a typical thread of comments on Google+

I joined Google+ before it rolled out to the public last year, in its initial trial. At first, I was pretty excited: In the beginning, my fellow Plussers (for lack of a better term) were mostly San Franciscans, geeks, journalists, and policy wonks, and for a few weeks it felt like some weird elite playground (or a first class airport lounge). Once the platform opened up to the public, it was still fun for a little while, and as you know, I was flattered to be added to Google+’s “recommended users list,” not least because it gave me a taller pedestal from which to shout about digital rights.

And then the #nymwars happened. And while I’ve always been staunchly in favor of online anonymity, I tried for awhile to see it from the other side. Except, as my following on Google+ grew, it became more and more difficult. Why? Well, here’s the thing:

People with “real” names say lots of stupid stuff too.

With over 450,000 followers, you’re sure to get some spam and nonsense. But what I’ve found is that, on Google+, most of my comments are spam and nonsense, despite the fact that I’ve spotted myself in the circles of some pretty great people. More notably? Most of the nonsense comes from people with “name-shaped” names, be they “real” or otherwise.

Last week, Google+ announced two new things: The first, support for pseudonymous people with a significant following, to even out the criticism that “Snoop Dogg gets to use a pseudonym but fairly well-known hackers/artists/geeks don’t.” This is great news for those folks, but most of those folks aren’t too secretive about their identities. We’re talking Xeni Jardin and Violet Blue, not Chinese dissidents.

The second thing is that people with “name-shaped pseudonyms” will no longer have to go through the rigamarole of Google’s name appeals process. This is great too, and here’s why: I used to criticize Facebook’s real name policy by saying that it was unevenly applied, in that famous folks like Michael Anti would get removed while hundreds of Santa Clauses were allowed to remain. Now, on Google+ anyway, a Michael Anti (a “name-shaped pseudonym”) can stay up, but JoeSchmo1657 probably can’t.

Now, this does indeed solve my biggest pseudonym concern, which is that dissidents/activists often need a level of pseudonymity to remain safe online. So that’s good. But my views on anonymity–which shifted a bit last year when tested by Google+–have become more militant of late, and here’s why:

There are hundreds of thousands of people, using either their “real” names or “name-shaped pseudonyms,” that are providing little to no value to my network.

The above represents a good day. On a bad day, the comments are filled with spam, sexual harassment, and other nonsense. And sure, I could stop posting publicly, but what’s the point of having 489,000 followers if you don’t share with them?

What this demonstrates, to me, is that Google really has no reason not to allow JoeSchmo1576 and HaCkeRdUdE from starting up accounts. What Google is trying to do isn’t “maintain civility.” It’s trying not to be MySpace. It’s not a matter of behavior, it’s a matter of aesthetic. So long as you “look like a name,” you’re fine.

Except I’m not. I’m allegedly one of your most valued users and I’m unhappy with your service. It’s bringing attention to my work and EFF’s work for sure, and I thank you for that Google, but it’s not giving me any personal enjoyment…for that, I continue to turn to Facebook and Twitter.

We haven’t yet used this ability, but if and when we are required to withhold a Tweet in a specific country, we will attempt to let the user know, and we will clearly mark when the content has been withheld. As part of that transparency, we’ve expanded our partnership with Chilling Effects to share this new page, http://chillingeffects.org/twitter, which makes it easier to find notices related to Twitter.

It’s been difficult to comment on the move given the extreme reaction by Twitter’s own community. Lots of “I told you so” from the conspiracy theorists who think that this is because of Saudi Prince Alwaleed’s stake in the company, compounded by the #occupy crowd continuing to claim their hashtag was censored in Twitter’s trending topics made me want to avoid the subject entirely. But alas.

Let’s be clear: This is censorship. There’s no way around that. But alas, Twitter is not above the law.  Just about every company hosting user-generated content has, at one point or another, gotten an order or government request to take down content.  Google lays out its orders in its Transparency Report.  Other companies are less forthright.  In any case, Twitter has two options in the event of a request: Fail to comply, and risk being blocked by the government in question, or comply (read: censor).  And if they have “boots on the ground”, so to speak, in the country in question?  No choice.

In the event that a company chooses to comply with government requests and censor content, there are a number of mitigating steps the company can take.  The most important, of course, is transparency, something that Twitter has promised.  Google is also transparent in its content removal (Facebook? Not so much).  Twitter’s move to geolocate their censorship is also smart, given the alternative (censoring it worldwide, that is) – particularly since it appears a user can manually change his or her location.

I understand why people are angry, but this does not, in my view, represent a sea change in Twitter’s policies.  Twitter has previously taken down content–for DMCA requests, at least–and will no doubt continue to face requests in the future.  I believe that the company is doing its best in a tough situation…and I’ll be the first to raise hell if they screw up.

Only now do I understand why a former colleague in Morocco, upon arriving there from Cairo, felt Moroccan cities to be provincial.  Cairo, on the other hand, is anything but.

I just returned on Sunday from one all-too-short week in Cairo.  I was there for Yahoo!’s Change Your World Summit, an event that brought together women

An ad agency uses revolutionary symbolism to promote Egyptian tourism

from Egypt and around the region, to speak about online safety, but stayed for a few (too few, really) days extra, in order to meet with activists, organizations, and of course, friends.

My interest in Egypt stems from the bloggers and activists I’ve met over the years who come from there.  Prior to and during the revolution, they were my lens into Cairo, and on January 25, 2011, when nearly all of them took to the streets, I did my best to support them from my perch in Cambridge, repeating their words from Twitter and phone calls and redirecting media in their direction whenever possible.  But beyond the story of the Egyptian Internet (about which I have some authority), I am no expert, a fact made all the more apparent by my first visit to the country last week.

First Impressions

If at any point I sound orientalist or naive, allow me to explain: Most of my time in the region has been spent in its less-developed cities and countries.  My point of comparison is not Beirut but Meknés; I therefore live each new experience shadowed by my years in Morocco, my point of comparison for the region as if it were my homeland.

I was utterly impressed everywhere I stepped by the utter vibrancy of Cairo.  The graffiti that graced the walls and buildings of Zamalek and downtown that–as my friends pointed out–didn’t exist before the revolution, has become a multi-layered narrative at points: in one spot, a tank–once just a tank–is now crushing protesters; added to that a crowd of Egyptians waving their flags.  The cafés and bars of the city’s centers vary from old and smoky to fresh, modern (and smoky) but are visited by both men and women, often in fairly equal numbers.

Before traveling, friends–many of whom had been to both Morocco and Egypt–warned me in numbers of Cairo’s street harassment, its untiring vendors, its poverty.  The latter I only witnessed briefly, in drives through the city, and therefore cannot comment.  But as for the rest, I fear Cairo’s reputation is at least somewhat unearned.

I asked an American friend who has lived in Cairo for a few years if the lack of harassment I experienced was a side effect of the revolution. She said that she’d never felt unsafe, had never been sexually harassed on the city’s streets.  Another friend, a native Egyptian who’d spent much of her life abroad said she had, but that it’s not as bad as foreigners are lead to believe.  “And anyway, they’re scared of us now,” she explained, referring to the women’s marches that had taken place throughout the year.

The vendors and faux guides were another story: On Friday, I went to the pyramids alone in the afternoon, knowing that the day of prayer would minimize traffic in Giza.  I hadn’t even arrived when the harassment started.  Men would approach the taxi, lean in, and tell me “The pyramids are closed today, ma’am, but I’ll take you to a shop” or “I work at the pyramids, you can pay me as your guide.”  Some had fake ID cards.  I pity the silly foreigners who don’t read ahead.  After purchasing my ticket and heading inside, I expected things to get better, but in fact, they quickly got worse.  Young men with postcards and trinkets bombarded me with attention, while more “guides” attempted to sell me their services for a “mere 200 pounds.”  Harassed, and exhausted, I quickly made my way behind the first pyramid to stage a photo and snare my prey…

Having lived in Morocco for several years, I’m no newbie, and so whipped out a timeless old strategy.  I cannot, of course, divulge, but let’s just say it involves finding the oldest male guide you can, faking a certain identity, and paying him the most you’re willing to shell out, in exchange for him giving you a decent tour and…most importantly, warding off the rest of the harassment.  It worked – $20 and a small bottle of perfume from his “friend’s” shop later, I was on my way back home complete with a memory card full of photos.

Graffiti in Zamalek depicting Alaa Abd El Fattah (and the "#nomiltrials" symbol)

My guide wasn’t too forthcoming with his political opinions but after a decent amount of conversation, I was able to discern that he was simultaneously happy about the ouster of Mubarak and wary of the continued protests.  I asked him about the old regime; “if you had three horses and three children and had to choose which to feed, what would you do?” he responded, elaborating on the corruption of the Mubaraks.  “But,” he added, “the shabab need to give it time.”

Aside from the guide, a few cab drivers, and my hotel staff, however, my interactions were limited to the Twitterati.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, of course: I was fascinated to hear, over beers, the intricacies in differing opinions between this and that group.  And aside from that, of course, it was wonderful to finally meet so many of the people I’ve interacted with – some since January 25, and some long before.

I only wish I’d had more time: time enough to observe the protests, time enough to see if my friends’ predictions were to come true…but alas, work calls, and I’m grateful for the bit of time I did get to spend in um al-dunya.

The Revolution Continues

There were plenty of other elements to my trip, and not all are fit for print.  Those that are–namely, those pertaining to the days leading up to today, the anniversary of the revolution–I have been unable to fit into the above narrative and will therefore lay out in bullet points; forgive me.

• Kazeboun, or “liars,” is a campaign whereby activists, armed with a projector and a screen, take up public spaces to show videos made for and about the revolution.  Many of my friends and acquaintances (several of whom do not, contrary to my own pre-formed beliefs, know each other) spoke highly of these efforts, and had taken part in them.  The Daily News Egypt has a short descriptive piece about Kazeboun here, noting how the project “implicitly highlights the importance of public space and its usage to voice political dissent.”
• Journalism: As an observer for the past year, I’ve been very curious as to how Egyptians have perceived the foreign media’s coverage of the revolution.  And while this subject, frankly, deserves its own blog post, I was surprised to learn that aside from the old establishment (Friedman and his outlet in particular), the American media seems to have done a fair job in representing public opinion–contrast that with Syria, for example.  Of course, there are plenty of instances deserving of criticism, but I was a bit surprised that the American media wasn’t the butt of more jokes.
• The Mosireen collective, which I had the pleasure of visiting, has a great space that’s open most days from noon until 10pm.  Though I dropped by when it was empty, the collective offers training, technical support, film screenings, and even lends out equipment to would-be filmmakers.  Their YouTube channel, I was reminded repeatedly during my visit, is among the top 5 of Egyptian NGOs and has received more than 2 million hits since its inception.
• The release of blogger Maikel Nabil, which happened today, was an interesting point of discussion.  I was with a number of people on Saturday night
  

  A mural memorializing January 25

  when it was first announced, and their views were largely skeptical–as in, “the military is only doing this to look good.”  This sentiment is what I’ve seen echoed all day on Twitter.  Throughout the past ten months of Nabil’s detention, I’ve had a number of private conversations about how the blogger has received little support compared to others because of his pro-Israel views; though that is apparently true, there are a number of people who’ve been fighting hard for his release, as well as the release of others subject to military trials this past year.

• The question of protest.  I arrived on a Tuesday and spent Wednesday asking people what they thought was going to happen on Friday.  Most said nothing, or that they were not personally going to Tahrir until the 23rd, but nevertheless, Friday actually had considerable turnout.  I spent the 23rd on a plane, and so was unable to follow along with tweets as I usually do, but am keeping my friends–the vast majority of whom planned to hit the streets tomorrow–close in my mind today.

Today the Supreme Court will hear arguments in FCC v. FOX to determine whether regulation of “indecent” content on broadcast television violates the First Amendment. This case has been up to the Supreme Court before; in 2009, the Court held that the FCC’s decision to fine FOX for broadcasting profanity (called “fleeting expletives”) during live award shows (the 2002 and 2003 Billboard Music Awards) was not “arbitrary and capricious”, and so did not violate the Administrative Procedures Act that governs how federal agencies can make and change their policies. (CDT filed a brief in both the 2009 and 2011 cases.)

This time around, the Court is addressing a different question: whether FCC regulation of indecent (but not illegal) over-the-air content is consistent with the First Amendment. In the 1978 Pacifica case, the Court held that because broadcast media was “uniquely pervasive” in American culture, serving as the principle source for news and entertainment in a time before 500-channel cable packages, and acted as an uncontrollable “intruder” into the home, it was appropriate for the government to put some limits on what type of content could travel through the airwaves.

Regardless of whether this rationale made sense in 1978, it no longer applies in the media environment of 2012. As we argue in our coalition brief, the centrality of broadcast content has waned in the face of other content sources (including cable, video-on-demand, and the Internet). At the same time, parents have never had a greater ability to set their own limits and controls on the type of content they believe is most suitable for their families. As the court recognized in Reno v ACLU, user empowerment tools that give individuals the power to set their own content restrictions are a less restrictive means to achieve the goal of protecting children than broad government content regulations of constitutionally protected speech. As the Court considers the arguments it hears today, we urge it to consider the changed technological circumstances of the past three decades, and extend to broadcast content the same level of First Amendment protection afforded to other speech.

And with that, I give you this:

So, last week I posted about a debate in Los Angeles, as framed by the LA Times. Now, I’ll tackle a somewhat tangential issue: The use of commercial software by libraries, schools, and other government-funded entities and the implications of that usage.

Recently, the ACLU and the ACLU of Eastern Missouri filed suit against the Salem (MO) public library for unconstitutionally blocking access to websites discussing minority religions by improperly classifying them as “occult” or “criminal.” According to the ACLU:

Salem resident Anaka Hunter contacted the ACLU after she was unable to access websites pertaining to Native American religions or the Wiccan faith for her own research. After protesting to the library director, Glenda Wofford, portions of the sites were unblocked, but much remained censored. Wofford said she would only allow access to blocked sites if she felt patrons had a legitimate reason to view the content and further said that she had an obligation to report people who wanted to view these sites to the authorities.

Other sites blocked by the library’s Netsweeper software include the official webpage of the Wiccan church, the Wikipedia entry pertaining to Wicca, Astrology.com and The Encyclopedia on Death and Dying, which contains viewpoint-neutral discussions of various cultures’ and religions’ ideas of death and death rituals.

Let’s start here: CIPA, as I mentioned, requires the blocking of obscene content and content deemed ‘harmful to minors.’ The latter is problematic in its vagueness, particularly when dealing with libraries, where adults are commonly patrons of the Internet. Yes, CIPA allows for a user aged 18+ to request a site be unblocked, but that patron should not have to go to unreasonable lengths to make that happen. And if the allegations in the ACLU’s case are accurate, then Wofford seems to have gone far beyond the scope of her job in claiming that she was required to report the customer’s request.

But more problematic to me is the categorization of the sites requested. The ACLU case alleges that the Salem Public Library had classified sites about Wicca and Astrology as “occult” or even “criminal.” It’s unlikely, however, that Salem had anything to do with the former (or even, perhaps the latter). Rather, Salem likely bought their filtering software (in this case, from Canadian company Netsweeper) out of the box. If true, then all they had to do was choose which categories to block.

As you well know, this is a sensitive subject for me ever since Websense erroneously categorized this very site as pornography. I know how these things work: They’re part automated, part categorized by minimum wage staff. It’s a boring job and mistakes are bound to happen. But a whole occult category? What is this, 1956? But I digress…

What I find problematic is how much control these private companies–and particularly, though not only, Netsweeper–have over what we view. As Helmi Noman pointed out last year, Netsweeper’s categorization of Tumblr.com as a pornographic sites (apparently 50% of the pages hosted on Tumblr are pornographic in nature!) resulted in the blogging platform being blocked in four countries (and, most likely, the Salem Public Library too).

More alarming is that these filtering tools can easily be gamed. My blog was categorized by Websense as pornography because of one post with an outrageous amount of comment spam that included outlinks to porn sites. If I wanted to get your site blocked by the Salem Public Library, all I’d need to do is drop a bunch of porn on it, easy-peasy.

Again, I digress. And lest my line of commentary be perceived as too narrow, I stumbled upon a great post this afternoon by Jason Pitzl-Waters laying out the other implications of this case. Some of the comments are fascinating as well.

The first, a talk from my friend Ethan Zuckerman at the University of British Columbia:

I’ve tapped out–imperfectly–a few excerpts for those of you who don’t watch videos:

In reference to how the ‘Arab Spring’ began:

Thinking about social media by itself simply as a way to get information out there is probably inadequate … We have to start thinking about the ecosystem.  We have to start thinking about this idea that what participatory media does is make it possible for people to create media at very low cost, and then if they’re able to use that complicated network, it’s possible–sometimes and not always–to get that media out and get it amplified to the point where it reaches enough people that you’re able to have a coordinating function, where people in Tunisia are able to say ‘We’ve never seen this before.  We’ve seen protests, but not like this.  The fact that it’s spreading from one town to another is unprecedented and that’s something I want to be a part of’  That’s how it moves, from involving a small number of people in a town to being capable of taking down a government.  So if that story’s true–I believe it is, and it’s worth taking a close look at–it’s a way of explaining what is a really tough mystery–how something leaves a small town and reaches the world–we have to ask the question: ‘Is there something special about Facebook?’

On the purpose of social media:

The purpose of Web 2.0 is to share cute pictures of kitty-cats. And I say that, and you think I’m joking, but I’m not. It’s not epiphenomenal that the video of the cat flushing the toilet goes out on YouTube and everyone is laughing at it…that’s the point of Web 2.0.

And, in reference to the Malaysian online public sphere:

…The same tools that are helping other people share cute photos of cats are finding these people a way to have a digital public sphere…not the kind of space they can have in the real world, which is too dangerous…but online, there was a capability to carve out a space for free speech.

And finally, and this is key:

“[Some of the tools, like Tor, being built by experts are utterly essential but] I worry that we don’t take these ‘cute cat tools’ seriously enough. These tools that anyone can use, that are used 99% of the time for completely banal purposes, purposes that you and I may find incredibly boring unless it’s the exact interest we care about. There are some reasons why these ‘cute cat tools’–like Twitter, Flickr, Facebook, any tool that allows people to create and share original content and have many millions of users–are important…

…When the assumption is that you just want to get cute cat pictures, you spend a lot of time making these tools very usable…which results in these tools being usable even if you don’t speak the language, even if you’re not the intended audience. And because these tools are used by hundreds of millions of people, there’s a good chance that when someone gets involved in activism, these are the tools they’ll use.

The second, an article from Forbes on how Twitter specifically affected corporate decisions in 2011. An excerpt:

It started last year, when Gap proposed a new logo that was universally derided on Twitter, Tumblr and more. Gap’s new logo, which featured a white background and a small blue square, was mocked and parodied on all forms of social media, prompting campaigns to restore the original logo. Within a week of introducing the new logo design, the company had returned to its traditional blue and white square. It set the tone for a 2011 full of company reversals, spurred by vocal online backlash.

“Lady Chatterley’s Lover” was once considered pornography, not just unsuitable for a library but illegal to sell in some countries a little more than half a century ago. Banning materials from the library because the majority of people find them distasteful is a dicey step. What might the majority find unsuitable next? Something that you want to read, perhaps? Yet all patrons to the library should be able to search for books and videos without patently offensive material shining across the room at them.

Whose rights matter more?

Now, thanks to the Children’s Internet Protection Act (CIPA), K-12 schools as well as libraries that accept certain federal funding are required to have an Internet safety policy in place, which includes blocking obscene content, as well as content deemed ‘harmful to minors.’  And yet, the law also provides that a school or library may ‘disable the the technology protection measure concerned, during use by an adult, to enable access for bona fide research or other lawful purpose,’ making the full range of Internet content available to adults in libraries. Libraries that don’t receive funding aren’t bound to CIPA, and I’m not sure the extent to which those libraries censor (or not).  The Times, then, is asking whether library Internet censorship (of lewd content) should become standard.

Here’s my take, in a word: No.  I have no real problem with CIPA, as it offers provisions for adults to access all content.  And in this particular case, of what I assume to involve a library not bound by CIPA, the masturbating library patron is already committing a crime, meaning that the individual–not the content–is the real problem.

It’s not that I think watching porn in a library is appropriate (to each their own, but I’m going to go with “no” on that question), but that I don’t believe there to be a filtering tool out there in the world that would censor pornography without having overreaching effects.  As the Times rightly points out, Lady Chatterley’s Lover was once considered pornographic; therefore, where would the line be drawn?  Would images of nude adults be blocked too?  Surely, that’s censorship.  What about content that provides sexual education?  Kids who grow up with parents who refuse to talk about sex need access to that kind of content in public libraries.

In other words, if someone could build a tool that would effectively block hardcore pornography in public libraries without having the effect of overblocking, I’d be willing to have this discussion.  Until then, no way.

Additional reading:

• The American Library Association (ALA) Bill of Rights.
• The ALA fact sheet on Internet use in libraries.

But forget the personal – 2011 was an incredible year, period.  I watched from afar as my friends in Tunis and Cairo took part in the powerful revolutions that  toppled governments.  I also watched as friends in Damascus and Manama suffered the wrath of their regimes, and as friends in Casablanca experienced great disappointments.  And I watched friends–four, in fact–get jailed, in Egypt, Syria, and Bahrain.

2012 already promises challenges: SOPA is still under consideration, American companies are still selling surveillance equipment to authoritarian governments, bloggers are still under threat, Egypt is still under military rule, Syria is still a mess…the list goes on.  But–as luck would have it–these are the types of challenges I look forward to taking on.

Personally, I’m looking forward to more travel, more time with friends, and more accomplishments.  I avoid resolutions–aside from a small one, this year, to eat more vegetables–but it never hurts to attempt more thoughtfulness.

To 2012!

The next morning I awoke to dozens of tweets and emails (which were, it is worth noting, all from someone at the same New Jersey IP address who clearly doesn’t understand how anonymity [doesn't] work) attacking me for “supporting” the outing of an anonymous blogger. Reading into it further, I discovered that I’d been right: the whole thing was a setup designed to entrap Silverstein, who fell right for it. Despite that, I continued to be bombarded by slanderous comments attacking me and the organization for which I work.

Now, before I continue to today’s developments, let me point out a few things:

a) I don’t actually know Richard Silverstein. So while EFF has been derided as a “supporter” of his, the only connection is the fact that I am friends with his very public Facebook profile and that I occasionally read his blog. On my own, personal, time.

b) I did not, and do not, support Silverstein (or anyone’s) outing of an anonymous blogger, regardless of personal politics or personal opinion of another person.

c) None of my comments have had anything to do with politics, and I resent being accused of such. Contrary to “Aussie Dave”‘s claims, we have spoken in the past, and, having read his blog, I don’t like the guy, but…

d) Once again, that has no bearing on his right to be anonymous.

So, this brings me to today. On my way out of the house a couple of hours ago, I checked my mobile to see if Twitter was back online after maintenance, and sure enough, it was. And checking my mentions, I learned (from Aussie Dave himself) that Silverstein had “outed” Aussie Dave, this time for real, posting a slew of personal information including a link to his real Facebook profile, which included photographs of his children.

It would appear that Silverstein discovered Aussie Dave’s identity using a very basic WHOIS tool that allows one to see the domain history of a given URL. And while Aussie Dave later used proxies to renew his domain, he initially bought it using his real name and email address. Silverstein then linked that to other personal information that was publicly available online.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I neither support nor approve of this, and I sincerely hope Aussie Dave and his family are not at any real risk for it.

That said, for the benefit of all of the other anonymous bloggers out there, a few things need to be said. First, in respect to EFF’s work, as EFF has unfairly been derided by some bloggers, despite having had nothing whatsoever to do with this. Several bloggers have pointed to EFF’s Anonymity issue page, noting that we work to protect anonymous bloggers. This is true. But read further, and you will note the following:

We’ve challenged many efforts to impede anonymous communication both in the courts or the legislatures. We also previously provided financial support to the developers of Tor an anonymous Internet communications system. By combining legal and policy work with technical tools we hope to maintain the Internet’s ability to serve as a vehicle for free expression.

EFF’s actual work in this area is mostly limited to the above: ensuring anonymity remain a legal option on the Internet and providing or supporting tools to help bloggers and other Internet users achieve that goal.

On a personal level, I believe very much in these principles. And yet, with my single, lazy comment of “oh good” I’ve been deemed–in the eyes of Aussie Dave’s crowd–someone who “cheers on” the outing of bloggers I disagree with, someone who goes against my principles, and all sorts of other absurd things I won’t even dignify with a response.

So, do I believe that Aussie Dave is entitled to those rights just like anyone else? Yes, I do. But, just like anyone else, it is his responsibility to protect his own identity online. If you choose to be anonymous, the law should protect that as your right, but the responsibility is on you as an individual to ensure you take all of the necessary precautions to remain anonymous. I can certainly say that I don’t think what Silverstein did is cool, but for all of the anonymous bloggers out there who might be reading, please note: Everything he did involved publicly available information.

Aussie Dave has asked me to call on Silverstein to take down the personal information, in my professional capacity. This is a grave misunderstanding of what I do. In my personal capacity, I certainly could, but I’m not sure what good it would do at this point. Once an anonymous blogger links his personal information to his blog, he has taken a huge risk. And, however unfortunate, once that connection has been made public, it is on the Internet to stay.

Legally, I’m not sure what paths of recourse Aussie Dave might have (I’m not a lawyer). I offered to suggest a few contacts who might be able to offer advice (as I would for anyone in this situation), but he has not responded.

That’s my final word on the matter. I hope that any anonymous bloggers out there will think hard about the information they’ve posted online and whether they are truly protected from those–governments or individuals–who might wish them harm, and that anyone thinking of starting an anonymous blog consider utilizing the following resources:

• EFF’s advice on blogging safely
• Global Voices’ guide to anonymous blogging with WordPress and Tor
• Tor
• How to register a domain name anonymously (though I can’t vouch for the accuracy of this resource)

When Egyptian-American journalist Mona Eltahawy was briefly detained–and beaten–by Egyptian authorities (read her account of that here), there was a concerted and fast-moving effort by her Twitter followers and friends online to quickly mobilize a solidarity campaign for her release, followed–post-release–by much discussion as to whether or not the campaign had actually helped. In Eltahawy’s case, I would wager that her relative fame and dual citizenship played a larger role than anything done online, but the global attention certainly didn’t hurt (for more on this, Zeynep Tufekci has done some fascinating analysis).

Tufekci hints that a campaign like #FreeMona or #FreeAlaa (Abd El Fattah) can improve the situation of other imprisoned Egyptians but doesn’t ask the question of whether campaigns like those can help lesser-known bloggers. As she points out, both Eltahawy and Abd El Fattah are well-known, sympathetic figures. Both received ample attention both from inside and outside of Egypt (by contrast, note how the campaign for Maikel Nabil has lagged). And yet, lesser-known bloggers are regularly made the object of solidarity campaigns: All it takes is one friend, one family member, or one sympathetic blogger from their country to throw up a site and get some attention on Twitter or Facebook. It may take longer, but evidence shows that the majority of these campaigns do result in significant attention. So, the question then, is this: Does that attention really help the individual?

I’ve been wondering this myself for some time, having been involved in numerous solidarity campaigns, including ones where the family of the detainee was somewhat uncomfortable with the campaigning, despite having given permission. There are times when the family or friends think a campaign might make the blogger’s situation worse; in most such cases that I’ve seen, they give in after a few weeks of no changes. Though I don’t think there are any conclusive answers as of yet, I’d like to share what little evidence I have come up with (some of which is, unfortunately, anonymous) to further the discussion.

First, we have a recent interview with Alaa Abd El Fattah, an Egyptian blogger and personal friend who was detained for 56 days, and released on December 25. In it, Abd El Fattah says [ at approximately 11:47]:

They knew that they couldn’t torture me because of the solidarity and the media attention, so they just made sure to try to use every other measure to put me at discomfort or add psychological pressure. But every other person arrested in the Maspero incident were tortured severely, and torture is still very systematic at police stations and in prisons.

In this case, there’s obviously very little to get excited about: Individuals without the benefit of global campaigns were still tortured, and Abd El Fattah was still detained for 56 days and made uncomfortable. And yet, he believes that the solidarity saved him personally from torture.

An account from Razan Ghazzawi’s blog also suggests that Syrian blogger Hussein Ghrer (whom, I should mention, is not well-known outside of the Syrian blogosphere) received better treatment after his case was amplified by the international blogosphere and media:

The 32 year-old blogger was kidnapped in Damascus in an ambush on 24-10-2011 and was taken to security services branches in Al-Khateeb and Kafaقsouseh, then was transferred to Adra prison, a prison that is considered by activists and revolutionaries as “haven” in comparison to security services, or worse, Air Intelligence service- a place where worst kinds of torture is practiced against detainees.

Ghazzawi, detained from 1-19 December, also stated that the campaign on her behalf was helpful in securing better treatment:

A tweet from Syrian blogger Razan Ghazzawi.

Azyz Amami, who was detained in Tunisia in January along with Slim Amamou, recalls that he and Amamou also later declared, on Tunisian television, that the international campaign for their release was helpful.

And speaking to Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, Azeri journalist Eynulla Fatullayev credited international campaigns with saving his life and securing his release.

I have also interviewed–on the condition of anonymity–three other people who have been detained in various countries, and who have been the subject of solidarity campaigns. Each said a variation on the same theme: That they were treated well, and sometimes even given special privileges, because of their status. One mentioned that it bothered him that the same treatment was not extended to his fellow detainees, a reminder that being a blogger is a position of privilege in its own way. Similar to his sentiment is that expressed by recently-released Bahraini blogger Zainab Al-Khawaja, who tweeted the day of her release:

Zainab Al-Khawaja expresses a desire to give attention to lesser-known cases in Bahrain

Al-Khawaja’s sister, Maryam, had also previously suggested that international support was the reason Zainab was not arrested at an earlier instance:

A tweet from Maryam Al-Khawaja suggesting that international support has been beneficial to her sister

But all of the bloggers I’ve spoken to individually have emphasized the importance of permission from family and/or friends before starting up a campaign (a recommendation cited in a recent post I co-wrote for EFF and Global Voices Advocacy). This isn’t always an easy thing to do, of course, and in some cases, may result in no campaign at all (if friends can’t contact family members, for instance).

There is also, I might add, evidence that some campaigns don’t help at all. Take, for example, that of Tal Al-Mallouhi, the teenaged Syrian blogger now imprisoned for two years, for allegedly spying for a foreign government. Despite ample international outcry, including from such prominent organizations as Amnesty International, Mallouhi remains in prison following an unfair trial. On the flip side, a lack of international attention can be detrimental, as Zainab Al-Khawaja points out:

Zainab Al-Khawaja feels that international attention is crucial

Ultimately, the only definitive takeaway from these cases is that authorities are paying attention to them. And that alone is enough to suggest that, in most cases (taking into consideration a blogger’s personal circumstances), solidarity campaigns that draw on international media are beneficial, if only minimally.

So, how can bloggers who are not as well-connected as Abd El Fattah or Eltahawy ensure that their name won’t be forgotten? At a recent event I spoke at in Istanbul, incidentally, a Turkish blogger asked me just that question. My short response at the time was–and I stand by this–to plug in to international networks, something which social media has made incredibly easy. The aforementioned EFF/Advox post puts forward some other recommendations, but I have no doubt there are others, and I look forward to whatever discussion this might generate.