February 23, 1999
CAMBRIDGE, MASS.—Like the biblical Jacob, modern governments are wrestling with anonymity. Jacob’s adversary (described in the scripture merely as a “man”) gives him both a wound and a blessing. When Jacob begs, “Tell me your name!” the man retorts, “Why do you ask my name?” and departs. Four thousand years later, we still find in anonymity elements both harmful and liberating.
On February 10, an anonymous Web publication brought down a popular benefactor in France. Valentin Lacambre, who made a living registering and managing domain names, had set up a server called Altern that offered free Web sites. Over 47,000 people took advantage of his offer, submitting every imaginable sort of political, cultural, and other content.
Naturally, a few illegal fish swam into this bouillabaisse, but Lacambre tried to act responsibly in ridding his server of them. “The police come regularly to ask me for information,” he told a ZDNet reporter, “and I give it to them.”
Nobody really knows why this delicate balance failed to protect Altern and Lacambre last year when the famous model Estelle Hallyday sued him for violations of privacy. Nineteen photos of her in a state of undress—popular material that people have reported seeing elsewhere—were found on one of the Web sites on his server.
In France, as in the United States, courts have ruled fairly consistently that access providers should not be held responsible for content placed on their servers by other people. It was the supposed anonymity of the Web site that stripped Lacambre bare of this protection.
On June 9, 1998, according to Meryem Marzouki of civil-liberties group IRIS, a court ordered Lacambre to remove the Hallyday photos but stopped short of making any judgment about his liability. The court did set a dangerous precedent, though, by forcing him “to put in place means that would render impossible any diffusion of the photographic images.” In other words, as Marzouki says, he would have “to check each day, each hour, each minute, all his 40,000 hosted web sites, looking for Estelle Hallyday photographs.”
Lacambre appealed the decision on the basis that the guarantee was
impossible to achieve. On February 10,
Certainly the Web site with photos was unlabeled. But as I’ve
explained, it was far from anonymous in the sense that Lacambre could
have revealed the pornographer’s identity at any time. Neither
Hallyday nor the courts asked him to, though. How does one attain anonymity? You can use an
“anonymizer” service that strips away identifying
information from electronic mail, but no posting you make to a mailing
newsgroup in that manner has the permanence of a Web site. Most
anonymizers keep information on your true origin anyway, so that
replies can be directed back to you. Some computers on the Internet have poor enough security for
individuals to connect freely and send electronic mail without
revealing their actual location. But because “spammers”
(senders of unsolicited bulk email) search out and exploit these sites
heavily, their administrators frequently are told of the problem and
tighten their access. Is a truly anonymous Web site possible in the same fashion as an
electronic mail message? In theory, but not in practice. To allow people to hide their locations, a system administrator
would have to create a world-writable directory (meaning anybody can
put data there) and allow anonymous connections (as many FTP sites do
already). So long as the system administrator refused to log
connections, no trace would remain of who uploaded files. But the result would be that people would overwrite files they
didn’t like, and that some who disapprove of anonymous services
would immediately and repeatedly fill the server’s disk with
garbage. No, anonymous sites are not practicable. It is not possible on
the Web to wrench the socket of someone’s thigh and just walk
away. Lacambre’s case has been publicized by IRIS,
APRIL (Association for the Promotion and Research of Free
Information), and many other political and cultural supporters,
winning him a great deal of political sympathy and even pledges of
financial aid. An impressive 198 organizations—let alone
individuals—have signed an online IRIS
petition, and another 12,000 a simple petition saying “Altern.org should be
able to continue managing free Internet sites.” For many of
these activists, including IRIS and APRIL, the key issues are freedom
of expression and the survival of a “non-commercial
Internet.” Anonymity on the Web, which has many social benefits, is first to
go under this court ruling. No one has defended anyone’s right to
display nude photographs of a famous person. But whistle-blowers and
protesters against political repression, who can hand out leaflets
anonymously on the street, should have the right to make use of the
immensely more powerful online medium. After anonymity, the next Internet institution threatened by the
court decision is free Web service, or even a public Web service of any
sort. How can a provider ensure that thousands of clients identify
themselves clearly on every Web page? The degree of surveillance
required by the court decision makes the framers of the Communications
Decency Act look like Jean-Jacques Rousseau by comparison. And indeed,
Lacambre has provisionally removed his 47,000 sites rather than subject
himself to the requirement that each site be checked continually. In the United States, where the fear of copyright infringement
rivals the fear of pornography in driving debate over the liability of
Internet providers, the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998 has
erected an acceptable
compromise in rights and responsibilities. A tangle of rules
protect universities, service providers, and other sites offering
Internet services to clients from liability for those clients’
copyright infringement. In return, the service provider has to register
with the Copyright Office so that a copyright holder complaining of
infringement can easily make contact. I do not necessarily offer the Copyright Act as a model for a
French solution, but the ruling of February 10 shows that something
needs to be done there to restore an open Internet. It is ironic that
the ruling cites a “violation of privacy” in order to
squelch one of the most valuable sources of privacy, the ability to
express oneself anonymously on the Web. On a mailing list in support of Lacambre, many protesters point to
another irony: that a French court delivered a blow against the
promulgation of Internet access during French preparations for a “Festival of the
Internet” to take place from March 19 through 21. Punning on
the French for “Festival of the Internet” (Fête de
l’Internet), a site called Mini-Rézo lamented attacks on
Lacambre and another Internet site in an article called “Defeat of the
Internet.” The article traces the ruling to a mentality that
“considers the liberty of expression dangerous…the widely
circulated myth that this liberty is totally uncontrollable and left to
criminal elements.” The circumstances of the ruling have led many political observers
to deduce that it was politically motivated. They point to the omission
of the natural and basic step of asking Lacambre to remove the material
or identify its owner, to the staggering restitution
demanded—400,000 Francs, typical for a case against a tabloid
newspaper but not a small entrepreneur earning 10,000 Francs a
year—and to distortions of fact in the ruling. For intance, the
court insisted that Lacambre profited from his Web sites, even though
he was offering them for free and never required advertising or any
other revenue-generating compensation. Activist Christine Treguier lays out the political battle as
follows: “Now that France has released cryptography and big
business can start up, they (the authorities, the multinationals, the
private businesses) want to clean the yard. Move away, you dirty,
chaotic internauts.” There are plenty of precedents for digging up publishing
infractions as a weapon of political censorship. In France, we can go
back to the 1857 in the Second Empire, and the trial against the
liberal journal La Revue de Paris. A government prosecutor snared the journal for serializing a novel
that was “an outrage to the public and religious morals.”
But most observers knew that the journal’s real crime was to
publish leftist opponents of the regime. The Revue had already received
two warnings for this, and was to be shut down permanently the
following year on the charge that it encouraged sedition. The morality trial proved to be simple buffoonery, ending with all
defendents acquitted. It succeeded only in drawing the public’s
attention to the daring views in the novel being condemned—Madame
Bovary—and the talents of author Gustave Flaubert, who conducted
a tiresomly conventional lifestyle. While I doubt that any of the 47,000 site on Altern contained work
of the quality of Madame Bovary, I would like the chance to explore
what these earnest souls have to offer and I wish that Lacambre had
been vindicated like Flaubert. Limits are acceptable on the absolute
concealment of identity, but the infractions of a few should not be
grounds for denying the rights of all to free and even anonymous
expression.
Editor, O’Reilly Media
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