Centre for Internet and Society

Free Speech and Surveillance

Gautam Bhatia — 2014-07-07T04:59:59Z

Gautam Bhatia examines the constitutionality of surveillance by the Indian state.

The Indian surveillance regime has been the subject of discussion for quite some time now. Its nature and scope is controversial. The Central Monitoring System, through which the government can obtain direct access to call records, appears to have the potential to be used for bulk surveillance, although official claims emphasise that it will only be implemented in a targeted manner. The Netra system, on the other hand, is certainly about dragnet collection, since it detects the communication, via electronic media, of certain “keywords” (such as “attack”, “bomb”, “blast” and “kill”), no matter what context they are used in, and no matter who is using them.

Surveillance is quintessentially thought to raise concerns about privacy. Over a series of decisions, the Indian Supreme Court has read in the right to privacy into Article 21’s guarantee of the right to life and personal liberty. Under the Supreme Court’s (somewhat cloudy) precedents, privacy may only be infringed if there is a compelling State interest, and if the restrictive law is narrowly tailored – that is, it does not infringe upon rights to an extent greater than it needs to, in order to fulfill its goal. It is questionable whether bulk surveillance meets these standards.

Surveillance, however, does not only involve privacy rights. It also implicated Article 19 – in particular, the Article 19(1)(a) guarantee of the freedom of expression, and the 19(1)(c) guarantee of the freedom of association.

Previously on this blog, we have discussed the “chilling effect” in relation to free speech. The chilling effect evolved in the context of defamation cases, where a combination of exacting standards of proof, and prohibitive damages, contributed to create a culture of self-censorship, where people would refrain from voicing even legitimate criticism for fear of ruinous defamation lawsuits. The chilling effect, however, is not restricted merely to defamation, but arises in free speech cases more generally, where vague and over-broad statutes often leave the border of the permitted and the prohibited unclear.

Indeed, a few years before it decided New York Times v. Sullivan, which brought in the chilling effect doctrine into defamation and free speech law, the American Supreme Court applies a very similar principle in a surveillance case. In NAACP v. Alabama, the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (NAACP), which was heavily engaged in the civil rights movement in the American deep South, was ordered by the State of Alabama to disclose its membership list. NAACP challenged this, and the Court held in its favour. It specifically connected freedom of speech, freedom of association, and the impact of surveillance upon both:

“Effective advocacy of both public and private points of view, particularly controversial ones, is undeniably enhanced by group association, as this Court has more than once recognized by remarking upon the close nexus between the freedoms of speech and assembly. It is beyond debate that freedom to engage in association for the advancement of beliefs and ideas is an inseparable aspect of the “liberty” assured by the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, which embraces freedom of speech. Of course, it is immaterial whether the beliefs sought to be advanced by association pertain to political, economic, religious or cultural matters, and state action which may have the effect of curtailing the freedom to associate is subject to the closest scrutiny… it is hardly a novel perception that compelled disclosure of affiliation with groups engaged in advocacy may constitute [an] effective a restraint on freedom of association… this Court has recognized the vital relationship between freedom to associate and privacy in one’s associations. Inviolability of privacy in group association may in many circumstances be indispensable to preservation of freedom of association, particularly where a group espouses dissident beliefs.”

In other words, if persons are not assured of privacy in their association with each other, they will tend to self-censor both who they associate with, and what they say to each other, especially when unpopular groups, who have been historically subject to governmental or social persecution, are involved. Indeed, this was precisely the argument that the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) made in its constitutional challenge to PRISM, the American bulk surveillance program. In addition to advancing a Fourth Amendment argument from privacy, the ACLU also made a First Amendment freedom of speech and association claim, arguing that the knowledge of bulk surveillance had made – or at least, was likely to have made – politically unpopular groups wary of contacting it for professional purposes (the difficulty, of course, is that any chilling effect argument effectively requires proving a negative).

If this argument holds, then it is clear that Articles 19(1)(a) and 19(1)(c) are prima facie infringed in cases of bulk – or even other forms of – surveillance. Two conclusions follow: first, that any surveillance regime needs statutory backing. Under Article 19(2), reasonable restrictions upon fundamental rights can only be imposed by law, and not be executive fiat (the same argument applies to Article 21 as well).

Assuming that a statutory framework is brought into force, the crucial issue then becomes whether the restriction is a reasonable one, in service of one of the stated 19(2) interests. The relevant part of Article 19(2) permits reasonable restrictions upon the freedom of speech and expression “in the interests of… the security of the State [and] public order.” The Constitution does not, however, provide a test for determining when a restriction can be legitimately justified as being “in the interests of” the security of the State, and of public order. There is not much relevant precedent with respect to the first sub-clause, but there happens to be an extensive – although conflicted – jurisprudence dealing with the public order exception.

One line of cases – characterised by Ramji Lal Modi v. State of UP and Virendra v. State of Punjab – has held that the phrase “for the interests of” is of very wide ambit, and that the government has virtually limitless scope to make laws ostensibly for securing public order (this extends to prior restraint as well, something that Blackstone, writing in the 18^th century, found to be illegal!). The other line of cases, such as Superintendent v. Ram Manohar Lohia and S. Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, have required the government to satisfy a stringent burden of proof. In Lohia, for instance, Ram Manohar Lohia’s conviction for encouraging people to break a tax law was reversed, the Court holding that the relationship between restricting free speech and a public order justification must be “proximate”. In Rangarajan, the Court used the euphemistic image of a “spark in a powder keg”, to characterise the degree of proximity required. It is evident that under the broad test of Ramji Lal Modi, a bulk surveillance system is likely to be upheld, whereas under the narrow test of Lohia, it is almost certain not to be.

Thus, if the constitutionality of surveillance comes to Court, three issues will need to be decided: first, whether Articles 19(1)(a) and 19(1)(c) have been violated. Secondly – and if so – whether the “security of the State” exception is subject to the same standards as the “public order” exception (there is no reason why it should not be). And thirdly, which of the two lines of precedent represent the correct understanding of Article 19(2)?

Gautam Bhatia — @gautambhatia88 on Twitter — is a graduate of the National Law School of India University (2011), and has just received an LLM from the Yale Law School. He blogs about the Indian Constitution at http://indconlawphil.wordpress.com. Here at CIS, he blogs on issues of online freedom of speech and expression.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-surveillance

Facebook and its Aversion to Anonymous and Pseudonymous Speech

Jessamine Mathew — 2014-07-04T07:53:07Z

Jessamine Mathew explores Facebook's "real name" policy and its implications for the right to free speech.

The power to be unidentifiable on the internet has been a major reason for its sheer number of users. Most of the internet can now be freely used by anybody under a pseudonym without the fear of being recognised by anybody else. These conditions allow for the furtherance of free expression and protection of privacy on the internet, which is particularly important for those who use the internet as a medium to communicate political dissent or engage in any other activity which would be deemed controversial in a society yet not illegal. For example, an internet forum for homosexuals in India, discussing various issues which surround homosexuality may prove far more fruitful if contributors are given the option of being undetectable, considering the stigma that surrounds homosexuality in India, and the recent setting-aside of the Delhi High Court decision reading down Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code. The possibility of being anonymous or pseudonymous exists on many internet fora but on Facebook, the world’s greatest internet space for building connections and free expression, there is no sanction given to pseudonymous accounts as Facebook follows a real name policy. And as the recent decision of a New York judge, disallowing Facebook from contesting warrants on private information of over 300 of its users, shows, there are clear threats to freedom of expression and privacy.

On the subject of using real names, Facebook’s Community Standards states, “Facebook is a community where people use their real identities. We require everyone to provide their real names, so you always know who you're connecting with. This helps keep our community safe.” Facebook’s Marketing Director, Randi Zuckerberg, bluntly dismissed the idea of online anonymity as one that “has to go away” and that people would “behave much better” if they are made to use their real names. Apart from being a narrow-minded statement, she fails to realise that there are many different kinds of expression on the internet, from stories of sexual abuse victims to the views of political commentators, or indeed, whistleblowers, many of whom may prefer to use the platform without being identified. It has been decided in many cases that humans have a right to anonymity as it provides for the furtherance of free speech without the fear of retaliation or humiliation (see Talley v. California).

While Facebook’s rationale behind wanting users to register for accounts with their own names is based on the goal of maintaining the security of other users, it is still a serious infraction on users’ freedom of expression, particularly when anonymous speech has been protected by various countries. Facebook has evolved from a private space for college students to connect with each other to a very public platform where not just social connections but also discussions take place, often with a heavily political theme. Facebook has been described as instrumental in the facilitation of communication during the Arab Spring, providing a space for citizens to effectively communicate with each other and organise movements. Connections on Facebook are no longer of a purely social nature but have extended to political and legal as well, with it being used to promote movements all through the country. Even in India, Facebook was the most widely adopted medium, along with Twitter and Facebook, for discourse on the political future of the country during, before and after the 2014 elections. Earlier in 2011, Facebook was used intensively during the India Against Corruption movement. There were pages created, pictures and videos uploaded, comments posted by an approximate of 1.5 million people in India. In 2012, Facebook was also used to protest against the Delhi gang rape with many coming forward with their own stories of sexual assault, providing support to the victim, organising rallies and marches and protesting about the poor level of safety of women in Delhi.

Much like its content policy, Facebook exhibits a number of discrepancies in the implementation of the anonymity ban. Salman Rushdie found that his Facebook account had been suspended and when it was reinstated after he sent them proof of identity, Facebook changed his name to the name on his passport, Ahmed Rushdie instead of the name he popularly goes by. Through a series of tweets, he criticised this move by Facebook, forcing him to display his birth name. Eventually Facebook changed his name back to Salman Rushdie but not before serious questions were raised regarding Facebook’s policies. The Moroccan activist Najat Kessler’s account was also suspended as it was suspected that she was using a fake name. Facebook has also not just stopped at suspending individual user accounts but has also removed pages and groups because the creators used pseudonyms to create and operate the pages in question. This was seen in the case of Wael Ghonim who created a group which helped in mobilizing citizens in Egypt in 2011. Ghonim was a Google executive who did not want his online activism to affect his professional life and hence operated under a pseudonym. Facebook temporarily removed the group due to his pseudonymity but later reinstated it.

While Facebook performs its due diligence when it comes to some accounts, it has still done nothing about the overwhelmingly large number of obviously fake accounts, ranging from Santa Claus to Jack the Ripper. On my own Facebook friend list, there are people who have entered names of fictional characters as their own, clearly violating the real name policy. I once reported a pseudonymous account that used the real name of another person. Facebook thanked me for reporting the account but also said that I will “probably not hear back” from them. The account still exists with the same name. The redundancy of the requirement lies in the fact that Facebook does not request users to upload some form identification when they register with the site but only when they suspect them to be using a pseudonym. Since Facebook also implements its policies largely only on the basis of complaints by other users or the government, the real name policy makes many political dissidents and social activists the target of abuse on the internet.

Further, Articles 21 and 22 of the ICCPR grant all humans the right to free and peaceful assembly. As governments increasingly crack down on physical assemblies of people fighting for democracy or against legislation or conditions in a country, the internet has proved to be an extremely useful tool for facilitating this assembly without forcing people to endure the wrath of governmental authorities. A large factor which has promoted the popularity of internet gatherings is the way in which powerful opinions can be voice without the fear of immediate detection. Facebook has become the coveted online space for this kind of assembly but their policies and more particularly, faulty implementation of the policies, lead to reduced flows of communication on the site.

Of course, Facebook’s fears of cyberbullying and harassment are likely to materialise if there is absolutely no check on the identity of users. A possible solution to the conflict between requiring real names to keep the community safe and still allowing individuals to be present on the network without the fear of identification by anybody would be to ask users to register with their own names but still allowing them to create a fictional name which would be the name that other Facebook users can see. Under this model, Facebook can also deal with the issue of safety through their system of reporting against other users. If a pseudonymous user has been reported by a substantial number of people for harassment or any other cause, then Facebook may either suspend the account or remove the content that is offensive. If the victim of harassment chooses to approach a judicial body, then Facebook may reveal the real name of the user so that due process may be followed. At the same time, users who utilise the website to present their views and participate in the online process of protest or contribute to free expression in any other way can do so without the fear of being detected or targeted. Safety on the site can be maintained even without forcing users to reveal their real names to the world. The system that Facebook follows currently does not help curb the presence of fake accounts and neither does it promote completely free expression on the site.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/facebook-and-its-aversion-to-anonymous-and-pseudonymous-speech

An Evidence based Intermediary Liability Policy Framework: Workshop at IGF

jyoti — 2014-07-04T06:41:10Z

CIS is organising a workshop at the Internet Governance Forum 2014. The workshop will be an opportunity to present and discuss ongoing research on the changing definition of intermediaries and their responsibilities across jurisdictions and technologies and contribute to a comprehensible framework for liability that is consistent with the capacity of the intermediary and with international human-rights standards.

The Centre for Internet and Society, India and Centre for Internet and Society, Stanford Law School, USA, will be organising a workshop to analyse the role of intermediary platforms in relation to freedom of expression, freedom of information and freedom of association at the Internet Governance Forum 2014. The aim of the workshop is to highlight the increasing importance of digital rights and broad legal protections of stakeholders in an increasingly knowledge-based economy. The workshop will discuss public policy issues associated with Internet intermediaries, in particular their roles, legal responsibilities and related liability limitations in context of the evolving nature and role of intermediaries in the Internet ecosystem. distinct

Online Intermediaries: Setting the context

The Internet has facilitated unprecedented access to information and amplified avenues for expression and engagement by removing the limits of geographic boundaries and enabling diverse sources of information and online communities to coexist. Against the backdrop of a broadening base of users, the role of intermediaries that enable economic, social and political interactions between users in a global networked communication is ubiquitous. Intermediaries are essential to the functioning of the Internet as many producers and consumers of content on the internet rely on the action of some third party–the so called intermediary. Such intermediation ranges from the mere provision of connectivity, to more advanced services such as providing online storage spaces for data, acting as platforms for storage and sharing of user generated content (UGC), or platforms that provides links to other internet content.

Online intermediaries enhance economic activity by reducing costs, inducing competition by lowering the barriers for participation in the knowledge economy and fuelling innovation through their contribution to the wider ICT sector as well as through their key role in operating and maintaining Internet infrastructure to meet the network capacity demands of new applications and of an expanding base of users.

Intermediary platforms also provide social benefits, by empowering users and improving choice through social and participative networks, or web services that enable creativity and collaboration amongst individuals. By enabling platforms for self-expression and cooperation, intermediaries also play a critical role in establishing digital trust, protection of human rights such as freedom of speech and expression, privacy and upholding fundamental values such as freedom and democracy.

However, the economic and social benefits of online intermediaries are conditional to a framework for protection of intermediaries against legal liability for the communication and distribution of content which they enable.

Intermediary Liability

Over the last decade, right holders, service providers and Internet users have been locked in a debate on the potential liability of online intermediaries. The debate has raised global concerns on issues such as, the extent to which Internet intermediaries should be held responsible for content produced by third parties using their Internet infrastructure and how the resultant liability would affect online innovation and the free flow of knowledge in the information economy?

Given the impact of their services on communications, intermediaries find themselves as either directly liable for their actions, or indirectly (or “secondarily”) liable for the actions of their users. Requiring intermediaries to monitor the legality of the online content poses an insurmountable task. Even if monitoring the legality of content by intermediaries against all applicable legislations were possible, the costs of doing so would be prohibitively high. Therefore, placing liability on intermediaries can deter their willingness and ability to provide services, hindering the development of the internet itself.

Economics of intermediaries are dependent on scale and evaluating the legality of an individual post exceeds the profit from hosting the speech, and in the absence of judicial oversight can lead to a private censorship regime. Intermediaries that are liable for content or face legal exposure, have powerful incentives, to police content and limit user activity to protect themselves. The result is curtailing of legitimate expression especially where obligations related to and definition of illegal content is vague. Content policing mandates impose significant compliance costs limiting the innovation and competiveness of such platforms.

More importantly, placing liability on intermediaries has a chilling effect on freedom of expression online. Gate keeping obligations by service providers threaten democratic participation and expression of views online, limiting the potential of individuals and restricting freedoms. Imposing liability can also indirectly lead to the death of anonymity and pseudonymity, pervasive surveillance of users' activities, extensive collection of users' data and ultimately would undermine the digital trust between stakeholders.

Thus effectively, imposing liability for intermediaries creates a chilling effect on Internet activity and speech, create new barriers to innovation and stifles the Internet's potential to promote broader economic and social gains. To avoid these issues, legislators have defined 'safe harbours', limiting the liability of intermediaries under specific circumstances.

Online intermediaries do not have direct control of what information is or information are exchanged via their platform and might not be aware of illegal content per se. A key framework for online intermediaries, such limited liability regimes provide exceptions for third party intermediaries from liability rules to address this asymmetry of information that exists between content producers and intermediaries.

However, it is important to note, that significant differences exist concerning the subjects of these limitations, their scope of provisions and procedures and modes of operation. The 'notice and takedown' procedures are at the heart of the safe harbour model and can be subdivided into two approaches:

a. Vertical approach where liability regime applies to specific types of content exemplified in the US Digital Copyright Millennium Act

b. Horizontal approach based on the E-Commerce Directive (ECD) where different levels of immunity are granted depending on the type of activity at issue

Current framework

Globally, three broad but distinct models of liability for intermediaries have emerged within the Internet ecosystem:

1. Strict liability model under which intermediaries are liable for third party content used in countries such as China and Thailand

2. Safe harbour model granting intermediaries immunity, provided their compliance on certain requirements

3. Broad immunity model that grants intermediaries broad or conditional immunity from liability for third party content and exempts them from any general requirement to monitor content.

While the models described above can provide useful guidance for the drafting or the improvement of the current legislation, they are limited in their scope and application as they fail to account for the different roles and functions of intermediaries. Legislators and courts are facing increasing difficulties, in interpreting these regulations and adapting them to a new economic and technical landscape that involves unprecedented levels user generated content and new kinds of and online intermediaries.

The nature and role of intermediaries change considerably across jurisdictions, and in relation to the social, economic and technical contexts. In addition to the dynamic nature of intermediaries the different categories of Internet intermediaries‘ are frequently not clear-cut, with actors often playing more than one intermediation role. Several of these intermediaries offer a variety of products and services and may have number of roles, and conversely, several of these intermediaries perform the same function. For example , blogs, video services and social media platforms are considered to be 'hosts'. Search engine providers have been treated as 'hosts' and 'technical providers'.

This limitations of existing models in recognising that different types of intermediaries perform different functions or roles and therefore should have different liability, poses an interesting area for research and global deliberation. Establishing classification of intermediaries, will also help analyse existing patterns of influence in relation to content for example when the removal of content by upstream intermediaries results in undue over-blocking.

Distinguishing intermediaries on the basis of their roles and functions in the Internet ecosystem is critical to ensuring a balanced system of liability and addressing concerns for freedom of expression. Rather than the highly abstracted view of intermediaries as providing a single unified service of connecting third parties, the definition of intermediaries must expand to include the specific role and function they have in relation to users' rights. A successful intermediary liability regime must balance the needs of producers, consumers, affected parties and law enforcement, address the risk of abuses for political or commercial purposes, safeguard human rights and contribute to the evolution of uniform principles and safeguards.

Towards an evidence based intermediary liability policy framework

This workshop aims to bring together leading representatives from a broad spectrum of stakeholder groups to discuss liability related issues and ways to enhance Internet users’ trust.

Questions to address at the panel include:

1. What are the varying definitions of intermediaries across jurisdictions?

2. What are the specific roles and functions that allow for classification of intermediaries?

3. How can we ensure the legal framework keeps pace with technological advances and the changing roles of intermediaries?

4. What are the gaps in existing models in balancing innovation, economic growth and human rights?

5. What could be the respective role of law and industry self-regulation in enhancing trust?

6. How can we enhance multi-stakeholder cooperation in this space?

Confirmed Panel:

Technical Community: Malcolm Hutty: Internet Service Providers Association (ISPA)
Civil Society: Gabrielle Guillemin: Article19
Academic: Nicolo Zingales: Assistant Professor of Law at Tilburg University
Intergovernmental: Rebecca Mackinnon: Consent of the Networked, UNESCO project
Civil Society: Anriette Esterhuysen: Association for Progressive Communication (APC)
Civil Society: Francisco Vera: Advocacy Director: Derechos Digitale
Private Sector: Titi Akinsanmi: Policy and Government Relations Manager, Google Sub-Saharan Africa
Legal: Martin Husovec: MaxPlanck Institute

Moderator(s): Giancarlo Frosio, Centre for Internet and Society (CIS) and Jeremy Malcolm, Electronic Frontier Foundation

Remote Moderator: Anubha Sinha, New Delhi

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/igf-workshop-an-evidence-based-intermediary-liability-policy-framework

Free Speech and Civil Defamation

gautam — 2014-07-08T08:31:18Z

Does defamation become a tool in powerful hands to suppress criticism? Gautam Bhatia examines the strict and unrealistic demands of defamation law, and concludes that defamation suits are a weapon to silence dissent and bad press.

Previously on this blog, we have discussed one of the under-analysed aspects of Article 19(2) – contempt of court. In the last post, we discussed the checking – or “watchdog” – function of the press. There is yet another under-analysed part of 19(2) that we now turn to – one which directly implicates the press, in its role as public watchdog. This is the issue of defamation.

Unlike contempt of court – which was a last-minute insertion by Ambedkar, before the second reading of the draft Constitution in the Assembly – defamation was present in the restrictions clause since the Fundamental Rights Sub-Committee’s first draft, in 1947. Originally, it accompanied libel and slander, before the other two were dropped for the simpler “reasonable restrictions… in the interests of… defamation.” Unlike the other restrictions, which provoked substantial controversy, defamation did not provoke extended scrutiny by the Constituent Assembly.

In hindsight, that was a lapse. In recent years, defamation lawsuits have emerged as a powerful weapon against the press, used primarily by individuals and corporations in positions of power and authority, and invariably as a means of silencing criticism. For example, Hamish MacDonald’s The Polyester Prince, a book about the Ambanis, was unavailable in Indian bookshops, because of threats of defamation lawsuits. In January, Bloomsbury withdrew The Descent of Air India, which was highly critical of ex-Aviation Minister Praful Patel, after the latter filed a defamation lawsuit. Around the same time, Sahara initiated a 200 crore lawsuit against Tamal Bandyopadhayay, a journalist with The Mint, for his forthcoming book, Sahara: The Untold Story. Sahara even managed to get a stay order from a Calcutta High Court judge, who cited one paragraph from the book, and ruled that “Prima facie, the materials do seem to show the plaintiffs in poor light.” The issue has since been settled out of Court. Yet there is no guarantee that Bandyopadhyay would have won on merits, even with the absurd amount claimed as damages, given that a Pune Court awarded damages of Rs. 100 crores to former Justice P.B. Sawant against the Times Group, for a fifteen-second clip by a TV channel that accidentally showed his photograph next to the name of a judge who was an accused in a scam. What utterly takes the cake, though, is Infosys serving legal notices to three journalistic outlets recently, asking for damages worth Rs. 200 crore for “loss of reputation and goodwill due to circulation of defamatory articles.”

Something is very wrong here. The plaintiffs are invariably politicians or massive corporate houses, and the defendants are invariably journalists or newspapers. The subject is always critical reporting. The damages claimed (and occasionally, awarded) are astronomical – enough to cripple or destroy any business – and the actual harm is speculative. A combination of these factors, combined with a broken judicial system in which trials take an eternity to progress, leading to the prospect of a lawsuit hanging perpetually over one’s head, and financial ruin just around the corner, clearly has the potential to create a highly effective chilling effect upon newspapers, when it come to critical speech on matters of public interest.

One of the reasons that this happens, of course, is that extant defamation law allows it to happen. Under defamation law, as long as a statement is published, is defamatory (that is, tending to lower the reputation of the plaintiff in the minds of reasonable people) and refers to the plaintiff, a prima facie case of defamation is made out. The burden then shifts to the defendant to argue a justification, such as truth, or fair comment, or privileged communication. Notice that defamation, in this form, is a strict liability offence: that is, the publisher cannot save himself even if he has taken due care in researching and writing his story. Even an inadvertent factual error can result in liability. Furthermore, there are many things that straddle a very uncomfortable barrier between “fact” and “opinion” (“opinions” are generally not punishable for defamation): for example, if I call you “corrupt”, have I made a statement of fact, or one of opinion? Much of reporting – especially political reporting – falls within this slipstream.

The legal standard of defamation, therefore, puts almost all the burden upon the publisher, a burden that will often be impossible to discharge – as well as potentially penalising the smallest error. Given the difficulty in fact-checking just about everything, as well as the time pressures under which journalists operate, this is an unrealistic standard. What makes things even worse, however, is that there is no cap on damages, and that the plaintiff need not even demonstrate actual harm in making his claims. Judges have the discretion to award punitive damages, which are meant to serve both as an example and as a deterrent. When Infosys claims 2000 crores, therefore, it need not show that there has been a tangible drop in its sales, or that it has lost an important and lucrative contract – let alone showing that the loss was caused by the defamatory statement. All it needs to do is make abstract claims about loss of goodwill and reputation, which are inherently difficult to verify either way, and it stands a fair chance of winning.

A combination of onerous legal standards and crippling amounts in damages makes the defamation regime a very difficult one for journalists to operate freely in. We have discussed before the crucial role that journalists play in a system of free speech whose underlying foundation is the maintenance of democracy: a free press is essential to maintaining a check upon the actions of government and other powerful players, by subjecting them to scrutiny and critique, and ensuring that the public is aware of important facts that government might be keen to conceal. In chilling journalistic speech, therefore, defamation laws strike at the heart of Article 19(1)(a). When considering what the appropriate standards ought to be, a Court therefore must consider the simple fact that if defamation – as it stands today – is compromising the core of 19(1)(a) itself, then it is certainly not a “reasonable restriction” under 19(2) (some degree of proportionality is an important requirement for 19(2) reasonableness, as the Court has held many times).

This is not, however, a situation unique to India. In Singapore, for instance, “[political] leaders have won hundreds of thousands of dollars in damages in defamation cases against critics and foreign publications, which they have said are necessary to protect their reputations from unfounded attacks” – the defamation lawsuit, indeed, was reportedly a legal strategy used by Lee Kuan Yew against political opponents.

Particularly in the United States, the European Union and South Africa, however, this problem has been recognised, and acted upon. In the next post, we shall examine some of the legal techniques used in those jurisdictions, to counter the chilling effect that strict defamation laws can have on the press.

We discussed the use of civil defamation laws as weapons to stifle a free and critical press. One of the most notorious of such instances also birthed one of the most famous free speech cases in history: New York Times v. Sullivan. This was at the peak of the civil rights movement in the American South, which was accompanied by widespread violence and repression of protesters and civil rights activists. A full-page advertisement was taken out in the New York Times, titled Heed Their Rising Voices, which detailed some particularly reprehensible acts by the police in Montgomery, Alabama. It also contained some factual errors. For example, the advertisement mentioned that Martin Luther King Jr. had been arrested seven times, whereas he had only been arrested four times. It also stated that the Montgomery police had padlocked students into the university dining hall, in order to starve them into submission. That had not actually happened. On this basis, Sullivan, the Montgomery police commissioner, sued for libel. The Alabama courts awarded 500,000 dollars in damages. Because five other people in a situation similar to Sullivan were also suing, the total amount at stake was three million dollars – enough to potentially boycott the New York Times, and certainly enough to stop it from publishing about the civil rights movement.

In his book about the Sullivan case, Make No Law, Anthony Lewis notes that the stakes in the case were frighteningly high. The civil rights movement depended, for its success, upon stirring public opinion in the North. The press was just the vehicle to do it, reporting as it did on excessive police brutality against students and peaceful protesters, practices of racism and apartheid, and so on. Sullivan was a legal strategy to silence the press, and its weapon of choice was defamation law.

In a 9 – 0 decision, the Supreme Court found for the New York Times, and changed the face of free speech law (and, according to Lewis, saved the civil rights movement). Writing for the majority, Justice Brennan made the crucial point that in order to survive, free speech needed “breathing space” – that is, the space to make errors. Under defamation law, as it stood, “the pall of fear and timidity imposed upon those who would give voice to public criticism [is] an atmosphere in which the First Amendment freedoms cannot survive.” And under the burden of proving truth, “would-be critics of official conduct may be deterred from voicing their criticism, even though it is believed to be true and even though it is, in fact, true, because of doubt whether it can be proved in court or fear of the expense of having to do so. They tend to make only statements which "steer far wider of the unlawful zone." For these reasons, Justice Brennan laid down an “actual malice” test for defamation – that is, insofar as the statement in question concerned the conduct of a public official, it was actionable for defamation only if the publisher either knew it was false, or published it with “reckless disregard” for its veracity. After New York Times, this standard has expanded, and the press has never lost a defamation case.

There are some who argue that in its zeal to protect the press against defamation lawsuits by the powerful, the Sullivan court swung the opposite way. In granting the press a near-unqualified immunity to say whatever it wanted, it subordinated the legitimate interests of people to their reputation and their dignity to an intolerable degree, and ushered in a regime of media unaccountability. This is evidently what the South African courts felt. In Khulamo v. Holomisa, Justice O’Regan accepted that the common law of defamation would have to be altered so as to reflect the new South African Constitution’s guarantees of the freedom of speech. Much like Justice Brennan, she noted that “the media are important agents in ensuring that government is open, responsive and accountable to the people as the founding values of our Constitution require”, as well as the chilling effect in requiring journalists to prove the truth of everything they said. Nonetheless, she was not willing to go as far as the American Supreme Court did. Instead, she cited a previous decision by the Supreme Court of Appeals, and incorporated a “resonableness standard” into defamation law. That is, “if a publisher cannot establish the truth, or finds it disproportionately expensive or difficult to do so, the publisher may show that in all the circumstances the publication was reasonable. In determining whether publication was reasonable, a court will have regard to the individual’s interest in protecting his or her reputation in the context of the constitutional commitment to human dignity. It will also have regard to the individual’s interest in privacy. In that regard, there can be no doubt that persons in public office have a diminished right to privacy, though of course their right to dignity persists. It will also have regard to the crucial role played by the press in fostering a transparent and open democracy. The defence of reasonable publication avoids therefore a winner-takes-all result and establishes a proper balance between freedom of expression and the value of human dignity. Moreover, the defence of reasonable publication will encourage editors and journalists to act with due care and respect for the individual interest in human dignity prior to publishing defamatory material, without precluding them from publishing such material when it is reasonable to do so.”

The South African Constitutional Court thus adopts a middle path between the two opposite zero-sum games that are traditional defamation law, and American first amendment law. A similar effort was made in the United Kingdom – the birthplace of the common law of defamation – with the passage of the 2013 Defamation Act. Under English law, the plaintiff must now show that there is likely to be “serious harm” to his reputation, and there is also public interest exception.

While South Africa and the UK try to tackle the problem at the level of standards for defamation, the ECHR has taken another, equally interesting tack: by limiting the quantum of damages. In Tolstoy Milolasky v. United Kingdom, it found a 1.5 million pound damage award “disproportionately large”, and held that there was a violation of the ECHR’s free speech guarantee that could not be justified as necessary in a democratic society.

Thus, constitutional courts the world over have noticed the adverse impact traditional defamation law has on free speech and a free press. They have devised a multiplicity of ways to deal with this, some more speech-protective than others: from America’s absolutist standards, to South Africa’s “reasonableness” and the UK’s “public interest” exceptions, to the ECHR’s limitation of damages. It is about time that the Indian Courts took this issue seriously: there is no dearth of international guidance.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-civil-defamation

FOEX Live: June 16-23, 2014

geetha — 2014-06-24T10:23:18Z

A weekly selection of news on online freedom of expression and digital technology from across India (and some parts of the world).

A quick and non-exhaustive perusal of this week’s content shows that many people are worried about the state of India’s free speech following police action on account of posts derogatory to or critical of the Prime Minister. Lawyers, journalists, former civil servants and other experts have joined in expressing this worry.

While a crackdown on freedom of expression would indeed be catastrophic and possibly unconstitutional, fears are so far based on police action in only 4 recent cases: Syed Waqar in Karnataka, Devu Chodankar in Goa and two cases in Kerala where college students and principals were arrested for derogatory references to Modi. Violence in Pune, such as the murder of a young Muslim man on his way home from prayer, or the creation of a Social Peace Force of citizens to police offensive Facebook content, are all related, but perhaps ought to be more carefully and deeply explored.

Kerala:

In the Assembly, State Home Minister Ramesh Chennithala said that the State government did not approve of the registration of cases against students on grounds of anti-Modi publications. The Minister denunciation of political opponents through cartoons and write-ups was common practice in Kerala, and “booking the authors for this was not the state government’s policy”.

Maharashtra:

Nearly 20,000 people have joined the Social Peace Force, a Facebook group that aims to police offensive content on the social networking site. The group owner’s stated aim is to target religious posts that may provoke riots, not political ones. Subjective determinations of what qualifies as ‘offensive content’ remain a troubling issue.

Tamil Nadu:

In Chennai, 101 people, including filmmakers, writers, civil servants and activists, have signed a petition requesting Chief Minister J. Jayalalithaa to permit safe screening of the Indo-Sri Lankan film “With You, Without You”. The petition comes after theatres cancelled shows of the film following threatening calls from some Tamil groups.

Telangana:

The K. Chandrasekhar Rao government has blocked two Telugu news channels for airing content that was “derogatory, highly objectionable and in bad taste”.

The Telagana government’s decision to block news channels has its supporters. Padmaja Shaw considers the mainstream Andhra media contemptuous and disrespectful of “all things Telangana”, while Madabushi Sridhar concludes that Telugu channel TV9’s coverage violates the dignity of the legislature.

West Bengal:

Seemingly anti-Modi arrests have led to worry among citizens about speaking freely on the Internet. Section 66A poses a particular threat.

News & Opinion:

The Department of Telecom is preparing a draft of the National Telecom Policy, in which it plans to treat broadband Internet as a basic right. The Policy, which will include deliberations on affordable broadband access for end users, will be finalised in 100 days.

While addressing a CII CEO’s Roundtable on Media and Industry, Information and Broadcasting Minister Prakash Javadekar promised a transparent and stable policy regime, operating on a time-bound basis. He promised that efforts would be streamlined to ensure speedy and transparent clearances.

A perceived increase in police action against anti-Modi publications or statements has many people worried. But the Prime Minister himself was once a fierce proponent of dissent; in protest against the then-UPA government’s blocking of webpages, Modi changed his display pic to black.

Medianama wonders whether the Mumbai police’s Cyber Lab and helpline to monitor offensive content on the Internet is actually a good idea.

G. Sampath wonders why critics of the Prime Minister Narendra Modi can’t voluntarily refrain from exercising their freedom of speech, and allow India to be an all-agreeable development haven. Readers may find his sarcasm subtle and hard to catch.

Experts in India mull over whether Section 79 of the Information Technology Act, 2000, carries a loophole enabling users to exercise a ‘right to be forgotten’. Some say Section 79 does not prohibit user requests to be forgotten, while others find it unsettling to provide private intermediaries such powers of censorship.

Some parts of the world:

Sri Lanka has banned public meetings or rallies intended to promote religious hatred.

In Pakistan, Twitter has restored accounts and tweets that were taken down last month on allegations of being blasphemous or ‘unethical’.

In Myanmar, an anti-hate speech network has been proposed throughout the country to raise awareness and opposition to hate speech and violence.

For feedback, comments and any incidents of online free speech violation you are troubled or intrigued by, please email Geetha at geetha[at]cis-india.org or on Twitter at @covertlight.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/foex-live-june-16-23-2014

WSIS+10 High Level Event: A Bird's Eye Report

geetha — 2014-06-20T15:57:32Z

The WSIS+10 High Level was organised by the ITU and collaborative UN entities on June 9-13, 2014. It aimed to evaluate the progress on implementation of WSIS Outcomes from Geneva 2003 and Tunis 2005, and to envision a post-2015 Development Agenda. Geetha Hariharan attended the event on CIS' behalf.

The World Summit on Information Society (WSIS) +10 High Level Event (HLE) was hosted at the ITU Headquarters in Geneva, from June 9-13, 2014. The HLE aimed to review the implementation and progress made on information and communication technology (ICT) across the globe, in light of WSIS outcomes (Geneva 2003 and Tunis 2005). Organised in three parallel tracks, the HLE sought to take stock of progress in ICTs in the last decade (High Level track), initiate High Level Dialogues to formulate the post-2015 development agenda, as well as host thematic workshops for participants (Forum track).

The High Level Track:

Opening Ceremony, WSIS+10 High Level Event (Source)

The High Level track opened officially on June 10, 2014, and culminated with the endorsement by acclamation (as is ITU tradition) of two Outcome Documents. These were: (1) WSIS+10 Statement on the Implementation of WSIS Outcomes, taking stock of ICT developments since the WSIS summits, (2) WSIS+10 Vision for WSIS Beyond 2015, aiming to develop a vision for the post-2015 global information society. These documents were the result of the WSIS+10 Multi-stakeholder Preparatory Platform (MPP), which involved WSIS stakeholders (governments, private sector, civil society, international organizations and relevant regional organizations).

The MPP met in six phases, convened as an open, inclusive consultation among WSIS stakeholders. It was not without its misadventures. While ITU Secretary General Dr. Hamadoun I. Touré consistently lauded the multi-stakeholder process, and Ambassador Janis Karklins urged all parties, especially governments, to “let the UN General Assembly know that the multi-stakeholder model works for Internet governance at all levels”, participants in the process shared stories of discomfort, disagreement and discord amongst stakeholders on various IG issues, not least human rights on the Internet, surveillance and privacy, and multi-stakeholderism. Richard Hill of the Association for Proper Internet Governance (APIG) and the Just Net Coalition writes that like NETmundial, the MPP was rich in a diversity of views and knowledge exchange, but stakeholders failed to reach consensus on crucial issues. Indeed, Prof. Vlamidir Minkin, Chairman of the MPP, expressed his dismay at the lack of consensus over action line C9. A compromise was agreed upon in relation to C9 later.

Some members of civil society expressed their satisfaction with the extensive references to human rights and rights-centred development in the Outcome Documents. While governmental opposition was seen as frustrating, they felt that the MPP had sought and achieved a common understanding, a sentiment echoed by the ITU Secretary General. Indeed, even Iran, a state that had expressed major reservations during the MPP and felt itself unable to agree with the text, agreed that the MPP had worked hard to draft a document beneficial to all.

Concerns around the MPP did not affect the review of ICT developments over the last decade. High Level Panels with Ministers of ICT from states such as Uganda, Bangladesh, Sweden, Nigeria, Saudi Arabia and others, heads of the UN Development Programme, UNCTAD, Food and Agriculture Organisation, UN-WOMEN and others spoke at length of rapid advances in ICTs. The focus was largely on ICT access and affordability in developing states. John E. Davies of Intel repeatedly drew attention to innovative uses of ICTs in Africa and Asia, which have helped bridge divides of affordability, gender, education and capacity-building. Public-private partnerships were the best solution, he said, to affordability and access. At a ceremony evaluating implementation of WSIS action-lines, the Centre for Development of Advanced Computing (C-DAC), India, won an award for its e-health application MOTHER.

The Outcome Documents themselves shall be analysed in a separate post. But in sum, the dialogue around Internet governance at the HLE centred around the success of the MPP. Most participants on panels and in the audience felt this was a crucial achievement within the realm of the UN, where the Tunis Summit had delineated strict roles for stakeholders in paragraph 35 of the Tunis Agenda. Indeed, there was palpable relief in Conference Room 1 at the CICG, Geneva, when on June 11, Dr. Touré announced that the Outcome Documents would be adopted without a vote, in keeping with ITU tradition, even if consensus was achieved by compromise.

The High Level Dialogues:

Prof. Vladimir Minkin delivers a statement. (Source)

The High Level Dialogues on developing a post-2015 Development Agenda, based on WSIS action lines, were active on June 12. Introducing the Dialogue, Dr. Touré lamented the Millennium Development Goals as a “lost opportunity”, emphasizing the need to alert the UN General Assembly and its committees as to the importance of ICTs for development.

As on previous panels, there was intense focus on access, affordability and reach in developing countries, with Rwanda and Bangladesh expounding upon their successes in implementing ICT innovations domestically. The world is more connected than it was in 2005, and the ITU in 2014 is no longer what it was in 2003, said speakers. But we lack data on ICT deployment across the globe, said Minister Knutssen of Sweden, recalling the gathering to the need to engage all stakeholders in this task. Speakers on multiple panels, including the Rwandan Minister for CIT, Marilyn Cade of ICANN and Petra Lantz of the UNDP, emphasized the need for ‘smart engagement’ and capacity-building for ICT development and deployment.

A crucial session on cybersecurity saw Dr. Touré envision a global peace treaty accommodating multiple stakeholders. On the panel were Minister Omobola Johnson of Nigeria, Prof. Udo Helmbrecht of the European Union Agency for Network and Information Security (ENISA), Prof. A.A. Wahab of Cybersecurity Malaysia and Simon Muller of Facebook. The focus was primarily on building laws and regulations for secure communication and business, while child protection was equally considered.

The lack of laws/regulations for cybersecurity (child pornography and jurisdictional issues, for instance), or other legal protections (privacy, data protection, freedom of speech) in rapidly connecting developing states was noted. But the question of cross-border surveillance and wanton violations of privacy went unaddressed except for the customary, unavoidable mention. This was expected. Debates in Internet governance have, in the past year, been silently and invisibly driven by the Snowden revelations. So too, at WSIS+10 Cybersecurity, speakers emphasized open data, information exchange, data ownership and control (the right to be forgotten), but did not openly address surveillance. Indeed, Simon Muller of Facebook called upon governments to publish their own transparency reports: A laudable suggestion, even accounting for Facebook’s own undetailed and truncated reports.

In a nutshell, the post-2015 Development Agenda dialogues repeatedly emphasized the importance of ICTs in global connectivity, and their impact on GDP growth and socio-cultural change and progress. The focus was on taking this message to the UN General Assembly, engaging all stakeholders and creating an achievable set of action lines post-2015.

The Forum Track:

Participants at the UNESCO session on its Comprehensive Study on Internet-related Issues (Source)

The HLE was organized as an extended version of the WSIS Forum, which hosts thematic workshops and networking opportunities, much like any other conference. Running in parallel sessions over 5 days, the WSIS Forum hosted sessions by the ITU, UNESCO, UNDP, ICANN, ISOC, APIG, etc., on issues as diverse as the WSIS Action Lines, the future of Internet governance, the successes and failures of WCIT-2012, UNESCO’s Comprehensive Study on Internet-related Issues, spam and a taxonomy of Internet governance.

Detailed explanation of each session I attended is beyond the scope of this report, so I will limit myself to the interesting issues raised.

At ICANN’s session on its own future (June 9), Ms. Marilyn Cade emphasized the importance of national and regional IGFs for both issue-awareness and capacity-building. Mr. Nigel Hickson spoke of engagement at multiple Internet governance fora: “Internet governance is not shaped by individual events”. In light of criticism of ICANN’s apparent monopoly over IANA stewardship transition, this has been ICANN’s continual response (often repeated at the HLE itself). Also widely discussed was the role of stakeholders in Internet governance, given the delineation of roles and responsibilities in the Tunis Agenda, and governments’ preference for policy-monopoly (At WSIS+10, Indian Ambassador Dilip Sinha seemed wistful that multilateralism is a “distant dream”).

This discussion bore greater fruit in a session on Internet governance ‘taxonomy’. The session saw Mr. George Sadowsky, Dr. Jovan Kurbalija, Mr. William Drake and Mr. Eliot Lear (there is surprisingly no official profile-page on Mr. Lear) expound on dense structures of Internet governance, involving multiple methods of classification of Internet infrastructure, CIRs, public policy issues, etc. across a spectrum of ‘baskets’ – socio-cultural, economic, legal, technical. Such studies, though each attempting clarity in Internet governance studies, indicate that the closer you get to IG, the more diverse and interconnected the eco-system gets. David Souter’s diagrams almost capture the flux of dynamic debate in this area (please see pages 9 and 22 of this ISOC study).

There were, for most part, insightful interventions from session participants. Mr. Sadowsky questioned the effectiveness of the Tunis Agenda delineation of stakeholder-roles, while Mr. Lear pleaded that techies be let to do their jobs without interference. Ms. Anja Kovacs raised pertinent concerns about including voiceless minorities in a ‘rough consensus’ model. Across sessions, questions of mass surveillance, privacy and data ownership rose from participants. The protection of human rights on the Internet – especially freedom of expression and privacy – made continual appearance, across issues like spam (Question 22-1/1 of ITU-D Study Group 1) and cybersecurity.

Conclusion:

The HLE was widely attended by participants across WSIS stakeholder-groups. At the event, a great many relevant questions such as the future of ICTs, inclusions in the post-2015 Development Agenda, the value of muti-stakeholder models, and human rights such as free speech and privacy were raised across the board. Not only were these raised, but cognizance was taken of them by Ministers, members of the ITU and other collaborative UN bodies, private sector entities such as ICANN, technical community such as the ISOC and IETF, as well as (obviously) civil society.

Substantively, the HLE did not address mass surveillance and privacy, nor of expanding roles of WSIS stakeholders and beyond. Processually, the MPP failed to reach consensus on several issues comfortably, and a compromise had to be brokered.

But perhaps a big change at the HLE was the positive attitude to multi-stakeholder models from many quarters, not least the ITU Secretary General Dr. Hamadoun Touré. His repeated calls for acceptance of multi-stakeholderism left many members of civil society surprised and tentatively pleased. Going forward, it will be interesting to track the ITU and the rest of UN’s (and of course, member states’) stances on multi-stakeholderism at the ITU Plenipot, the WSIS+10 Review and the UN General Assembly session, at the least.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/wsis-10-high-level-event-a-birds-eye-report

Free Speech and Source Protection for Journalists

Gautam Bhatia — 2014-06-19T20:10:28Z

Gautam Bhatia explores journalistic source protection from the perspective of the right to freedom of speech & expression. In this post, he articulates clearly the centrality of source protection to press freedoms, and surveys the differing legal standards in the US, Europe and India.

In the previous post, we discussed Vincent Blasi’s pathological perspective on free speech. The argument forms part of a broader conception that Blasi calls the “checking value of the First Amendment”. Blasi argues that the most important role of free speech is to “check” government abuses and reveal to the public information that government wants to keep secret from them. Naturally, in this model – which is a specific application of the democracy-centred theory of free speech – the press and the media become the most important organs of a system of free expression.

In addition to the checking value of free speech, there is another consideration that is now acknowledged by Courts in most jurisdictions, including our Supreme Court. When we speak about the “right” to free speech, we do not just mean – as might seem at first glance – the right of speakers to speak unhindered. We also mean the rights of listeners and hearers to receive information. A classic example is the Indian Supreme Court’s opinion in LIC v. Manubhai D. Shah, which used Article 19(1)(a) to vest a right-of-reply in a person who had been criticised in a newspaper editorial, on the ground of providing a balanced account to readers. Furthermore, instruments like the ICCPR and the ECHR make this clear in the text of the free speech right as well. For instance, Article 19 of the ICCPR states that “everyone shall have the right to freedom of expression; this right shall include freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas of all kinds.”

In addition to the individual right to receive information and ideas, free speech need not be understood exclusively in the language of a right at all. Free speech also serves as a public good – that is to say, a society with a thriving system of free expression is, all things considered, better off than a society without it. The unique value that free speech serves, as a public good, is in creating an atmosphere of accountability and openness that goes to the heart of the constitutive ideals of modern liberal democracies. As Justice Hugo Black noted, a good system of free speech “rests on the assumption that the widest possible dissemination of information from diverse and antagonistic sources is essential to the welfare of the public.” Unsurprisingly, he went on to add immediately after, that “a free press is a condition of a free society.”

If free speech is about the right to receive information, and about the public good of a society in which information circulates freely and widely, then the vehicles of information occupy a central position in any theory or doctrine about the scope of the constitutional right. In our societies, the press is perhaps the most important of those vehicles.

Establishing the crucial role of the free press in free speech theory is important to understand a crucial issue that has largely gone unaddressed in Indian constitutional and statutory law: that of source-protection laws for journalists. A source-protection law exempts journalists from having to compulsorily reveal their sources when ordered to do so by government or by courts. Such exemptions form part of ordinary Indian statutory law: under the Indian Evidence Act, for example, communications between spouses are “privileged” – that is, inadmissible as evidence in Court.

The question came up before the US Supreme Court in Branzburg v. Hayes. In a 5-4 split, the majority ruled against an unqualified reporters’ privilege, that could be invoked in all circumstances. However, all the justices understood the importance of the issue. Justice White, writing for the majority, held that government must “convincingly show a substantial relation between the information sought and a subject of overriding and compelling state interest.” Justice Powell’s concurring opinion emphasised that the balance must be struck on a case-to-case basis. Since Branzburg, there has been no federal legislation dealing with source protection. A number of states have, however, passed “shield laws”, albeit with broad national security exceptions.

Perhaps the reason for the American Supreme Court’s reticence lies in its reluctance – notwithstanding Justice Black’s ringing oratory – to place journalists on any kind of special pedestal above the rest of the public. The European Court of Human Rights, however, has felt no such compunctions. In Goodwin v. UK, the ECHR made it clear that the press serves a crucial function as a “public watchdog” (a consistent theme in the ECHR’s jurisprudence). Compelled disclosure of sources would definitely have a chilling effect on the functioning of the press, since sources would be hesitant to speak – and journalists would be reluctant to jeopardise their sources – if it was easy to get a court order requiring disclosure. Consequently, the ECHR – which is normally hesitant to intervene in domestic matters, and accords a wide margin of appreciation to states, found the UK to be in violation of the Convention. Journalists could only be compelled to reveal their sources if there was an “overriding requirement in the public interest.”

Where both the United States and Europe have recognised the importance of source-protection, and the simple fact that some degree of source protection is essential if the press is to perform its checking – or watchdog – function effectively, Indian jurisprudence on the issue is negligible. The Law Commission has twice proposed some manner of a shield law, but no concrete action has been taken upon its recommendations.

In the absence of any law, Article 19(1)(a) could play a direct role in the matter. As argued at the beginning of this post, the Supreme Court has accepted the democracy-based justification for free speech, as well as the individual right to receive information. Both these arguments necessarily make the role of the press crucial, and the role of the press is dependant on maintaining the confidentiality of sources. Thus, there ought to be an Article 19(1)(a) right that journalists can invoke against compelled disclosure. If this is so, then any disclosure can only be required through law; and the law, in turn, must be a reasonable restriction in the interests of public order, which – in turn, has normally been given a narrow interpretation by the Supreme Court in cases such as Ram Manohar Lohia.

It is unclear, however, whether the Courts will be sympathetic. As this article points out, while the Supreme Court has yet to rule on this issue, various High Courts have ordered disclosure, seemingly without much concern for the free speech implications. One thing is evident though: either a strong shield law, or a definitive Supreme Court ruling, is required to fill the current vacuum that exists.

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For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-source-protection-for-journalists

UN Human Rights Council urged to protect human rights online

geetha — 2014-06-19T13:28:32Z

63 civil society groups urged the UN Human Rights Council to address global challenges to freedom of expression, privacy and other human rights on the Internet. Centre for Internet & Society joined in the statement, delivered on behalf of the 63 groups by Article 19.

The 26th session of the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) is currently ongoing (June 10-27, 2014). On June 19, 2014, 63 civil society groups joined together to urge the United Nations Human Rights Council to protect human rights online and address global challenged to their realization. Centre for Internet & Society joined in support of the statement ("the Civil Society Statement"), which was delivered by Article 19 on behalf of the 63 groups.

In its consensus resolution A/HRC/20/8 (2012), the UNHRC affirmed that the "same rights that people have offline must also be protected online, in particular freedom of expression, which is applicable regardless of frontiers and through any media of one’s choice". India, a current member of the UNHRC, stood in support of resolution 20/8. The protection of human rights online was also a matter of popular agreement at NETmundial 2014, which similarly emphasised the importance of protecting human rights online in accordance with international human rights obligations. Moreover, the WSIS+10 High Level Event, organised by the ITU in collaboration with other UN entities, emphasized the criticality of expanding access to ICTs across the globe, including infrastructure, affordability and reach.

The Civil Society Statement at HRC26 highlights the importance of retaining the Internet as a global resource - a democratic, free and pluralistic platform. However, the recent record of freedom of expression and privacy online have resulted in a deficit of trust and free, democratic participation. Turkey, Malaysia, Thailand, Egypt and Pakistan have blocked web-pages and social media content, while Edward Snowden's revelations have heightened awareness of human rights violations on the Internet.

At a time when governance of the Internet and its institutions is evolving, a human rights centred perspective is crucial. Openness and transparency - both in the governance of Internet institutions and rights online - are crucial to continuing growth of the Internet as a global, democratic and free resource, where freedom of expression, privacy and other rights are respected regardless of location or nationality. In particular, the Civil Society Statement calls attention to principles of necessity and proportionality to regulate targeted interception and collection of personal data.

The UNHRC, comprising 47 member states, is called upon to address these global challenges. Guided by resolutions A/HRC/20/8 and A/RES/68/167, the WSIS+10 High Level Event Outcome Documents (especially operative paragraphs 2, 8 and 11 of the Vision Document) and the forthcoming report of the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights regarding privacy in the digital age, the UNHRC as well as other states may gather the opportunity and intention to put forth a strong case for human rights online in our post-2015 development-centred world.

Civil Society Statement:

The full oral statement can be accessed here.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/un-human-rights-council-urged-to-protect-human-rights-online

FOEX Live: June 8-15, 2014

geetha — 2014-06-16T10:22:31Z

A weekly selection of news on online freedom of expression and digital technology from across India (and some parts of the world). Please email relevant news/cases/incidents to geetha[at]cis-india.org.

Karnataka:

A Hindu rightwing group demanded the arrest of a prominent activist, who during a speech on the much-debated Anti-superstition Bill, made comments that are allegedly blasphemous.

Kerala:

On June 10, the principal and six students of Government Polytechnic at Kunnamkulam, Thrissur, were arrested for publishing a photograph of Prime Minister Narendra Modi alongside photographs of Hitler, Osana bin Laden and Ajmal Kasab, under the rubric ‘negative faces’. An FIR was registered against them for various offences under the Indian Penal Code including defamation (Section 500), printing or engraving matter known to be defamatory (Section 501), intentional insult with intent to provoke breach of peace (Section 504), and concealing design to commit offence (Section 120) read with Section 34 (acts done by several persons in furtherance of common intention). The principal was later released on bail.

In a similarly unsettling incident, on June 14, 2014, a case was registered against the principal and 11 students of Sree Krishna College, Guruvayur, for using “objectionable and unsavoury” language in a crossword in relation to PM Narendra Modi, Rahul Gandhi, Shashi Tharoor, etc. Those arrested were later released on bail.

Maharashtra:

Facebook posts involving objectionable images of Dr. B.R. Ambedkar led to arson and vandalism in Pune. Police have sought details of the originating IP address from Facebook.

A Pune-based entrepreneur has set up a Facebook group to block ‘offensive’ posts against religious leaders. The Social Peace Force will use Facebook’s ‘Report Spam’ option to take-down of ‘offensive’ material.

Deputy Chief Minister Ajit Pawar suggested a ban on social media in India, and retracted his statement post-haste.

Punjab:

A bailable warrant was issued against singer Kailash Kher for failing to appear in court in relation to a case. The singer is alleged to have hurt religious sentiments of the Hindu community in a song, and a case registered under Sections 295A and 298, Indian Penal Code.

Uttar Pradesh:

The presence of a photograph on Facebook, in which an accused in a murder case is found posing with an illegal firearm, resulted in a case being registered against him under the IT Act.

News & Opinion:

Authors, civil society activists and other concerned citizens issued a joint statement questioning Prime Minister Modi’s silence over arrests and attacks on exercise of free speech and dissent. Signatories include Aruna Roy, Romila Thapar, Baba Adhav, Vivan Sundaram, Mrinal Pande, Jean Dreze, Jayati Ghosh, Anand Pathwardhan and Mallika Sarabhai.

In response to Mumbai police’s decision to take action against those who ‘like’ objectionable or offensive content on Facebook, experts say the freedom to ‘like’ or ‘share’ posts or tweets is fundamental to freedom of expression. India’s defamation laws for print and the Internet need harmonization, moreover.

While supporting freedom of expression, Minister for Information and Broadcasting Prakash Javadekar cautioned the press and all users of social media that the press and social media should be used responsibly for unity and peace. The Minister has also spoken out in favour of free publication, in light of recent legal action against academic work and other books.

Infosys, India’s leading IT company, served defamation notices on the Economic Times, the Times of India and the Financial Express, for “loss and reputation and goodwill due to circulation of defamatory articles”. Removal of articles and an unconditional apology were sought, and Infosys claimed damages amounting to Rs. 2000 crore. On a related note, Dr. Ashok Prasad argues that criminal defamation is a violation of freedom of speech.

Drawing on examples from the last 3 years, Ritika Katyal analyses India’s increasing violence and legal action against dissent and hurt sentiment, and concludes that Prime Minister Narendra Modi has both the responsibility and ability to “rein in Hindu hardliners”.

Discretionary powers resting with the police under the vaguely and broadly drafted Section 66A, Information Technology Act, are dangerous and unconstitutional, say experts.

Providing an alternative view, the Hindustan Times comments that the police ought to “pull up their socks” and understand the social media in order to effectively police objectionable and offensive content on the Internet.

Keeping Track:

Indconlawphil’s Free Speech Watch keeps track of violations of freedom of expression in India.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/foex-live-june-8-15-2014

Free Speech and Contempt of Courts – II: Article 19(1)(a) and Indian Law

gautam — 2014-06-16T05:48:55Z

Gautam Bhatia continues his examination of free speech implications of the law of contempt: the power that equips courts to "protect the dignity of the Bench".

Towards the end of the last post, we saw how the Law Commission traced the genealogy of the “scandalising the Court” offence, inasmuch as it sought to protect the “standing of the judiciary”, to that of seditious libel. The basic idea is the same: if people are allowed to criticise state institutions in derogatory terms, then they can influence their fellow-citizens who, in turn, will lose respect for those institutions. Consequently, the authority of those institutions will be diminished, and they will be unable to effectively perform their functions. Hence, we prevent that eventuality by prohibiting certain forms of speech when it concerns the functioning of the government (seditious libel) or the Courts (scandalising the Court). This, of course, often ties the judges into knots, in determining the exact boundary between strident – but legitimate – criticism, and sedition/scandalising the Court.

Seditious libel, of course, went out in the United States with the repeal of the Sedition Act in 1800, and was abolished in the England in 2009. Notoriously, it still remains on the statute books in India, in the form of S. 124A of the Indian Penal Code. An examination of the Supreme Court’s sedition jurisprudence would, therefore, be apposite. Section 124A makes it an offence to bring or attempt to bring into hatred or contempt, or excite or attempt to excite, disaffection, towards the government. The locus classicus is Kedar Nath Singh v. Union of India. I have analysed the case in detail elsewhere, but briefly, Kedar Nath Singh limited the scope of 124A to incitement to violence, or fostering public disorder, within the clear terms of Article 19(2). In other words, prosecution for sedition, if it was to succeed, would have to satisfy the Court’s public order jurisprudence under Article 19(2). The public order test itself – as we discussed previously on this blog, in a post about Section 66A – was set out in highly circumscribed terms in Ram Manohar Lohia’s Case, which essentially required a direct and imminent degree of proximity between the speech or expression, and the breach of public order (in that case, the Court refused to sustain the conviction of a speaker who expressly encouraged an audience to break the law). Subsequently, in S. Rangarajan v. P. Jagjivan Ram, the Court noted that the relation ought to be like that of a “spark in a powder keg” – something akin to inciting an enraged mob to immediate violence. Something that the Court has clearly rejected is the argument that it is permissible to criminalise speech and expression simply because its content might lower the authority of the government in the eyes of the public, which, in turn, could foster a disrespect for law and the State, and lead to breaches of public order.

Unfortunately, however, when it comes to contempt and scandalising, the Court has adopted exactly the chain of reasoning that it has rejected in the public order cases. As early as 1953, in Aswini Kumar Ghose v. Arabinda Bose, the Court observed that “it is obvious that if an impression is created in the minds of the public that the Judges in the highest Court in the land act on extraneous considerations in deciding cases, the confidence of the whole community in the administration of justice is bound to be undermined and no greater mischief than that can possibly be imagined.”

Subsequently, in D.C. Saxena v. CJI, the Court held that “Any criticism about judicial system or the judges which hampers the administration of justice or which erodes the faith in the objective approach of the judges and brings administration of justice to ridicule must be prevented. The contempt of court proceedings arise out of that attempt. Judgments can be criticised. Motives to the judges need not be attributed. It brings the administration of justice into disrepute. Faith in the administration of justice is one of the pillars on which democratic institution functions and sustains.” Notice the chain of causation the Court is working with here: it holds faith in the administration of justice as a necessary pre-requisite to the administration of justice, and prohibits criticism that would cause other people to lose their faith in the judiciary. This is exactly akin to a situation in which I make an argument advocating Marxist theory, and I am punished because some people, on reading my article, might start to hold the government in contempt, and attempt to overthrow it by violent means. Not only is it absurd, it is also entirely disrespectful of individual autonomy: it is based on the assumption that the person legally and morally responsibly for a criminal act is not the actor, but the person who convinced the actor through words and arguments, to break the law – as though individuals are incapable of weighing up competing arguments and coming to decisions of their own accord. Later on, in the same case, the Court holds that scandalising includes “all acts which bring the court into disrepute or disrespect or which offend its dignity or its majesty or challenge its authority.” As we have seen before, however, disrepute or disrespect of an institution cannot in itself be a ground for punishment, unless there is something more. That something more is actual disruption of justice, which is presumably caused by people who have lost their confidence in the judiciary, but in eliding disrepute/disrespect with obstruction of justice, the Court entirely fails to consider the individual agency involved in crossing that bridge, the agency that is not that of the original speaker. This is why, again, in its sedition cases, the Court has gone out of its way to actually require a proximate relation between “disaffection” and public order breaches, in order to save the section from unconstitutionality. Its contempt jurisprudence, on the other hand, shows no such regard. It is perhaps telling that the Court, one paragraph on, adopts the “blaze of glory” formulation that was used in an 18^th century, pre-democratic English case.

Indeed, the Court draws an express analogy with sedition, holding that “malicious or slanderous publication inculcates in the mind of the people a general disaffection and dissatisfaction on the judicial determination and indisposes in their mind to obey them.” Even worse, it then takes away even the basic protection of mens rea, holding that all that matters is the effect of the impugned words, regardless of the intention/recklessness with which they were uttered. The absence of mens rea, along with the absence of any meaningful proximity requirement, makes for a very dangerous cocktail – an offence that can cover virtually any activity that the Court believes has a “tendency” to certain outcomes: “Therefore, a tendency to scandalise the court or tendency to lower the authority of the court or tendency to interfere with or tendency to obstruct the administration of justice in any manner or tendency to challenge the authority or majesty of justice, would be a criminal contempt. The offending act apart, any tendency if it may lead to or tends to lower the authority of the court is a criminal contempt. Any conduct of the contemnor which has the tendency or produces a tendency to bring the judge or court into contempt or tends to lower the authority of the court would also be contempt of the court.”

The assumption implicit in these judgments – that the people need to be protected from certain forms of speech, because they are incompetent at making up their own minds, in a reasonable manner, about it – was made express in Arundhati Roy’s Case, in 2002. After making observations about how confidence in the Courts could not be allowed to be “tarnished” at any cost, the Court noted that “the respondent has tried to cast an injury to the public by creating an impression in the mind of the people of this backward country regarding the integrity, ability and fairness of the institution of judiciary”, observed that the purpose of the offence was to protect the (presumably backward) public by maintaining its confidence in the judiciary, which had been enacted keeping in mind “the ground realities and prevalent socio-economic system in India, the vast majority of whose people are poor, ignorant, uneducated, easily liable to be misled. But who acknowledly (sic) have the tremendous faith in the dispensers of Justice.” So easy, indeed, to mislead, that there was no need for any evidence to demonstrate it: “the well-known proposition of law is that it punishes the archer as soon as the arrow is shot no matter if it misses to hit the target. The respondent is proved to have shot the arrow, intended to damage the institution of the judiciary and thereby weaken the faith of the public in general and if such an attempt is not prevented, disastrous consequences are likely to follow resulting in the destruction of rule of law, the expected norm of any civilised society.”

The American legal scholar, Vince Blasi, has outlined a “pathological perspective” of free speech. According to him, heightened protection of speech – even to the extent of protecting worthless speech – is important, because when the government passes laws to regulate speech that is hostile towards it, it will, in all likelihood, over-regulate purely out of self-interest, sometimes even unconsciously so. This is why, if the Courts err, they ought to err on the side of speech-protection, because it is quite likely that the government has over-estimated public order and other threats that stem out of hostile speech towards government itself. The pathological perspective is equally – if not more – applicable in the realm of contempt of Court, because here the Court is given charge of regulating speech hostile towards itself. Keenly aware of the perils of speech suppression that lie in such situations, we have seen that the United States and England have abolished the offence, and the Privy Council has interpreted it extremely narrowly.

The Indian Supreme Court, however, has gone in precisely the opposite direction. It has used the Contempt of Court statute to create a strict-liability criminal offence, with boundlessly manipulable categories, which is both overbroad and vague, entirely inconsistent with the Court’s own free speech jurisprudence, and at odds with free speech in a liberal democracy.

Gautam Bhatia — @gautambhatia88 on Twitter — is a graduate of the National Law School of India University (2011), and presently an LLM student at the Yale Law School. He blogs about the Indian Constitution at http://indconlawphil.wordpress.com. Here at CIS, he blogs on issues of online freedom of speech and expression.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-contempt-of-courts-2013-ii-article-19-1-a-and-indian-law

Right to be forgotten poses a legal dilemma in India

praskrishna — 2014-06-09T10:02:25Z

The “right to be forgotten” judgment has raised a controversy, while some argue that it upholds an individual’s privacy, others say it leaves a lot of room for interpretation.

The article by Leslie D' Monte was published in Livemint on June 5, 2014. Sunil Abraham gave his inputs.

Medianama.com has become perhaps the first Indian website to be asked by an individual to remove a link, failing which the user would approach Google Inc. to delete the link under the “right to be forgotten” provision granted by a European court. There’s one hitch: India doesn’t have any legal provision to entertain or process such request.

In his request to the media website, the individual cited a landmark 13 May judgment by the Court of Justice of the European Union (EU), which said users could ask search engines like Google or Bing to remove links to web pages that contain information about them.

According to the judgement, the user is also free to approach “the competent authorities in order to obtain, under certain conditions, the removal of that link from the list of results” if the search engines do not comply.

“...this individual told us of a plan to appeal to Google on the basis of the judgment of the European Court of Justice, and asked us to either convert the public post into a non-indexable post, such that it may not be surfaced by search engines, or to modify the individual’s name, place and any references to his/her employer in the post that we’ve written, so that it cannot be linked directly to the individual,” said Nikhil Pahwa, founder of medianama.com.

Pahwa did not reveal the identity of the individual, who made the request on 31 May. Medianama, according to Pahwa, had written about the individual “a few years ago, protesting against attacks on his/her freedom of speech.” It did not give details. The media website reported about the request on 2 June.

Under legal pressure, the individual eventually relented and retracted the request.

The individual, Pahwa said, requested medianama.com to retain only his last name on the web page, cautioning that if the website does not do so, he would submit the URL (uniform resource locator or address of that link) of that web page to Google in a “right to be forgotten” request.

This, Pahwa said, “might hurt our search ranking, or lead to a blanket removal of our website from Google’s search index.”

“This is a tricky one, and we’ve declined this request,” said Pahwa. He added that “the implications for media are immense, since digital data, which is a recording of online history, will be affected.”

The EU ruling came after a Spanish national complained in 2010 that searching his name in Google threw up links to two newspaper webpages which reported a property auction to recover social security debt he once owed, even though the information had become irrelevant since the proceedings had since been resolved.

Following the ruling, Google put up an online form (mintne.ws/1oYVP5Y), inviting users in Europe to submit their requests.

“...we will assess each individual request and attempt to balance the privacy rights of the individual with the public’s right to know and distribute information,” the form reads.

“When evaluating your request, we will look at whether the results include outdated information about you, as well as whether there’s a public interest in the information—for example, information about financial scams, professional malpractice, criminal convictions, or public conduct of government officials...”

A Google spokesman said on Tuesday that the company had received over 41,000 requests to be forgotten so far.

On the first day itself, Google had received 12,000 requests.

“Almost a third of the requests were in relation to accusations of fraud, 20% were in relation to violent/serious crimes, and around 12% regarded child pornography arrests. More than 1,500 of these requests are believed to have come from people in the UK. An ex-politician seeking re-election, a paedophile and a GP (general practitioner) were among the British applicants”, according to a 2 June report inThe Telegraph of London.

The “right to be forgotten” judgment has raised a controversy. While some argue that it upholds an individual’s privacy, others say it leaves a lot of room for interpretation.

In an interview to Mint on 26 May, Anupam Chander, director of the California International Law Center, reasoned that if a person could simply scrub all the bad information about him from being searchable on the Internet, she/he could do so by claiming that such information was “no longer relevant”.

“Do we want search engines to then judge whether information remains “relevant” or is somehow “inadequate” under the threat of liability for leaving information accessible? An Internet sanitized of accessible negative information will only tell half the truth,” he argued.

The ruling is not binding on India and applies only to EU countries.

According to legal experts, the country has no provision for a right to be forgotten, either in the Information Technology (IT) Act 2000 (amended in 2008) or the IT Rules, 2011. India, for that matter, does not even have a privacy act as yet.

“In India, we do not have a concept of the right to be Forgotten. It’s a very Western concept,” said Pavan Duggal, a cyberlaw expert and Supreme Court advocate.

Still, intermediaries like search engines and Internet services providers, under the country’s IT Act and IT Rules, have the obligation to exercise due diligence if an aggrieved party sends them a written notice, he said.

According to Sunil Abraham, executive director of the Centre for Internet and Society, an Internet rights lobby group, “right to be forgotten” cases should pass the “public interest” test.

“Privacy protection should not have a chilling effect on transparency. The question is: Does the content (which a user wants to be removed) serve a public interest that outweighs the harm that it is doing to the individual concerned? If no public interest is being served, there is no point in knowing what the content is all about. The complication with the EU ruling is that it wants intermediaries and over-the-top providers to play the role of judges,” said Abraham.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/news/livemint-leslie-d-monte-june-5-2014-right-to-be-forgotten-poses-legal-dilemma-in-india

Free Speech and Contempt of Court – I: Overview

Gautam Bhatia — 2014-06-08T15:29:33Z

Gautam Bhatia explores an under-theorised aspect of India's free speech jurisprudence: the contempt power that equips courts to "protect the dignity of the Bench". In this introductory post, he examines jurisprudence from the US and England to inform our analysis of Indian law.

On May 31, the Times of India reported some observations of a two-judge bench of the Supreme Court on its contempt powers. The Court noted that the power to punish for contempt was necessary to “secure public respect and confidence in the judicial process”, and also went on to add – rather absurdly – to lay down the requirements, in terms of timing, tone and tenor, of a truly “contrite” apology. This opinion, however, provides us with a good opportunity to examine one of the most under-theorised aspects of Indian free speech law: the contempt power.

Indeed, the contempt power finds express mention in the Constitution. Article 19(2) permits the government to impose reasonable restrictions upon the freedom of speech and expression “… in relation to contempt of court.” The legislation governing contempt powers is the 1971 Contempt of Courts Act. Contempt as a civil offence involves willful disobedience of a court order. Contempt as a criminal offence, on the other hand, involves either an act or expression (spoken, written or otherwise visible) that does one of three things: scandalises, or tends to scandalize, or lowers, or tends to lower, the authority of any court; prejudices or interferes (or tends to interfere) with judicial proceedings; or otherwise obstructs, or tends to obstruct, the administration of justice. As we can see, contempt can – broadly – take two forms: first, obstructing the proceedings of the Court by acts such as disobeying an order, holding up a hearing through absence or physical/verbal disturbance etc. This is straightforward enough. More problematically, however, contempt also covers instances of what we may call “pure speech”: words or other forms of expression about the Court that are punished for no other reason but their content. In particular, “scandalising the Court” seems to be particularly vague and formless in its scope and ambit.

“Scandalising the court” is a common law term. The locus classicus is the 1900 case of R v. Gray, which – in language that the Contempt of Courts Act has largely adopted – defined it as “any act done or writing published calculated to bring a Court or a judge of the Court into contempt, or to lower his authority.” The basic idea is that if abusive invective against the Court is permitted, then people will lose respect for the judiciary, and justice will be compromised.

It is obvious that this argument is flawed in many respects, and we shall analyse the Supreme Court’s problematic understanding of its contempt powers in the next post. First, however, it is instructive to examine the fate of contempt powers in the United States – which, like India, constitutionally guarantees the freedom of speech – and in England, whose model India has consciously followed.

America’s highly speech-protective Courts have taken a dim view of contempt powers. Three cases stand out. Bridges v. California involved a contempt of court accusation against a labour leader for calling a Court decision “outrageous”, and threatening a strike if it was upheld. Reversing his prior conviction, the Supreme Court noted that “public interest is much more likely to be kindled by a controversial event of the day than by a generalization, however penetrating, of the historian or scientist.” Given the strong public interest, the burden of justifying restrictions upon this speech was particularly high. The Court identified two possible justifications: respect for the judiciary, and the orderly administration of justice. On the first, it observed that “an enforced silence, however limited, solely in the name of preserving the dignity of the bench would probably engender resentment, suspicion, and contempt much more than it would enhance respect.” On the second, it held that since striking itself was entirely legal, it was no argument that the threat of a strike would illegally intimidate a judge and subvert the course of justice. Throughout the case, the Court stressed that unfettered speech on matters of public interest was of paramount value, and could only be curtailed if there was a “clear and present danger” that the substantially evil consequences would result out of allowing it.

Similarly, in Garrison v. Lousiana, an attorney accused certain judges of inefficiency and laziness. Reversing his conviction, the Supreme Court took note of “the paramount public interest in a free flow of information to the people concerning public officials, their servants…. few personal attributes are more germane to fitness for office than dishonesty, malfeasance, or improper motivation, even though these characteristics may also affect the official's private character.” Consequently, it held that only those statements could be punished that the author either knew were false, or were made with reckless disregard for the truth. And lastly, in Landmark Communications v. Virginia, the Court held that “the operations of the courts and the judicial conduct of judges are matters of utmost public concern”, and endorsed Justice Frankfurter’s prior statement, that “speech cannot be punished when the purpose is simply "to protect the court as a mystical entity or the judges as individuals or as anointed priests set apart from the community and spared the criticism to which in a democracy other public servants are exposed.”

What stands out here is the American Courts’ rejection of the ideas that preserving the authority of judges by suppressing certain forms of speech is an end in itself, and that the Courts must be insulated to some greater degree than other officials of government. Consequently, it must be shown that the impugned expression presents a clear and present danger to the administration of justice, before it can be punished.

Now to England. The last successful prosecution of the offence was in 1931. In 2012, the Law Commission published a paper on contempt powers, in which it expressly recommended abolishing the offence of “scandalising the Court”; its recommendations were accepted, and the offence was abolished in 2013. Admittedly, the offence remains on the statute books in many commonwealth nations, although two months ago – in April 2014 – the Privy Council gave it a highly circumscribed interpretation while adjudicating a case on appeal from Mauritius: there must, it held, be a “real risk of undermining public confidence in the administration of justice” (something akin to clear and present danger?), and the Prosecution must demonstrate that the accused either intended to do so, or acted in reckless disregard of whether or not he was doing so.

What is particularly interesting is the Law Commission’s reasoning in its recommendations. Tracing the history of the offence back to 18^th century England, it noted that the original justification was to maintain a “haze of glory” around the Courts, and it was crucial that the Courts not only be universally impartial, but also perceived to be so. Consequently, the Law Commission observed that “this language suggests that “to be impartial” and “to be universally thought so” are two independent requirements, implying that the purpose of the offence is not confined to preventing the public from getting the wrong idea about the judges, and that where there are shortcomings, it is equally important to prevent the public from getting the right idea.” Obviously, this was highly problematic.

The Law Commission also noted the adverse impact of the law on free speech: the well-known chilling effect, whereby people would self-censor even justified criticism. This was exacerbated by the vagueness of the offence, which left unclear the intent requirement, and the status of defences based on truth and public interest. The Law Commission was concerned, as well, about the inherently self-serving nature of the offence, which give judges the power to sit in judgment over speech and expression that was directly critical of them. Lastly, the Law Commission noted that the basic point of contempt powers was similar to that of seditious libel: to ensure the good reputation of the State (or, in the case of scandalising, the judges) by controlling what could be said about them. With the abolition of seditious libel, the raison d’être of scandalising the Court was also – now – weakened.

We see, therefore, that the United States has rejected sweeping contempt powers as unconstitutional. England, which created the offence that India incorporated into its law, stopped prosecuting people for it in 1931, and formally abolished it last year. And even when its hands have been bound by the law that it is bound the enforce, the Privy Council has interpreted the offence in as narrow a manner as possible, in order to remain solicitous of free speech concerns. Unfortunately, as we shall see in the next essay, all these developments have utterly passed our Courts by.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/free-speech-and-contempt-of-court-2013-i-overview

FOEX Live: June 1-7, 2014

geetha — 2014-06-07T13:33:45Z

A weekly selection of news on online freedom of expression and digital technology from across India (and some parts of the world).

Delhi NCR:

Following a legal notice from Dina Nath Batra, publisher Orient BlackSwan “set aside… for the present” Communalism and Sexual Violence: Ahmedabad Since 1969 by Dr. Megha Kumar, citing the need for a “comprehensive assessment”. Dr. Kumar’s book is part of the ‘Critical Thinking on South Asia’ series, and studies communal and sexual violence in the 1969, 1985 and 2002 riots of Ahmedabad. Orient BlackSwan insists this is a pre-release assessment, while Dr. Kumar contests that her book went to print in March 2014 after extensive editing and peer review. Dina Nath Batra’s civil suit led Penguin India to withdraw Wendy Doniger’s The Hindus: An Alternative History earlier this year.

The Delhi Police’s Facebook page aimed at reaching out to Delhi residents hailing from the North East proved to be popular.

Goa:

Shipbuilding engineer Devu Chodankar’s ordeal continued. Chodankar, in a statement to the cyber crime cell of the Goa police, clarified that his allegedly inflammatory statements were directed against the induction of the Sri Ram Sene’s Pramod Muthalik into the BJP. Chodankar’s laptop, hard-disk and mobile Internet dongle were seized.

Jammu & Kashmir:

Chief Minister Omar Abdullah announced the withdrawal of a four-year-old SMS ban in the state. The ban was instituted in 2010 following widespread protests, and while it was lifted for post-paid subscribers six months later, pre-paid connections were banned from SMSes until now.

Maharashtra:

In a move to contain public protests over ‘objectionable posts’ about Chhatrapati Shivaji, Dr. B.R. Ambedkar and the late Bal Thackeray (comments upon whose death led to the arrests of Shaheen Dhada and Renu Srinivasan under Section 66A), Maharashtra police will take action against even those who “like” such posts. ‘Likers’ may be charged under the Information Technology Act and the Criminal Procedure Code, say Nanded police.

A young Muslim man was murdered in Pune, apparently connected to the online publication of ‘derogatory’ pictures of Chhatrapati Shivaji and Bal Thackarey. Members of Hindu extremists groups celebrated his murder, it seems. Pune’s BJP MP, Anil Shirole, said, “some repercussions are natural”. Members of the Hindu Rashtra Sena were held for the murder, but it seems that the photographs were uploaded from foreign IP addresses. Across Maharashtra, 187 riotingcases have been registered against a total of 710 persons, allegedly in connection with the offensive Facebook posts.

On a lighter note, Bollywood hopes for a positive relationship with the new government on matters such as film censorship, tax breaks and piracy.

News & Opinion:

Shocking the world, Vodafone reported the existence of secret, direct-access wires that enable government surveillance on citizens. India is among 29 governments that sought access to its networks, says Vodafone.

I&B Minister Prakash Javadekar expressed his satisfaction with media industry self-regulation, and stated that while cross-media ownership is a matter for debate, it is the legality of transactions such as the Reliance-Network18 acquisition that is important.

Nikhil Pahwa of Medianama wrote of a ‘right to be forgotten’ request they received from a user in light of the recent European Court of Justice ruling. The right raises a legal dilemma in India, LiveMint reports. Medianama also comments on Maharashtra police’s decision to take action against Facebook ‘likes’, noting that at the very least, a like and a comment do not amount to the same thing.

The Hindu was scorching in its editorial on the Pune murder, warning that the new BJP government stands to lose public confidence if it does not clearly demonstrate its opposition to religious violence. The Times of India agrees.

Sanjay Hegde wrote of Section 66A of the Information Technology Act, 2000 (as amended in 2008) as a medium-focused criminalization of speech. dnaEdit also published its criticism of Section 66A.

Ajit Ranade of the Mumbai Mirror comments on India as a ‘republic of hurt sentiments’, criminalizing exercises of free speech from defamation, hate speech, sedition and Section 66A. But in this hurt and screaming republic, dissent is crucial and must stay alive.

A cyber security expert is of the opinion that the police find it difficult to block webpages with derogatory content, as servers are located outside India. But data localization will not help India, writes Jayshree Bajoria.

Dharma Adhikari tries to analyze the combined impact of converging media ownership, corporate patronage of politicians and elections, and recent practices of forced and self-censorship and criminalization of speech.

Elsewhere in the world:

In Pakistan, Facebook has been criticized for blocking pages of a Pakistani rock band and several political groups, primarily left-wing. Across the continent in Europe, Google is suffering from a popularity dip.

The National Council for Peace and Order, the military government in Thailand, has taken over not only the government,but also controls the media. The military cancelled its meetings with Google and Facebook. Thai protesters staged a quiet dissent. The Asian Human Rights Commission condemned the coup. For an excellent take on the coup and its dangers, please redirect here. For a round-up of editorials and op-eds on the coup, redirect here.

China has cracked down on Google, affecting Gmail, Translate and Calendar. It is speculated that the move is connected to the 25^th anniversary of the Tiananmen Square protests and government reprisal. At the same time, a Tibetan filmmaker who was jailed for six years for his film, Leaving Fear Behind, has been released by Chinese authorities. Leaving Fear Behind features a series of interviews with Tibetans of the Qinghai province in the run-up to the controversial Beijing Olympics in 2008.

Japan looks set to criminalize possession of child pornography. According to reports, the proposed law does not extend to comics or animations or digital simulations.

Egypt’s police is looking to build a social media monitoring system to track expressions of dissent, including “profanity, immorality, insults and calls for strikes and protests”.

Human rights activists asked Facebook to deny its services to the election campaign of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, ahead of elections on June 3.

Call for inputs:

The Law Commission of India seeks comments from stakeholders and citizens on media law. The consultation paper may be found here. The final date for submission is June 19, 2014.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For feedback and comments, Geetha Hariharan is available by email at geetha@cis-india.org or on Twitter, where her handle is @covertlight.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/foex-live-june-1-7-2014

WSIS+10 High-Level Event: Open Consultation Process

praskrishna — 2014-06-04T10:14:01Z

Jyoti Panday represented the Centre for Internet and Society (CIS) at the WSIS+10 High-Level Event:Open Consultation Process held in Geneva from May 28 to 31, 2014.

The Fifth Physical Meeting marked Phase Six of the Open Consultation Process for the WSIS+10 High-Level Event (HLE) to be held in Geneva from June 10 to 13, 2014.

The meeting saw the culmination of the multistakeholder review process on the WSIS+10 Statement on the Implementation of the WSIS Outcomes and the WSIS+10 Vision for WSIS Beyond 2015.

CIS made interventions on text related to increasing women's participation, freedom of expression, media rights, data privacy, network security and human rights.

CIS also endorsed text on action line 'Media' which reaffirmed committment to freedom of expression, data privacy and media rights offline and online including protection of sources, publishers and journalists.

Download the final agreed draft of the WSIS+10 Statement on the Implementation of WSIS Outcomes that will be deliberated upon and agreed at the HLE, for your reference.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/news/wsis-high-level-event-open-consultation-process

Two Arguments Against the Constitutionality of Section 66A

Gautam Bhatia — 2014-06-04T03:42:17Z

Gautam Bhatia explores the constitutionality of Section 66A in light of recent events.

In the immediate aftermath of the elections, free speech issues have come to the fore again. In Goa, a Facebook user was summoned for a post warning a second holocaust if Modi was elected to power. In Karnataka, a MBA student was likewise arrested for circulating an MMS that showed Modi’s face morphed onto a corpse, with the slogan “Abki baar antim sanskaar”. These arrests have reopened the debate about the constitutional validity of Section 66A of the IT Act, which is the legal provision governing online speech in India. Section 66A criminalises, among other things, the sending of information that is “grossly offensive or menacing in character” or causes “annoyance or inconvenience”. The two instances cited above raise – not for the first time – the concern that when it comes to implementation, Section 66A is unworkable to the point of being unconstitutional.

Like all legal provisions, Section 66A must comply with the fundamental rights chapter of the Indian Constitution. Article 19(1)(a) guarantees the freedom of speech and expression, and Article 19(2) permits reasonable restrictions in the interests of – inter alia – “public order, decency or morality”. Presumably, the only way in which Section 66A can be justified is by showing that it falls within the category of “public order” or of “morality”. The precedent of the Supreme Court, however, has interpreted Article 19(2) in far narrower terms than the ones that Section 66A uses. The Court has held that “public order” may only be invoked if there is a direct and immediate relation between the offending speech and a public order disturbance – such as, for instance, a speaker making an incendiary speech to an excited mob, advocating imminent violence (the Court has colloquially stated the requirement to be a “spark in a powder keg”). Similarly, while the Court has never precisely defined what “morality” – for the purposes of Article 19(2) – means, the term has been invoked where (arguably) pornographic materials are concerned – and never simply because speech has “offended” or “menaced” someone. Indeed, the rhetoric of the Court has consistently rejected the proposition that the government can prohibit individuals from offending one another.

This raises two constitutional problems with Section 66A: the problems of overbreadth and vagueness. Both doctrines have been developed to their fullest in American free speech law, but the underlying principles are universal.

A statute is overbroad when it potentially includes within its prohibitions both speech that it is entitled to prohibit, and speech that it is not. In Gooding v. Wilson, a Georgia statute criminalized the use of “opprobrious words or abusive language”. In defending the statute, the State of Georgia argued that its Courts had read it narrowly, limiting its application to “fighting words” – i.e., words that by their very nature tended to incite an imminent breach of the peace, something that was indisputably within the power of the State to prohibit. The Supreme Court rejected the argument and invalidated the statute. It found that the words “opprobrious” and “abusive” had greater reach than “fighting words”. Thus, since the statute left “wide open the standard of responsibility, so that it [was] easily susceptible to improper application”, the Court struck it down.

A statute is vague when persons of “ordinary intelligence… have no reasonable opportunity to know what is prohibited.” In Grayned v. Rockford, the American Supreme Court noted that “a vague law impermissibly delegates basic policy matters to policemen, judges, and juries for resolution on an ad hoc and subjective basis, with the attendant dangers of arbitrary and discriminatory application.” There are, therefore, a number of problems with vague laws: one of the fundamental purposes of law is to allow citizens to plan their affairs with a degree of certainty. Vagueness in legislation prevents that. And equally importantly, vague laws leave a wide scope of implementing power with non-elected bodies, such as the police – leading to the fear of arbitrary application.

While overbreadth and vagueness are problems that affect legislation across the board, they assume a particular urgency when it comes to free speech. This is because, as the American Supreme Court has recognized on a number of occasions, speech regulating statutes must be scrutinized with specific care because of the chilling effect: when speech is penalized, people will – out of fear and caution – exercise self-censorship, and the political discourse will be impoverished. If we accept – as the Indian Courts have – that a primary reason for guaranteeing free expression rights is their indispensability to democracy, then the danger of self-censorship is one that we should be particularly solicitous of. Hence, when speech-regulating statutes do proscribe expression, they must be clear and narrowly drawn, in order to avoid the chilling effect. As the American Supreme Court euphemistically framed it, “free speech needs breathing space to survive.” Overbroad and vague speech-restricting statutes are particularly pernicious in denying it that breathing space.

There seems to be little doubt that Section 66A is both overbroad and vague. However ill-judged a holocaust comparison or a morphed corpse-image may be, neither of them are like sparks in a powder keg, which will lead to an immediate breach in public order – or “immoral” in the way of explicit pornography. We can therefore see, clearly, that the implementation of the law leaves almost unbounded scope to officials such as the police, provides room for unconstitutional interpretations, and is so vaguely framed that it is almost impossible to know, in advance, what actions fall within the rule, and which ones are not covered by it. If there is such a thing as over-breadth and vagueness par excellence, then Section 66A is surely it!

At various times in its history, the Supreme Court has acknowledged the problems of overbreadth, vagueness and the chilling effect, but never directly incorporated them into Indian law. As we have seen, each of these elements is connected to the other: over-broad and vague speech-regulating statutes are problematic because of the chilling effect. Since Section 66A is presently being challenged before the Supreme Court, there is a great opportunity for the Court both to get rid of this unconstitutional law, as well as strengthen the foundations of our free speech jurisprudence.

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