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SocietyNovember 12, 2019

How the Christchurch Principles will fight the spread of hate

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Tech sector giants have a vested interest in prioritising freedom of expression, often at the expense of other rights. A new project to reduce harmful online content, presented yesterday to the Paris Peace Forum, aims to change that. One of the architects of the Christchurch Principles, Dr David Hall, explains. 

What is the harm in online content? It’s just text, images, audio, video. Pixels on your screen and sound in your speakers.

But these sights and sounds convey ideas, concepts, beliefs and ideologies. And these are the means by which we make sense of our world, ourselves and our relationships to others. When these are imbued with hate, we, or someone else, is liable to suffer.

Online content can be enlightening, enriching and empowering. But it can also be hurtful or dehumanising. It can encourage people to act with grace and decency, or with contempt and cruelty. It is no different from offline speech in this respect, except that online speech exists in a realm – the internet – that isn’t bound by the same constraints, which is structured by different dynamics. Familiar harms take unfamiliar forms, which our institutions are struggling to cope with.

One prominent worry is the influence on politics. The message “You broke democracy” was once towed by an aeroplane over Facebook’s quarterly shareholder meeting in Silicon Valley. 

As far as accusations go, it’s too strong to be entirely right. Some argue that the signs of democratic distress were showing well before the era of social media truly kicked in. Others argue that democracy is a destination that few, if any, countries have ever fully arrived at. On this view, democracy is an aspiration that we should nurture and cultivate.

Initially, the internet promised to assist in this journey. It offered a new infrastructure for connection, communication and interactivity – the stuff with which democratic publics are produced. But the colonisation of the internet by platform monopolies like Google, Facebook and Amazon has rapidly reconfigured this infrastructure. The way we access information online, the way we connect and in what spirit, is influenced by their design choices. And these choices are shaped, first and foremost, by commercial imperatives, not necessarily the imperatives of democracy.

Mark Zuckerberg in Dublin after a meeting to discuss regulation of social media and harmful content in April, 2019 (Photo: Getty Images)

Earlier this year, The Workshop released its vital report Digital Threats to Democracy. It found that digital technologies are affecting every aspect of democracy: the electoral process, civil liberties, competitive economy, active citizenship, trust in authority and shared democratic culture. 

To be sure, some disruptions are positive. For example, social media provides minority groups with new opportunities to participate in public debates and political networks that they were once marginalised from.

But as the report warns, “the overall trend should raise serious concerns”. 

Active citizenship is being undermined by online abuse and harassment. Social media companies have developed systems for filtering and reporting hate speech, but these are imperfect, inadequately enforced and easily out-foxed. But a lot of harmful online content simply doesn’t reach the threshold, which leaves online spaces with an ambience of vitriol that is exhausting and demoralising. People are discouraged from sticking their neck out.

This might seem a niche concern – except that online spaces are increasingly where debates of public importance happen. Partly, this reflects the struggles of traditional media – print, radio, television – which is seeing its advertising revenue gobbled up by Google and Facebook, and yet needs to deepen its dependence on these same platforms to reach its audience. As a result, information flows are increasingly hostage to the design choices of online platforms, choices which we know very little about. Arguably, this is a matter of commercial sensitivity – yet when platforms increasingly position themselves as providers of public goods, as the stewards of human knowledge and “the public conversation”, then this secrecy is in conflict with democratic values of transparency and accountability. 

And while we don’t know enough about the algorithms that moderate and recommend content, we do know something about the outcomes. We face today an onslaught of disinformation, misinformation and mal-information that not only frustrates informed debate, but encourages a generalised mistrust towards expertise and institutions. We see the effects of “echo chambers” or “filter bubbles” where people get lost in their own personalised information flows, prone to radicalisation about vaccination, immigration or whatever else. 

This has gnawed away at our democratic culture for years, but 15 March 2019 was a terrible awakening. This wasn’t just another online outrage, even though some people treat it this way. It was  a gross violation of the most basic human rights to life and security, with about 100 people shot, 51 dying from their injuries. The wider Muslim community in New Zealand lives with a heightened sense of threat, accentuated by ongoing harassment, both offline and online. Many more New Zealanders, including many children, experienced distress after seeing the shooter’s video online, inundating mental health lines.

Of course, the Christchurch mosque attacks are more than just a story about online hate. But these events revealed once again that the internet is a driver and enabler of violent extremism – with new technologies making it ever more effective. His manifesto and video are implicated in violence elsewhere – in Poway and El Paso in the US; Bærum, Norway; and Halle, Germany. Just pixels on a screen, doing exactly what he intended it to do.

The manifesto was shared on 8Chan

The Christchurch Principles is a democratic model for reducing harmful online content, presented this week to the Paris Peace Forum. The project is led by the Helen Clark Foundation, in collaboration with The Workshop and The Policy Observatory, AUT. 

Essentially, the Christchurch Principles aims to do for the digital economy what the UN Guiding Principles for Business and Human Rights did for the global economy. It recommends a set of roles and responsibilities for digital technology companies, states, and civil society organisations to not only protect and respect human rights, but also to defend those democratic norms, practices and institutions that enable rights to flourish.

At its heart is the democratic ideal that all people should have the opportunity to participate as equals in public life. 

This is vital for democratic government. We should all have an equal standing in society, so that we can influence the collective decisions that affect our needs and interests. But it is also vital for democratic culture in a broader sense. As Jack Balkin, a long-time expert on online speech, once wrote: “A democratic culture is democratic in the sense that everyone – not just political, economic or cultural elites – has a fair chance to participate in the production of culture, and in the development of ideas and meanings that constitute them.” It is from such a culture, he argues, that “liberty emerges”. 

The right to freedom of expression, to freedom of speech, opinion and belief, is integral to democratic equality. The suppression of voices, especially minority voices, is one way that equal standing is lost. 

But it is easy to see, especially in the digital age, how the speech of some people can interfere with the equal standing of others. If online platforms are amplifying bias and discrimination, if they are allowing the free speech of dominant groups to have a chilling effect on the speech of minorities, if they spoil public decision-making through distraction and disinformation, if they assist in suppressing votes of specific constituencies, then these platforms are incompatible with democracy. They are undermining the ideal of equal participation by making public life feel too exhausting, too burdensome, too risky for certain people to be involved in.

By thinking through the risks to rights and democracy, the Christchurch Principles applies a broad definition of harm. This is an important point of difference to the Christchurch Call, which focuses only on terrorist and violent extremist content. This is critical work, but there are a wider set of rights at stake in the digital revolution, including freedom of expression, anti-discrimination, equality, political participation and privacy. We are harmed when these rights are violated, but we are also harmed when inhibited from exercising our rights as a result of manipulation, deception, distraction or loss of trust. 

To be sure, by casting the net more widely, the Christchurch Principles turns attention to speech that can’t, and shouldn’t, be targeted for legal sanction. For example, while the proliferation of falsehoods is undoubtedly harmful to democratic decision-making, we shouldn’t punish people for merely being wrong. But the Christchurch Principles works on the assumption that non-criminal remedies have an essential and neglected role to play. As David Kaye, the UN Special Rapporteur for Freedom of Expression, notes in a recent paper on online hate speech, states and businesses have a wide range of tools that don’t endanger freedom of expression in the same way as takedowns and laws. These include greater transparency requirements, education programmes, counter-speech and counter-narratives, de-amplification and de-monetisation of problematic speech, creating friction for sharing, deferring to independent judicial authorities, and improving the capabilities of civil society that can engage with fellow citizens in ways that states and businesses can’t. 

Freedom of expression is a right that tech sector titans have an interest in prioritising – and a lucrative interest at that. But this devalues other rights, as well as the responsibilities that accompany them. Only once these companies acknowledge their wider obligations, only once they acknowledge the duty of care that derives from the trust that people place in them, will they turn from breaking things to mending things.

Keep going!
A protest at the University of California, Berkeley campus in 2017 (Photo: JOSH EDELSON/AFP/Getty Images)
A protest at the University of California, Berkeley campus in 2017 (Photo: JOSH EDELSON/AFP/Getty Images)

SocietyNovember 11, 2019

Nailing jelly to the wall? Universities, academic freedom and free speech

A protest at the University of California, Berkeley campus in 2017 (Photo: JOSH EDELSON/AFP/Getty Images)
A protest at the University of California, Berkeley campus in 2017 (Photo: JOSH EDELSON/AFP/Getty Images)

With the university campus rapidly becoming a space of conflict, is it possible to remain faithful to academic freedom while at the same time mitigating the most harmful effects of hate speech? Massey University provost Giselle Byrnes discusses.

Academic freedom and free speech have been much debated in New Zealand in recent months. Chief among the issues at play has been the status of academic freedom on university campuses and balancing this commitment with the reality of operating a 21st century university. In many respects, protecting academic freedom is, it might be argued, not too dissimilar to the historian’s quest for objectivity. Back in the late 1980s the American historian Peter Novick noted that, for historians at least, the pursuit of objectivity was rather like “nailing jelly to the wall”, a noble effort, but one fraught with challenges. I suggest that the need to balance a commitment to the honourable goals of protecting academic freedom and free speech alongside the issues of harm, wellbeing and safety, not to mention the challenges of hate speech, somehow makes academic freedom much less straightforward than it once might have been. 

The orthodox and rather sacred view of the modern university campus is that it is a place where, to paraphrase the University of California’s most famous president, Professor Clark Kerr, “students are made safe for ideas, not where ideas are made safe for students”. But this view of the role of the university and the site of the university campus is being openly attacked, in the name of free speech at all costs. It is, too, something of a paradox that at a time when universities are developing ‘digital campuses’ and enhancing the student experience by expanding online learning and teaching platforms, the physical campus is becoming a lightning rod for the expression of extreme views, often driven by groups external to a university. This is not to say that online discussion does not occur – it does, and it will continue – but the campus itself is rapidly becoming a space of conflict, tension and public notoriety. 

In recent months, there has been fierce public and media-fuelled debate about the role of universities in protecting and supporting the principles and practice of freedom of expression, free speech and academic freedom. This wider international context includes the desecration of historical statues on university campuses (the ‘Rhodes Must Fall’ campaign), the debate around ‘trigger warnings’ for students on US university campuses, the rise of the so-called ‘snowflake’ generation and the increasing call for universities be a part of and not sit apart from the communities in which they operate and the constituencies they serve. Universities around the world have, since the 1960s, been grappling with free speech and the expression of academic freedom. It would be fair to say, too, that social, political and economic movements – driven by rapidly changing student demographics – have increasingly challenged orthodox intellectual paradigms and the place of the university in matters of free speech has become sorely tested. 

New Zealand has not been immune from this either. Earlier this year, students at the University of Auckland were up in arms regarding an alleged white supremacist movement on campus. The university has been responding to the appearance of posters on campus advertising the existence of a white supremacist group and has refused to remove the posters as an expression of its support for free speech, but it has recognised the harm these posters have caused. Otago University’s Emeritus Professor Jim Flynn’s book on the topic has failed to keep its international publisher for fear of transgressing hate speech laws in Britain, and my own university has recently been challenged by the issues of free speech and freedom of expression on campus. The public and media gaze on these events has been intense.

The right to academic freedom is very clear in New Zealand where universities and their staff are mandated in their rights by the Education Act 1989. Under this legislation, universities and their academic staff have a right to fulfil the role as ‘critic and conscience’ of society. Academic freedom is defined in section 161 of the Act as “the freedom of academic staff and students, within the law, to question and test received wisdom, to put forward new ideas and to state controversial or unpopular opinions”. While there is no strict consensus about what ‘conscience’ actually means – other than a nod perhaps to our Christian colonising origins and an appeal to a sense of overarching moral duty – the ‘critic’ role is one taken seriously by universities in ‘speaking truth to power’. Irrespective of where that power might now reside, universities jealously guard their independence and their role in speaking from an evidence-based position. After all, in our modern democratic nation-state, no other public institution has this role. 

Of course, you might say free speech – not just in mainstream media but also in online platforms and social media channels – saturates our modern world. As Douglas Murray rightly notes in his masterful book The Madness of Crowds: Gender, Race and Identity, the line between public discourse and private thinking has now more or less dissolved; with the advent of social media, the space between what one wishes to say and what one should say are leading to a sort of self-censorship where everything is exposed. Murray also observes that nowadays, the issue is all about the speaker, not necessarily the speech itself. And in the dark recesses of the internet, speech of all varieties flourishes. Australian journalist Ginger Gorman has bravely detailed her own journeying into the world of online hate speech in search of journalistic truth. Her Troll Hunting: Inside the World of Online Hate and its Human Fallout is a chilling expose of this hate-filled world of social media.

Amid this ‘public noise’ and alongside the trend towards enhanced student access and increasing expectations upon publicly funded universities to perform more like corporate entities with healthy balance sheets, universities have reaffirmed their core mandate and purpose: teaching, the dissemination and exchange of ideas, and freedom in conducting research publishing the results. Let’s be clear: universities fulfil a critical role in encouraging debate and discussion in society; they provide an environment where new ideas can be explored and challenged and where old ideas can be tested and even overturned. Universities prize new and independent thinking and value the expression of a range of views within the institution. This diversity of opinion, when based on evidence and sound research, is the basis upon which they state their claim to developing and extending scholarship and contributing to the advancement of knowledge. 

In post-March 15 New Zealand, academia is not the only domain where debates around the parameters of free speech and the definitions of hate speech are being tested. The New Zealand Broadcasting Standards Authority is currently exploring if broadcasting standards need to be amended in the wake of the horrific Christchurch mosque attacks this year. Indeed, ‘Freedom in Broadcasting without Harm’ is the refreshed mission of our country’s most powerful media watchdog who are placing, in their own words, a ‘spotlight on harm’. It is worth noting that while the right to exercise the freedom of expression is enshrined in New Zealand law, the limits on expressing this are currently very few. The Bill of Rights Act recognizes the right to freedom of expression, including the freedom to seek, receive, and impart information and opinions of any kind and in any form. The Human Rights Commission is committed to the freedom of expression and the right to human dignity, but it also recognises that most rights are not absolute and that rights come with responsibilities. 

Admittedly, New Zealand does have legislation which offers protection from hateful, threatening or offensive behaviours, such as the Sentencing Act and the Harmful Digital Communications Act. The Human Rights Act also declares it unlawful to publish or distribute threatening, abusive or insulting words that are likely to excite hostility on the basis of colour, race or ethnicity. But there is an overwhelming public sentiment that these provisions do not go far enough. Since the Christchurch mosque attacks, the Human Rights Commission has asked the New Zealand Government to look at amending the laws to protect religious groups against hate speech. Justice Minister Andrew Little considers too that current laws dealing with hate speech are ‘woefully inadequate’ and he has asked his Ministry to work with the Human Rights Commission to examine whether New Zealand laws properly balance the issues of freedom of speech and hate speech. 

This is why Massey University has developed a new policy which sets out how we see free speech in our New Zealand context, framed by our governing legislation and informed by the historical, social and cultural milieu in which we now operate. Massey’s new policy amplifies and underscores the importance of academic freedom – on behalf of individuals and the institution itself – and in doing so, notes that with freedom comes responsibilities. In the current vacuum around the lack of legal definition of what constitutes hate speech, we consider that our staff and students deserve this clarification. 

Massey’s new policy supports and validates academic freedom while emphasising that with this freedom comes the responsibility to ensure that others are neither harmed nor hurt in the exercise of this privilege. Accordingly, the policy defines the core principles of these freedoms within the context of the academy in 21st century Aotearoa. It outlines the responsibilities of staff and students in exercising academic freedom. In other words, while the policy affirms the generally held international principles around the primacy of academic freedom, it acknowledges the limitations of exercising these freedoms in our local diverse postcolonial context. We take the view that the ability to speak freely on campus is a privilege and one that ought to be exercised with responsibility. 

Let me restate that central to the mission of a university is the commitment to academic freedom, the freedom of speech, and the freedom of expression. In the context of a democratic society, these values sit alongside our belief that scholarly exchanges should not silence, disparage, marginalise, stigmatise or incite hostility towards others, especially vulnerable groups and with particular attention to those who have been marginalised in the past. This involves weighing up the purpose of a university on the one hand – to allow the full and frank debate of ideas – while, on the other, to be mindful of the context in which we exist. As Sigal R. Ben-Porath argues in her book Free Speech on Campus, it is possible to remain faithful to academic freedom while at the same time mitigating the most harmful effects of hate speech.

In the immediate wake of the Christchurch mosque attacks in March this year, New Zealand Justice Minister Andrew Little noted in April that “freedom of speech can give force to new ideas, but also cause discomfort and offence. It is usually the first right to be lost under oppressive regimes, and among the first to be restored, at least in name, after revolutionary change.” Given the critical role universities play in nation-making and educating the citizenry, this is worth remembering.