publishers calls it.

The anger directed at the Archive has led it to revise its FAQ (Google Doc) and publish a blog posting. In both it explains that you can still only "borrow" a book for 14 days, but no waitlists means others can, too, and you can renew immediately if you want more time. The change will last until June 30, 2020 or the end of the US national emergency, whichever is later. It claims support "from across the library and educational communities". According to the FAQ, the collection includes very few current textbooks; the collection is primarily ordinary books published between 1922 and the early 2000s.

The Archive still justifies all this as "fair use" by saying it's what libraries do: buy (or accept as donations) and lend books. Outside the US, however, library lending pays authors a small but real royalty on those loans, payments the Archive ignores. For the National Writers Union, Edward Hasbrouck objects strenuously: besides not paying authors or publishers, the Archive takes no account of whether the works are still in print or available elsewhere in authorized digital editions. Authors who have updated digital editions specifically for the current crisis have no way to annotate the holdings to redirect people. Authors *can* opt out -but opt-out is the opposite of how copyright law works. " Do librarians and archivists really want to kick authors while our incomes are down?" he asks, pointing to the NWU's 2019 explanation of why CDL is a harmful divergence from traditional library lending. Instead, he suggests that public funds should be spent to purchase or license the books for public use.

Other objectors make similar points: many authors make very little in the first place; authors with new books, the result of years of work, are seeing promotional tours and paid speaking engagements collapse. Others' books are being delayed or canceled. Everyone else involved in the project is being paid - just not the people who created the works in the first place.

At the New Yorker, writer Jill Lepore again cites Courtney, who argues that in exigent circumstances libraries have "superpowers" that allows them to grant exceptional access "for research, scholarship, and study". This certainly seems a reason for libraries of scientific journal articles, like JSTOR, to open up their archives. But is the Archive's collection comparable?

Overall, it seems to me there are two separate issues. The first is the service itself - the unique legal claim, the service's poor image quality and typo-ridden uncorrected ebooks, and the refusal to engage with creators and publishers. The second - that it's an emergency stop-gap - is more defensible; no one expected the abrupt closure of libraries and schools. A digital service is ideally placed to fill the resulting gaps, and ensuring universal access to books should be part of our post-crisis efforts to rebuild with better resilience. For the first, however, the Internet Archive should engage with authors and publishers. The result could be a better service for all sides.


Illustrations: Books (Abhi Sharma via wikimedia

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. Stories about the border wars between cyberspace and real life are posted occasionally during the week at the net.wars Pinboard - or follow on Twitter.