Private Tech Companies Are Making Law Enforcement's Opacity Problem Even Worse

from the 'for-the-people,'-not-'despite-the-people' dept

The increasing reliance on tech by law enforcement means the increasing reliance on private companies. It's inevitable that tech developments will be adopted by government agencies, but a lot of this adoption has occurred with minimal oversight or public input. That lack of public insight carries forward to criminal trials, where companies have successfully stepped in to prevent defendants from accessing information about evidence, citing concerns about exposed trade secrets or proprietary software. In other cases, prosecutors have dropped cases rather than risk discussing supposedly sensitive tech in open court.

Elizabeth Joh's new article for Science says corporations are making existing transparency and accountability problems in law enforcement even worse.

Private companies are often wary of divulging too much about their products to gain competitive advantage over rivals. As a consequence, companies may decide to protect their intellectual property and market advantages by invoking trade secret privileges, demanding nondisclosure agreements with customers, and imposing other forms of property protections. These forms of commercial secrecy, common enough outside of the criminal justice system, pose challenges to basic police accountability.

This is only one of the problems the adoption of private sector tech creates. There are others. As Joh points out, law enforcement officers often attest to their "training and expertise" when testifying in court or seeking warrants. But actual tech expertise is the exception, not the rule. Private companies market products to law enforcement agencies, but the rollout of purchased tech is rarely accompanied by immersive training. In some cases, any analytic work is offloaded to private contractors, making it even less likely the public will ever be fully apprised of how the tech works or why -- in the case of predictive policing software and facial recognition AI -- it arrives at the conclusions it does.

Saddled by non-disclosure agreements, normal police secrecy, claims of valuable trade secrets, and a lack of technical expertise by law enforcement end users, private company tech can become a black hole where data on citizens goes in, but never comes back out for public scrutiny.

Take, for example, ShotSpotter. Its sensors and microphones pick up percussive noises. These are transferred to ShotSpotter's analysts, who then make a judgment call about the overheard noises. Sometimes the analysts are wrong. Sometimes, more disturbingly, they alter their judgment calls after being contacted by police officers. How accurate is it? More importantly, how can the public access this data without relying on either ShotSpotter's cheery claims about high accuracy or secondhand intuition based on agencies who have dumped the tech after too many false positives?

The real answer may never be known.

[A] community or researcher who wants to know more about ShotSpotter—its accuracy and its flaws—may find a dead end. ShotSpotter’s contractual arrangements with its police customers provide them with results, and results only. The company claims ownership not just of its proprietary software but also of the data its technology generates. This means that conventional tools of disclosure, like state public records requests laws, have no purchase on any acoustic gunfire detection system because such systems remain within private hands.

For better or worse, the solution likely runs through local governments. These entities can forbid law enforcement agencies from purchasing tech from vendors unwilling to allow public scrutiny of their software and hardware. They can demand more transparency on usage and effectiveness from the agencies they oversee. The general public may not be able to take its law enforcement business elsewhere, but their elected reps can help ensure the agencies they're stuck with are more accountable.

The other check against misuse is the nation's courts. Judges can (and should) challenge more broad statements about law enforcement expertise and allow fewer companies whose tech has generated evidence to shirk their proxy obligations to criminal defendants, who have a constitutional right to examine the evidence against them and confront their accusers in court -- even if the accuser is a shot spotting sensor or a proprietary DNA-matching algorithm.

No one's saying cops shouldn't have access to tech advances. But governments need to do more to ensure these business relationships don't supersede law enforcement agencies' obligations to the public. Action needs to be taken now -- both at the local and national level -- to prevent ongoing problems from getting worse and to head off future abuses and injustices before they can occur.

Filed Under: evidence, law enforcement, technology, transparency

Virginia School Board Sues FOIA Recipients For Receiving FOIA'ed Documents It Handed To Them

from the nice-gov't-work-if-you-can-get-it dept

Yeah, it can suck when you fail to handle FOIA requests properly and give the public more information than you intended to. It sucks for the government. It doesn't suck for the public, which is rarely treated to anything more than the most minimal of transparency.

Unfortunately, government agencies don't always react well when they've screwed things up. Sometimes the blowback is limited to ineffectual shouting or paper waving. Sometimes, however, it's a lawsuit seeking a court order to prevent people from accessing (or sharing) documents they've legally obtained from a government agency.

Cut to Virginia, where it's the latter option being deployed:

A Virginia school board is suing two mothers, arguing that documents "inadvertently and mistakenly" released through a Freedom of Information Act request and shared online included confidential information.

The Goldwater Institute on Thursday filed a motion with a Virginia judge to dismiss a lawsuit filed by the Fairfax County School Board against Debra Tisler, who obtained documents from the board through a Freedom of Information Act request, and Callie Oettinger, who shared the redacted documents on her website.

The lawsuit [PDF] claims the Fairfax County Public School Board never meant to release the information it released, which included personal information about students. Federal law forbids the release of this information to unauthorized parties by government agencies.

But that means nothing in the context of this lawsuit. The School Board can be held liable by others for releasing this information. The recipients of this information did nothing wrong, despite the litigious protestations otherwise. The complaint is mostly a list of what the Board did wrong, including failing to subject the FOIA release to review by its legal counsel before sending a link to the Dropbox file to the records requesters.

To correct this, the Board repeatedly contacted the recipient. And it was continually ignored… up until it sent multiple physical notifications, at which point the recipient of all of these notifications told the School Board to stop harassing her.

Copies of these documents were posted publicly, but sensitive student data was redacted by the recipients. The Board felt this wasn't enough of a capitulation, so it took legal action, which then resulted in the removal of the files from the recipient's website.

The Board claims in its filing that it has a legal right to go back in time and undo its mistakes by forcing the FOIA requesters to basically pretend they never received the unredacted information. The Goldwater Institute has stepped in to represent the records requesters and its opposition motion [PDF] points out just how wrong the Board is about the law and the First Amendment.

Only the most pressing government interest—such as the publication of troop movements during wartime—can justify the imposition of such a restraint. Id. at 726 (Brennan, J., concurring). But no such interest is identified in the board’s Complaint or its motion for an injunction. On the contrary, the sole bases it asserts for blocking Ms. Oettinger and Ms. Tisler from disseminating the information are the fact that the board could have chosen to withhold some of this information under the VFOIA (though it did not do so), and that some of the documents could be covered by attorney-client privilege between the board and its attorneys. Complaint ¶¶ 40, 44. That is constitutionally insufficient and irrelevant.

The Board's demands are unconstitutional and there is no precedent that says otherwise.

They are government records, lawfully obtained, and Ms. Tisler and Ms. Oettinger have a right to disseminate them, as protected by the rule of Smith, New York Times, and Bartnicki. Even if the documents were inadvertently turned over, they have both a constitutional right and a legitimate democratic purpose for publishing them. For the government to demand that the documents be removed from publication—i.e., censored—is contrary to all constitutional precedent.

None of that precendent appears to matter to the court. It has already granted the Board's injunction.

Last week, a state judge issued an order barring the women from sharing the documents pending further order of the court, and Oettinger subsequently took the documents off her website.

Hopefully now that an adversarial party has entered the legal battle, the court will be forced to reconsider its granting of this injunction. The government should not be allowed to use courts like time machines to erase its mistakes. It should have to live with them, especially when the inadvertently-released documents deal with issues of public interest, like public school spending. The Board's arguments are mostly admissions of wrongdoing on its own part for which it should be held accountable. Instead it has asked the court to punish people who've done nothing wrong.

Filed Under: callie oettinger, debra tisler, fairfax county, foia, school board, transparency, virginia

Alabama Supreme Court Rules Law Enforcement Can Withhold Almost All Records Indefinitely

from the everything-is-an-investigation-when-you're-a-cop dept

Here's what you need to know about Alabama and its public records laws before we head to a depressing state Supreme Court opinion that makes everything worse:

Alabama has one of the weakest public records laws in the nation. Public bodies are not required to respond to requests from citizens and can charge exorbitant fees for producing documents. The only way to force an agency to produce a public document it refuses to release is to file a lawsuit.

As this opinion [PDF] shows, filing a lawsuit doesn't work either. Here's a summary of what the case involved, as well as its disappointing outcome, via the Montgomery Advertiser.

The Alabama Supreme Court on Friday ruled against a Mobile media outlet seeking law enforcement files related to a fatal police shooting, sparking a fervent dissent from the court's own chief justice regarding the state's public records law.

The court upheld a Baldwin County ruling in the case, in which Lagniappe Mobile sued for investigative records from the Baldwin County Sheriff’s Office related to the 2017 shooting of motorist Jonathan Victor. The high court ruled the records Lagniappe sought, including dash and body camera footage from the shooting, are all exempted from open records law due to their "investigative" nature, even though the investigation in the shooting has been closed.

That's right. The court said records that merely documented what had happened -- essential to an investigation but not investigatory records as most people would define the term -- can be withheld forever simply because they were once part of an investigation. Closing an investigation does not prevent law enforcement agencies from withholding records under the investigative privilege exemption.

This is, of course, an abhorrent translation of the state's public records statutes by the state's top court. It completely undermines the presumption of openness that guides public records laws, even those as terrible as Alabama's.

The dissent, written by Chief Justice Tom Parker, excoriates the majority for deciding the state's laws give state law enforcement permission to withhold almost all records forever. A long discussion of the majority's misreading of the statue culminates with this succinct summary:

Putting the pieces together from the above textual and precedential analysis, I believe that the best interpretation of "related investigative material" is as follows. "[R]elated investigative material" includes only records, created by law-enforcement officers, that reflect their efforts in an investigation. It does not include records that merely document an incident or records that are merely part of a process of observation and information collection.

As Justice Parker sees it, the investigative privilege exemption cannot possibly cover the camera footage sought by the newspaper as its nothing more than recorded observation. It also shouldn't have been given blanket coverage to other records sought, like coroner's reports (which are not compiled by law enforcement officers) or communications related to the case (because not all communications would be of an investigatory nature). But the Supreme Court said everything requested could be denied under this exemption.

Justice Parker says court precedent requires the court to define exemptions narrowly. Here, the court has done the opposite, expanding it to cover almost any record created, compiled, or held by a law enforcement agency.

The sweep of those pronouncements is breathtaking. In essence, all evidence in the possession of law-enforcement agencies, whether created by the agency or received from others, is now exempt from citizens' statutory right to access public records. Whatever that interpretation of the statute can be called, it cannot be called a narrow construction in favor of open records that Allen requires. [...] Under today's decision, to be exempted, a record need only be given to law-enforcement personnel and be somehow "related," no matter how tenuously, to a criminal investigation.

As Parker points out, the government officials being sued didn't even try to argue the statute provided coverage this broad. This is from the Sheriffs' brief:

To be clear, the [Sheriffs] are not asserting that [the investigative-privilege statute] provides a blanket exception for any and all materials that have been gathered by a law enforcement entity during the course of an investigation. Clearly, such a position would run afoul of this Court's instruction that the exception[] set forth in [the statute] should be narrowly construed. [Allen], 32 So. 3d at 1271.

But that's what the state's top court decided they should have: a blanket exception that denies the public access to almost every law enforcement record.

Justice Parker's dissent signoff is furious:

With one sweeping stroke, today's decision spells the end of public access to law-enforcement records that are connected in any way to an investigation. Hidden now from the public eye are body-cam videos, dashcam videos, 9-1-1 recordings, and anything else that is remotely connected to a crime or even potential crime. After today, as to law-enforcement agencies at least, the statute might as well be titled the Closed Records Act.

The special concurrence's protestations do nothing to lighten this heavy shroud. Of course government agencies are free to disclose records voluntarily, but that is not the point of the Open Records Act. Like law in general, the Act exists to compel people to do what they will not do voluntarily. So the fact that some people do not need the prod of the law in no way lessens the harm of removing that prod from those who do.

As furious as it is, it does nothing to change the new status quo. Justice Parker knows this, but isn't going to let this terrible decision escape the courthouse without noting his disappointment.

I cannot sit idly by while this Court shrinks a legal right of the people of Alabama to the vanishing point. And I especially cannot do so when that shrinkage flies in the face of text and precedent.

This leaves it up to the legislature to repair the damage done by the court. But Alabama has had terrible public records laws for years so it seems unlikely state legislators are in any hurry to make them better, much less decide they know better than the state highest court on how the current laws should be interpreted or altered.

Filed Under: alabama, law enforcement, public records, records, transparency

Why Section 230 'Reform' Effectively Means Section 230 Repeal

from the catalog-of-bad-ideas dept

Some lawmakers are candid about their desire to repeal Section 230 entirely. Others, however, express more of an interest to try to split this baby, and "reform" it in some way to somehow magically fix all the problems with the Internet, without doing away with the whole thing and therefore the whole Internet as well. This post explores several of the types of ways they propose to change the statute, ostensibly without outright repealing it.

And several of the reasons why each proposed change might as well be an outright repeal, given each one's practical effect.

But before getting into the specifics about why each type of change is bad, it is important to recognize the big reason why just about every proposal to change Section 230, even just a little bit, undermines it to the point of uselessness: because if you have to litigate whether Section 230 applies to you, you might as well not have it on the books in the first place. Which is why there's really no such thing as a small change, because if your change in any way puts that protection in doubt, it has the same debilitating effect on online platform services as an actual repeal would have.

This was a key point we keep coming back to, including in suggesting that Section 230 operates more as a rule of civil procedure than any sort of affirmative subsidy (as it is often mistakenly accused of being). Section 230 does not do much that the First Amendment would not itself do to protect platforms. But the crippling expense of having to assert one's First Amendment rights in court, and potentially at an unimaginable scale given all the user-generated content Internet platforms facilitate, means that this First Amendment protection is functionally illusory if there's not a mechanism to get platforms out of litigation early and cheaply. It is the job of Section 230 to make sure they can, and that they won't have to worry about being bled dry in legal costs having to defend themselves even where, legally, they have a defense.

Without Section 230 their only choice would be to not engage in the activity that Section 230 explicitly encourages: intermediating third party content, and moderating it. If they don't moderate it then their services may become a cesspool, but if the choice they face is either to moderate, or to potentially be bankrupted in litigation (or even, as in the case of FOSTA, potentially prosecuted), then they won't. And as for intermediating content, if they can get into legal trouble for allowing the wrong content, then they will either host less user-generated content, or not be in the business of hosting any user content at all. Because if they don't make these choices, they set themselves up to be crushed by litigation.

Which is why it is not even the issue of ultimate liability that makes lawsuits such an existential threat to an Internet platform. It's just as bad if the lawsuit that crushes them is over whether they were entitled to the statutory liability protection needed to avoid the lawsuit entirely. And we know lawsuits can have that annihilating effect when platforms are forced to litigate these questions. One conspicuous example is Veoh Networks, a video-hosting service who today should still be a competitor to YouTube. But it isn't a competitor because it is no longer a going concern. It was obliterated by the costs of defending its entitlement to assert the more conditional DMCA safe harbor defense, even though it won! The Ninth Circuit found the platform should have been protected. But by then it was too late; the company had been run out of business, and YouTube lost a competitor that, today, the marketplace still misses.

It would therefore be foolhardy and antithetical to lawmakers' professed interest in having a diverse ecosystem of Internet services were they to do anything to make Section 230 similarly conditional, thereby risking even further market consolidation than we already have. But that's the terrible future that all these proposals tempt.

More specifically, here's why each type of proposal is so infirm:

Liability carve-outs. One way lawmakers propose to change Section 230 is to deny its protection to specific forms of liability that may arise in user content. A variety of these liability carve-outs have been proposed, and all require further scrutiny. For instance, one popular carve-out with lawmakers is trying to make Section 230 useless against claims of liability for posts that allegedly violate anti-discrimination laws. But while on first glace such a carve-out may seem innocuous, we know that it's not. And one way it's not is because people eager to discriminate themselves have shown themselves keen to try to force platforms to help them do it, including by claiming that anti-discrimination laws serve to protect their own efforts to discriminate. So far they have largely been unable to conscript platforms into enabling their hate, but if Section 230 no longer protects platforms from these forms of liability, then racists will finally be able to succeed by exploiting that gap.

These carve-outs also run the risk of making it harder for people who have been discriminated against from finding a place to speak out about it, since it will force platforms to be less willing to offer space to speech that they might find themselves forced to defend, because even if the speech were defensible just having to answer for it can be ruinous for the platform. We know that they will feel forced to turn away all sorts of worthy and lawful speech if that's what they need to do to protect themselves, because we've seen this dynamic play out as a result of the few carve-outs Section 230 has had from the start. For example, if the thing wrong with the user expression was that it implicated an intellectual property right, then Section 230 didn't protect the platform from liability in their users' content. Now, it turns out that platforms have some liability protection via the DMCA, but this protection is weaker and more conditional than Section 230, which is why we see all the swiss cheese online with videos and other content so often removed – even in cases when they were not actually infringing – because taking it down is the only way platforms can avoid trouble and not run the risk of going the way of Veoh Networks themselves.

Such an outcome is not good for encouraging free expression online, which was a main driver behind passing Section 230 originally, and it isn't even good for the people these carve outs were ostensibly intended to help, which we saw with FOSTA, which was an additional liability carve-out more recently added. With FOSTA, instead of protecting people from sexual exploitation, it led to platforms taking away their platform access, which drove them into the streets, where they got hurt or killed. And, of course, it also led to other perfectly lawful content disappearing from the Internet, like online dating and massage therapy ads, since FOSTA had made it impossibly risky for the platforms to continue to facilitate it.

It's already a big problem that there are even just these liability carve-outs. If Section 230 were to be changed in any way, it should be changed to remove them. But in any case, we certainly shouldn't be making any more if Section 230 is still to maintain any utility in protecting the platforms we need to facilitate online user expression.

Transactional speech carve-outs. As described above, one way lawmakers are proposing to change Section 230 is to carve out certain types of liability that might attach to user-generated content. Another way is to try to carve out certain types of user expression itself. And one specific type of user expression in lawmakers' crosshairs (and also some courts') is transactional speech.

The problem with this invented exception to Section 230 is that transactional speech is still speech. "I have a home to rent" is speech, regardless of whether it appears on a specialized platform that only hosts such offers, or more general purpose platforms like Craigslist or even Twitter where such posts are just some of the kinds of user expression enabled.

Lawmakers seem to be getting befuddled by the fact that some of the more specialized platforms may earn their money through a share of any consummated transaction their user expression might lead to, as if this form of monetization were somehow meaningfully distinct from any other monetization model, or otherwise somehow waived their First Amendment right to do what basically amounts to moderating speech to the point where it is the only type of user content they allow. And it is this apparent befuddlement that has led to attempts by lawmakers to tie Section 230 protection to certain monetization models and go so far as to eliminate it for certain ones.

Even these proposals were carefully drafted such proposals they would only end up chilling e-commerce by forcing platforms to use less-viable monetization models. But what's worse is that the current proposals are not being carefully drafted, and so we end up seeing bills end up threatening the Section 230 protection of any platform with any sort of profit model. Which, naturally, they all need to have in some way. After all, even non-profit platforms need some sort of income stream to keep the lights on, but proposals like these threaten to make it all but impossible to have the money needed for any platform to operate.

Mandatory transparency report demands. As we've discussed before, it's good for platforms to try to be candid about their moderation decisions and especially about what pressures forced them to make these decisions, like subpoenas and takedown demands, because it helps highlight when these instruments are being abused. Such reports are therefore a good thing to encourage.

But encouragement is one thing; requiring them is another, but that's what certain proposals try to do in conditioning Section 230 protection to the publication of these reports. And they are all a problem. Making transparency reports mandatory is an unconstitutional form of compelled speech. Platforms have the First Amendment right to be arbitrary in their moderation practices. We may prefer them to make more reasoned and principled decisions, but it is their right not to. But they can't enjoy that right if they are forced to explain every decision they've made. Even if they wanted to, it may be impossible, because content moderation is happening at scale, which inherently means it will never be perfect, and it also may be ill-advised to be fully transparent because it teaches bad actors how to game their systems.

Obviously a platform could still refuse to produce the reports as these bills would prescribe. But if that decision risks the statutory protection the platform depends on to survive, then it is not really much of a decision. It finds itself compelled to speak in the way that the government requires, which is not constitutional. And it also would end up impinging on that freedom to moderate, which both the First Amendment and Section 230 itself protect.

Mandatory moderation demands. But it isn't just transparency in moderation decisions that lawmakers want. Some legislators are running straight into the heart of the First Amendment and demanding that they get to dictate how platforms get to do any of their moderation by conditioning Section 230 protection to the platforms making these decisions the way the government insists.

These proposals tend to come in two political flavors. While they are generally utterly irreconcilable – it would be impossible for any platform to simultaneously satisfy both of them at the same time – they each boil down to the same unconstitutional demand.

Some of these proposals reflect legislative outrage at platforms for some of the moderation decisions they've made. Usually they condemn platforms for having removed certain speech or even banned certain speakers, regardless of how poor their behavior or how harmful the things those speakers said. This condemnation leads lawmakers who favor these speakers and their speech to want to take away the platforms' right to make these sorts of moderation decisions by, again, conditioning Section 230 on their continuing to leave these speakers and speech up on these systems. The goal with these proposals is to set up the situation where it is impossible for platforms to continue to exercise their First Amendment discretion in moderation and possibly take them down, lest they lose the protection they depend on to exist. Which is not only unconstitutional compulsion, but also itself ultimately voids the part of Section 230 that expressly protects that discretion, since it's discretion that platforms can no longer exercise.

On the flip side, instead of conditioning Section 230 on not removing speakers or speech, other lawmakers would like to condition Section 230 on requiring platforms to kick off certain speakers and speech (and sometimes even the same ones that the other proposals are trying to keep up). Which is just as bad as the other set of proposals, for all the same reasons. Platforms have the constitutional right to make these moderation choices however they choose, and the government does not have the right, per the First Amendment, to force them to make them in any particular way. But if their critical Section 230 protection can be taken away if they don't moderate however the sitting political power demands at the moment, then that right has been impinged and Section 230 rendered a nullity.

Algorithmic display carve-outs. Algorithmic display has become a target for many lawmakers eager to take a run at Section 230. But as with every other proposed reform, changing Section 230 so that it no longer applies to platforms using algorithmic display would end up obliterating the statute for just about everyone. And it's not quite clear that lawmakers proposing these sorts of changes quite realize this inevitable impact.

And part of the problem seems to be that they don't really understand what an algorithm is, or how commonly they are used. They seem to regard it as something nefarious, but there's nothing about an algorithm that inherently is. The reality is that nearly every platform uses software in some way to handle the display of user-provided content, and algorithms are just the programming logic coded into the software giving it the instructions for how to display that content. Moreover, these instructions can even be as simple as telling the software to display the content chronologically, alphabetically, or some other relevant way the platform has decided to render content, which the First Amendment protects. After all, a bookstore can decide to shelve books however it wants, including in whatever order or with whatever prominence it wants. What these algorithms do is implement these sorts of shelving decisions, just as applied to the online content a platform displays.

If algorithms were to end up banned by making the Section 230 protection platforms need to host user-generated content contingent on not using them, it would make it impossible for platforms to actually render any of that content. They either couldn't do it technically, if they were to abide by this rule withholding their Section 230 protection, or legally if that protection were to be withheld because they used this display. Such a rule would also represent a fairly significant change to Section 230 itself by gutting the protection for moderation decisions, since those decisions are often implemented by an algorithm. In any case, conditioning Section 230 on not using algorithms is not a small change but one that would radically upend the statutory protection and all the online services it enables.

Terms of Service carve-outs. One idea (which is, oddly, backed by Facebook, even though it needs Section 230 to remain robust in order to defeat litigation like this) is that Section 230 protection should be contingent on platforms upholding their terms of service. As with these other proposals, this one is also a bad idea.

First of all, it negates the utility of Section 230 protection by making its applicability the subject of litigation. In other words, instead of being protected from litigation, platforms will now have to litigate whether they are protected from litigation, which means they aren't really protected at all.

It also fails to understand what terms of service are for. Platforms have them in order to limit their liability exposure. There's no way that they are going to write them in a way that has the effect of increasing their liability exposure.

The way they are generally written now is to put potentially wayward users on notice that if they don't act consistently with these terms of service, the service may be denied them. They aren't written to be affirmative promises to do anything because they can't be affirmative promises – content moderation at scale is impossible to do perfectly, so it would be foolish for platforms to obligate themselves to do the impossible. But that's what changing Section 230 in this way would do, create this obligation if platforms are to retain their needed protection.

This pipe dream that some seem to have, that if only platforms did more moderation in accordance with their terms of service as currently written, everything would be perfect and wonderful is hopelessly naïve. After all, nothing about how the Internet works is nearly that simple. Nevertheless, it is fine to want platforms to do as much as they can to meet the aspirational goals they've articulated in their terms of service. But changing Section 230 in this way won't lead them to. Instead it will make it legally unsafe for platforms to even articulate any such aspirations and thus less likely to meet any of them. Which means that regulators won't get more of what they seek with this sort of proposal, but less.

Pre-emption elimination. One of the key clauses that makes Section 230 useful is its pre-emption provision. This is the provision that tells states that they cannot rejigger their own state laws in ways that would interfere with the operation of Section 230. The reason it is so important is because it gives the platforms the certainty they need to be able to benefit from the statute's protection. For it to be useful they need to know that it applies to them and that states have no ability to mess with it.

Unfortunately we are already seeing increasing problems with state and local jurisdictions attempting to ignore this pre-emption provision, and courts even sometimes letting them. But on top of that there are proposals in Congress to deliberately undermine it. In fact, with FOSTA, it already has been undermined, with individual state governments now able to impose liability directly on platforms for their user activity, no matter how arbitrarily.

We see with the moderation bills an illustration of what is wrong with states getting to mess with Section 230 and make its protection suddenly conditional – and therefore effectively useless. Given our current political polarity, the problem should be obvious: how is any platform going to reconcile the moderation demands of a Red State with the moderation demands of a Blue State? What is an inherently interstate Internet platform to do? Whose rules should they follow? What happens to them if they don't?

Congress put in the pre-emption provision because it knew that platforms could not possibly comply with all the myriad rules and regulations that every state, county, city, town, and locality might develop to impose liability on platforms. So it told them all to butt out. It's a mistake to now gut that provision if Section 230 is going to still have any value in making it safe for platforms to continue to do their job enabling the Internet.

Filed Under: carve outs, content moderation, free speech, intermediary liability, reform, repeal, section 230, transparency

Tesla 'Self-Driving' NDA Hopes To Hide The Reality Of An Unfinished Product

from the I'm-sorry-Dave-I-can't-do-that dept

There isn't a day that goes by where Tesla hasn't found itself in the news for all the wrong reasons. Like last week, when Texas police sued Tesla because one of the company's vehicles going 70 miles per hour in self-driving mode failed to function properly, injuring five officers.

If you hadn't been paying attention, Teslas in self-driving mode crashing into emergency vehicles is kind of a thing that happens more than it should. In this latest episode of "let's test unfinished products on public streets," the Tesla vehicle in "self-driving" mode's systems failed completely to detect not only the five officers, but their dog, according to the lawsuit filed against Tesla:

“The Tesla was completely unable to detect the existence of at least four vehicles, six people and a German Shepherd fully stopped in the lane of traffic,” reads the suit. “The Tahoes were declared a total loss. The police officers and the civilian were taken to the hospital, and Canine Officer Kodiak had to visit the vet."

Of course for Musk fans, a persecution complex is required for club membership, resulting in the belief that this is all one elaborate plot to ruin their good time. That belief structure extends to Musk himself, who can't fathom that public criticism and media scrutiny in the wake of repeated self-driving scandals is his own fault. It's also extended to the NDAs the company apparently forces Tesla owners to sign if they want to be included in the Early Access Program (EAP), a community of Tesla fans the company selects to beta test the company's unfinished self-driving (technically "Level 2" driver-assistance system) on public city streets.

The NDA frames the press and transparency as enemies, and urges participants not to share any content online that could make the company look bad, even if it's, you know, true:

"This NDA, the language of which Motherboard confirmed with multiple beta testers, specifically prohibits EAP members from speaking to the media or giving test rides to the media. It also says: "Do remember that there are a lot of people that want Tesla to fail; Don't let them mischaracterize your feedback and media posts." It also encourages EAP members to "share on social media responsibly and selectively...consider sharing fewer videos, and only the ones that you think are interesting or worthy of being shared."

Here's the thing: you don't need to worry about this kind of stuff if you're fielding a quality, finished product. And contrary to what Musk fans think, people concerned about letting fanboys test 5,000 pound automated robots that clearly don't work very well are coming from a valid place of concern. Clips like this one, for example, which show the Tesla self-driving system failing to perform basic navigational functions while in self-driving mode, aren't part of some elaborate conspiracy to make Tesla self-driving look bad and dangerous. There's plenty of evidence now clearly showing that Tesla self-driving, at least in its current incarnation, often is bad and dangerous:

Ever since the 2018 Uber fatality in Arizona (which revealed the company had few if any meaningful safety protocols in place) it's been clear that current "self-driving" technology is extremely undercooked. It's also become increasingly clear that widely testing it on public streets (where other human beings have not consented to being used as Guinea pigs) is not a great idea. Especially if you're going to replace trained testers with criticism-averse fanboys you've carefully selected in the hopes they'll showcase only the most positive aspects of your products.

We've been so bedazzled by purported innovation we've buried common sense deep in the back yard. Wanting products to work, and executives to behave ethically, is not some grand conspiracy. It's a reasonable reaction to the reckless public testing of an unfinished, over-marketed product on public streets.

Filed Under: cars, nda, self-driving, transparency
Companies: tesla

Clearview Suffers Brief Bout Of Better Judgment, Drops Subpoena Demanding Activists' Communications With Journalists

from the keep-on-sucking dept

Just a few days ago, Clearview -- the company that scrapes the web to build a facial recognition database it sells to law enforcement, government agencies around the world, and a number of private parties -- decided to make itself even less likable.

It decided to subpoena transparency activists Open The Government, demanding copies of all FOIA requests it had made requesting info about Clearview. It also, more disturbingly, demanded copies of OTG's communications with journalists, clearly indicating it felt First Amendment protections were something it should enjoy, but shouldn't be extended to its critics.

It really wasn't a step Clearview needed to take… for several reasons. First of all, Clearview's reputation is pure dog shit at the moment. It's unlikely to improve unless the company pulls the plug on its product and disbands. A move like this only earns it more (deserved) disdain and hatred. What it's not going to do -- even if successful -- is deter future criticism of the business and its scraped-together facial recognition product.

Second, OTG was not a party to the lawsuit. Clearview has no right to demand these documents from a non-party, especially communications between it and journalists… journalists who are also not a party to the lawsuit Clearview is facing.

Third, if Clearview wanted copies of OTG's FOIA requests, all it had to do is visit OTG's MuckRock page and download all of its publicly accessible requests and responses.

There's some good news, though. Shortly after having shot itself in the face, Clearview had second thoughts about the self-inflicted wound it had just sustained. Here's Alexandra Levine for Politico.

Facial recognition company Clearview AI is dropping the subpoenas it served recently to some of the groups that first exposed its work with law enforcement — legal demands that sought the organizations’ correspondence with journalists and other records.

The best move would have been to never issue the subpoenas at all, especially given the First Amendment implications of attempting to pry loose communications between activists and journalists. This withdrawal is a distant second on the list of "Smart Things to Do."

And here's the rationale for the decision, straight from the mouth of Clearview's founder:

Clearview CEO Hoan Ton-That told POLITICO that “on further reflection about the scope of the subpoenas, and my strong view of freedom of the press, we have decided to withdraw the subpoenas served on Open the Government and its associates.”

I imagine that "reflection" showed a badly maimed face mouthing the word "why" after taking the full impact of an unforced error. This should have been the first response to the suggestion of subpoenaing non-parties and demanding copies of their conversations with journalists. It should have been offered by Clearview's legal team. And if those bright minds failed to comprehend the collateral damage this move would inflict on the First Amendment (not to mention the fact that Clearview would be sitting at ground zero when its own bomb went off), the genius who came up with the idea of treating millions of internet users as fodder for unproven facial recognition tech should have been able to see doing this was a terrible idea.

Then again, it may just be impossible for Clearview and its principals (note the spelling -- "principles" are different and not possessed by Clearview) to get a firm grasp on the obvious if it can't easily be scraped from content created by people with far more common sense than its founder and legal reps.

Filed Under: activism, facial recognition, foia, intimidation, journalism, subpoena, surveillance, transparency
Companies: clearview, open the government

Clearview Tosses Subpoena To Non-Party Transparency Advocates, Demands Copies Of Communications With Journalists

from the maybe-just-scrape-gmail-you-fucking-hacks dept

Clearview is currently being sued by a small percentage of its database of scraped personal info. It is also being sued by a few state officials over privacy law violations. It is (also) also being side-eyed closely by the federal government, which has not initiated an official investigation, but has expressed its disappointment in legislative ways.

One of dozens of lawsuits Clearview is hopefully being eventually bankrupted by has resulted in a bit of the old intimidation tactics. Clearview has made some inadvertently amusing arguments in court about its alleged right to do whatever the hell it wants to amass secondhand data as well as market access to whoever the hell it wants whenever the hell it wants. We'll see how that all plays out. In the meantime, Clearview is hoping to make others as miserable as it is. And if that means doing terrible things to long-recognized First Amendment protections, so be it.

Transparency advocate Open The Government has been hit with a subpoena from Clearview, which is defending itself against several plaintiffs alleging state law violations in an Illinois-based class action lawsuit. With its livelihood being barely threatened by an ongoing suit, Clearview has decided to threaten Open the Government, which is not involved in the lawsuit in any way.

In January 2020, Open The Government and MuckRock used public records requests to expose a start-up that was scraping Americans’ images and personal information from social media sites, and selling the data to law enforcement agencies. Now, that company, Clearview AI, has subpoenaed OTG and one of its employees to turn over all of the responses we received to Freedom of Information Act requests and all First Amendment protected communications we have had with the media about this matter.

This would be ironic if Clearview were capable of irony. But it isn't. Clearview claims it has a First Amendment right to scrape sites, clear cut data, and serve it up to whoever would like to pay for access. When it comes to the First Amendment rights and protections of others, it simply doesn't care.

As OTG points out, a bunch of what Clearview is demanding with this subpoena could be had simply by accessing its account at public records request clearinghouse Muckrock, where all of its requests targeting Clearview are located.

As for the rest of it -- the communications with the media -- Clearview has no right to access those… for several reasons. First, these are protected under the First Amendment. Second, THESE ARE PROTECTED UNDER THE FIRST AMENDMENT. Third, OTG and its media connections are not a party to this lawsuit. Fourth, if Clearview wants to know what government agencies know about it, it could search its own internal communications and, if it feels it's still missing something, file FOIA requests just like OTG did.

Clearview can defend itself without brushing aside the First Amendment to demand communications from a non-party to another non-party. If it's feeling the heat because its business model is built on site scraping and a complete disregard for due diligence, so be it. It dug this grave with billions of scraped images. That it refused to consider the implications of its acts under state and federal law is its own fault. Targeting sources of information that have contributed to months of negative coverage isn't going to make Clearview any more likeable or any more capable at defending itself in court.

Filed Under: foia, journalism, subpoena, transparency
Companies: clearview, open the government

CIA Director Mike Pompeo Touted Kidnapping, Killing Of Julian Assange In Response To Publication Of CIA Leaks

from the kill-'em-all-and-let-god-try-to-get-the-natsec-gag-order-lifted dept

As CIA director, Mike Pompeo decided Julian Assange and Wikileaks should be promoted to Public Enemy #1. With Wikileaks leaking leaked CIA secrets, Pompeo ratcheted up his rhetoric in response to the leaks. Finding himself frustrated by the US government's understandable reluctance to pull the trigger on prosecutions of arguable acts of journalism, the CIA director decided those constitutional concerns could be waved away with the proper national security designation.

During a 2017 speech at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, Pompeo -- who supported Wikileaks when it was airing the Democratic National Committee's dirty laundry -- unilaterally decided Assange was a threat unworthy of any constitutional protections.

WikiLeaks walks like a hostile intelligence service and talks like a hostile intelligence service. It has encouraged its followers to find jobs at CIA in order to obtain intelligence. It directed Chelsea Manning in her theft of specific secret information. And it overwhelmingly focuses on the United States, while seeking support from anti-democratic countries and organizations.

It is time to call out WikiLeaks for what it really is – a non-state hostile intelligence service often abetted by state actors like Russia. In January of this year, our Intelligence Community determined that Russian military intelligence—the GRU—had used WikiLeaks to release data of US victims that the GRU had obtained through cyber operations against the Democratic National Committee. And the report also found that Russia’s primary propaganda outlet, RT, has actively collaborated with WikiLeaks.

The rhetoric worked. A couple of months after this impromptu rant, the Senate Intelligence Committee decided Wikileaks was a certified Enemy of the People™:

The committee… wants Congress to declare WikiLeaks a “non-state hostile intelligence service,” which would open Julian Assange and the pro-transparency organization – which most of the U.S. government considers a handmaiden of Russian intelligence – to new levels of surveillance.

Some crazy shit, to be sure. But it gets crazier. While doing business as a division of Trump Holdings, LLC, the CIA and other agencies got high AF (presumably) and came up with all sorts of answers to the question, "How do you solve a problem like Maria Wikileaks?"

Some senior officials inside the CIA and the Trump administration even discussed killing Assange, going so far as to request “sketches” or “options” for how to assassinate him. Discussions over kidnapping or killing Assange occurred “at the highest levels” of the Trump administration, said a former senior counterintelligence official. “There seemed to be no boundaries.”

Welp. I guess this explains why the killing of Washington Post journalist Jamal Khashoggi by Saudi security forces was largely ignored by the Trump administration. The government had its own plans to do serious harm to a journalist it suddenly found inconvenient only months after embracing Assange and Wikileaks as truth-to-power-tellers when it leaked a virtual boatload of DNC emails.

That was only part of the wide-ranging proposals. Other suggestions went ahead as planned, though. The IC aggressively targeted Wikileaks, ramping up surveillance and seizing electronic devices from suspected members of the transparency group. Apparently every option was on the table, including extraordinary rendition.

This Yahoo News investigation, based on conversations with more than 30 former U.S. officials — eight of whom described details of the CIA’s proposals to abduct Assange — reveals for the first time one of the most contentious intelligence debates of the Trump presidency and exposes new details about the U.S. government’s war on WikiLeaks. It was a campaign spearheaded by Pompeo that bent important legal strictures, potentially jeopardized the Justice Department’s work toward prosecuting Assange, and risked a damaging episode in the United Kingdom, the United States’ closest ally.

Risk it, Pompeo didn't. A wise move, but probably not due to any actual wisdom Pompeo possesses. Kidnapping and/or killing a non-brown, non-Muslim so-called "enemy of the people" wouldn't have played well anywhere, possibly not even back home in one nation under Trump.

The CIA doesn't want to talk about this. Neither does Mike Pompeo, who seemed more than willing to do everything but drone strike the embassy Assange resided in prior to his arrest.

The plans never materialized or this post would never have been written. Instead, we'd have presented a long series of posts about the US deciding it was appropriate to kidnap or kill someone who published leaked documents -- the obvious and inevitable nadir of government power expansion under a variety of national security authorities.

That is was ever considered -- even momentarily -- shows just how dangerous the wrong person in the wrong position can be, especially when encouraged and coddled by an administration that openly displayed its hatred for the press. This is an authoritarian's spank bank. It should never have been allowed to escape this fantasy world and become a regrettable part of the history the ostensibly free world.

Filed Under: assassination, ceo, intelligence, julian assange, leaks, mike pompeo, transparency
Companies: wikileaks

California Legislators Continue To Anger Cops By Introducing Legislation Demanding More Transparency And Accountability

from the GOOD dept

An immense amount of reform has hit cops in California over the last few years.

The state very recently made it possible for public records requesters to obtain records about police misconduct -- something that had been statutorily-shielded for decades. That, of course, made local law enforcement agencies unhappy. They sued. They let the state Attorney General argue against the interests of California residents. They fucked around and found out. And yet, they still pretended they could shred their way through this.

There's more reform on the horizon. If cops didn't like having their misconduct records being made available to the public, they're really not going to like what's coming next. The general public could have access to even more records -- ones that may confirm assumptions about cops and their motivations.

In the two years since a state transparency law went into effect, San Francisco police have released previously secret disciplinary records from dozens of police shootings and a few incidents of police misconduct.

Now the same state lawmaker behind Senate Bill 1421 is pushing new legislation that would expand the scope of disclosable records beyond the current parameters, which only include shootings and proven allegations of dishonesty or sexual assault.

The new legislation, Senate Bill 16 by Sen. Nancy Skinner, D-Berkeley, would also require police to disclose cases involving sustained findings of bias or discrimination and unlawful searches or arrests.

All this bill needs is the governor's signature. That law enforcement failed to have this killed before it could make its way to the governor's desk perhaps indicates their unions and lobbyists are no longer as powerful as they once were. And police officers have no one to blame but themselves for the lack of sympathy displayed by politicians and the public they were supposed to be serving for all these years.

BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE.

Let's sit back and enjoy the vicarious anguish of government employees who've gotten away with so much for so long. More trouble is on the way for the supposedly small group of "bad apples." (Cop shops love their bad apples, btw.)

Senate Bill 2, authored by Senator Steven Bradford (D-Gardena), would remove some immunity provisions for law enforcement and peace officers, as well as public entities employing them who are being sued because of something they did.

Under the bill, if former officers are convicted of a felony, they can never return to any kind of peace officer position. Although, those who are later found to be innocent, or if their conviction is reversed or expunged, can. Likewise, applicants to law enforcement positions would be disqualified immediately if they are found to have committed crimes against public justice, such as bribery, falsification of records, and perjury, or if they had previously had peace officer certification revoked.

This seems so obvious it shouldn't be controversial. Bad cops shouldn't be allowed to become sign-able free agents if they've violated the law. They're in the law enforcement business. If they can't follow the law, they shouldn't be able to call themselves law enforcement officers.

Of course, there's incoherent opposition.

Opposing lawmakers, as well as many law enforcement organizations, have charged that the bill leaves police officers at the risk of being denounced due to revenge against being the arresting officer, as well as bias concerns on the decertification board due to it being mostly members of the public.

“It is grossly unfair,” said Republican Assemblyman Kelly Seyarto (R-Murrieta) on Friday. “None of the other 46 states [with decertification boards] have a similar composition. None of them are this lopsided.”

I don't even know what "due to revenge against being the arresting officer" is supposed to mean. And the Assemblyman's comments do nothing to clarify the complaints. All it does is amplify the outrage officers are apparently feeling in response to being forced to be both accountable and transparent while collecting paychecks written by the public.

If you can't handle the heat, give up your pensions and GTFO of the kitchen. It's time cops were given as much scrutiny as retail workers. If they can't handle that, they've got plenty of options in the private sector.

Filed Under: accountability, california, police, transparency