Centre for Internet and Society

The state. And the rage of the cyber demon

praskrishna — 2012-09-03T11:03:53Z

The Internet might be a Pandora’s box. But should the government be wasting time regulating the cacophony?

Shougat Dasgupta's article was published in Tehelka, Vol 9, Issue 36, Dated September 8, 2012. Pranesh Prakash is quoted.

SOME YEARS ago a cartoon was doing the rounds that caught in a few sharp strokes the selfimportance and self-righteousness of the Internet warrior. A man sits hunched at his computer, the keyboard lit with his fervour. Not looking away from the screen, he has a terse, impatient exchange with his partner off-panel: ‘Are you coming to bed?’ ‘I can’t. This is important.’ ‘What?’ ‘Someone is wrong on the Internet.’ It is the anonymous exchange that gives cyber debates their peculiar animus; that anonymity coupled with the low stakes, as is famously said of academic politics, is what makes the sniping so bitter and vicious. The complaints about social media like Twitter or the comment sections on blogs have mostly centred on the incivility of the discourse, on ‘trolls’ too eager to throw rotting vegetables at journalists, politicians, celebrities unused to such irreverence. But action taken by the government in the last fortnight to block content from over 300 websites and a dozen Twitter accounts imputes a far more vitiating effect on society than the mere puncturing of already overinflated egos.

Kapil Sibal, Minister for Communications & Information Technology, has said in interviews that the government’s intent was to “protect the victims” from these “mischievous acts happening through these sites and blogs”. There is, by now, little doubt that the threats and fake pictures of slain Muslims spread through mobile phones and social media, “disseminating misinformation” in the minister’s phrase, helped exacerbate tensions and fears. There is equally little doubt that what action the government took was both late and clumsy: blocking blogs that debunked the rumours and morphed images that the government held responsible for causing panic; blocking web pages of international news organisations such as The Telegraph and Al-Jazeera; blocking Twitter accounts of journalists, the government’s political opponents, accounts parodying the prime minister, even people who tweeted mostly about information technology and cricket. Like a giant in clown shoes chasing a sprite, the government has looked lumbering and foolish, led a merry dance by light-footed ‘netizens’, while the rest of us pointed and laughed.

Can the government’s actions be at all justified? Appearing on NDTV’s ‘We the People’, R Chandrashekhar, Secretary, Department of Information Technology, argued that “once a law enforcement agency has made an assessment you act first and then make corrections as you go along”. In essence, extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures, which along with concern for ‘national security’ is trotted out by every democratic government accused of ignoring civil liberties. Congress spokesperson Manish Tewari, on the same programme, claimed that the “mandate of section 69a of the Information Technology Act and the rules with regard to safeguards and blocking is fairly clear and rule 9 allows the government, if it thinks that there’s an expedient situation in order to protect the sovereignty of the State or public order, to go ahead with this blocking on an interim basis”.

We will discuss the section being referred to and the 2011 guidelines for intermediaries later but for now let’s accept the government’s argument that it acted in the face of a clear and present danger, to borrow from Oliver Wendell Holmes, the famous 19th-century US Supreme Court Justice. Kharan Thapar, citing another of Holmes’s shopworn phrases, wrote that “[ j]ust as it’s not acceptable to shout fire in a crowded cinema hall for the fun of it, it cannot be permitted to deliberately frighten helpless innocent people who, for whatever reason, believe you and panic”. Thapar is making the point that free speech is not without its responsibilities. He does so, however, using a long discredited cliché and compounds this error with condescension, refusing to grant people (“helpless”, “innocent”, like babies) their full agency. Besides, the government only acted from 18 August to limit text messaging, already months after initial images of supposed Burmese atrocities against Muslims had been widely circulated to stir anger. It also chose to block webpages and Twitter handles, some for spurious, even mystifying reasons. The result has been embarrassment. Acting arbitrarily in the name of communal harmony to prevent damage after terrible damage has already been done, does little to convince the people you are supposedly protecting that you have the situation in hand.

The government has left itself open to being serially lectured about free speech by the US government, by journalists (particularly Kanchan Gupta, whose apparently blocked Twitter account has made him a patron saint of free speech), by hysterical twitterers (ok, ‘tweeple’) drawing an entirely ridiculous parallel to the Emergency, and most egregiously by Narendra Modi. Presumably, Modi, by blackening his display picture was not commenting on the black irony of a man who bans books mourning constraints on freedom of speech. Pranesh Prakash of the Bengaluru-based Centre for Internet and Society (CIS), a trenchant critic of the government’s recent blocks (social media not coal) and the “horrendously drafted” legislation that permits the leeway for such indiscriminate action, says that “people [were] losing a sense of reality”.

	He points to the criticism of the government’s blocking of parodies of the prime minister’s Twitter account. “An underreported part of this whole controversy,” he says,“is Twitter’s own terms of service and one parody account in particular violates those terms.” He confesses to “having to look quite closely” to tell the PMO account from PMO, which substitutes a zero for the letter ‘o’. Also, according to sources, a letter sent last year by the government to the likes of Google and Facebook asking them to screen for offensive content specifically excepted parody and satire. If accurate, this underscores that the Prime Minister’s Office did not have a problem with parody but a genuine, if peculiar, fear of misinformation stemming from the six accounts it asked Twitter to remove.

He points to the criticism of the government’s blocking of parodies of the prime minister’s Twitter account. “An underreported part of this whole controversy,” he says,“is Twitter’s own terms of service and one parody account in particular violates those terms.” He confesses to “having to look quite closely” to tell the PMO account from PMO, which substitutes a zero for the letter ‘o’. Also, according to sources, a letter sent last year by the government to the likes of Google and Facebook asking them to screen for offensive content specifically excepted parody and satire. If accurate, this underscores that the Prime Minister’s Office did not have a problem with parody but a genuine, if peculiar, fear of misinformation stemming from the six accounts it asked Twitter to remove.

NONE OF this is to say that the government, in its haste, acted with reason. Certainly, it has since last year been working assiduously to exert at least some control over online content. The rules from April last year updating sections of the Information Technology Act, 2000, requires “due diligence” from companies like Twitter, or Facebook, to not “host, display, upload, modify, publish, transmit, update or share any information that… is grossly harmful, harassing, blasphemous, defamatory, obscene, pornographic, paedophilic, libellous, invasive of another’s privacy, hateful, or racially, ethnically objectionable, disparaging, relating or encouraging money laundering or gambling, or otherwise unlawful in any manner whatever…” Disparaging? Encouraging gambling? Well, gambling, at least in casinos, is lawful in Goa and Sikkim. No wonder Kapil Sibal felt he was on firm legal ground when he complained in December about “derogatory pictures” of Sonia Gandhi and Manmohan Singh that the government had culled from Facebook accounts.

Prakash, of the CIS, describes the Information Technology Act, particularly sections 69a and 66 as “having issues and being badly worded”. The powers it gives the government are too intrusive and that the prison sentences for offenders “are greater than those for death by negligence”. What he finds most troubling is how little transparency exists around issues of censorship; how, for instance, there is no easily accessible central list of banned books. “How,” he asks, “are people even supposed to know if their website or Twitter account is blocked if the government won’t issue proper notices and lists?” Our democratically elected government appears fond of the aristocratic maxim to never contradict, never explain, never apologise, as if hauteur and bluster are adequate substitutes for communication and we are subjects rather than citizens.

Seen in isolation, the blocking of websites and rationing of text messages is just a comical bungle by an unwieldy, Luddite administration. In the context of the last 12 months though, the government’s recent actions are a logical extension of its drive to bring the Internet to heel. The unregulated nature of the Internet is a particular bugbear of this government. It had already made a proposal to the United Nations in October last year, at the 66th session of the General Assembly, for the institution of a Committee for Internet- Related Policies. This 50-nation body would be tasked not to control the Internet, “or allow Governments to have the last word in regulating the Internet, but to make sure that the Internet is governed not unilaterally, but in an open, democratic, inclusive and participatory manner, with the participation of all stakeholders”. For all the incompetence the government has displayed, both most recently and in previous attempts to censor Internet content, it asks an important question about the future of Internet regulation, about the need for multilateral debate and international consensus.

TEHELKA, as cyber chatter about the blocked sites grew increasingly frenzied, asked its online readers to define the forum provided by social media. Most agreed that Twitter, for instance, was a public space, a place to give vent to private thoughts publicly with, if wanted or needed, the comfort of anonymity. The metaphor used is often that of a public square or town hall. I’ve always thought of Twitter as a carnival — a space, as defined by the Russian literary theorist Mikhail Bakhtin, where the existing social order is overturned, where social pieties are profaned. Twitter, like carnival, appeared to me an exhilarating space. This is utterly naïve. The fact is that Twitter is not a public space, it is privately owned and its investors are in the business of revenue generation and profit. This means Twitter’s terms of service are subject to change, as is its cooperation with governments over the private information it controls and owns.

Rahul Bose, the actor, told me in a conversation about social media that he thinks individual freedom is increasingly an “illusion”, that the very idea has become “laughable”. We live our lives, particularly our online lives, under the unblinking gaze of government: “You don’t need a close circuit camera at Flora Fountain to know you’re being watched, that every piece of information is on a file somewhere.” (This is probably not quite true of our dozy government.) It is indisputable that private entities such as Facebook and Twitter hold enormous amounts of information about individuals. In that light, surely, the Indian government is correct about the need for multilateral oversight of a system currently beholden in significant ways to the United States. ICANN, the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers, for instance, still makes only a token gesture at global participation and any question of greater United Nations involvement is generally met with US suspicion.

Arguably, the Indian government doesn’t go far enough in its call for greater inclusivity in the governance of the Internet. The academic Jeremy Malcolm, an influential figure in discussions about Internet governance, has written that the World Summit on the Information Society has “established at the level of principle that governance of the Internet should be a transparent, democratic and multilateral process, with the participation of governments, private sector, civil society and international organisations, in their respective roles”. More immediate, perhaps, is the question of how a democratic country, committed to free speech, should regard social media.

This is not a discussion confined to India. During the August 2012 London riots, David Cameron threatened to ban people suspected of planning criminal activity from using Facebook, Twitter, and Blackberry Messenger. In words similar to those used by Sibal, Cameron spoke about reminding these companies of their responsibilities. In an interview with TEHELKA, Congress General Secretary Digvijaya Singh held close to the party line, insisting that “anything that incites violence is problematic, as is anything that is factually incorrect, and must be removed”. He envisages a future where online exchanges are governed by the same rules as public life, governed by similar cultural codes and basic civility. This is, it has to be said, an optimistic view of public life.

There are, as discussed earlier, as many different ways to see online exchanges as there are Internet users. The Internet’s shapelessness, its Moby Dick-like vast blankness, makes it impossible to apply the same standards to conversation on Twitter or Facebook, even if it is in print and in public, as you might apply to a magazine article. Pranesh Prakash points out that “while some people may see Twitter as akin to friends talking in the pub, others use the service as a bulletin board”. When I propose to Prakash the idea of an ombudsman to monitor online dialogue in the same way an independent press commission might monitor newspaper reports, he makes a cogent rebuttal: “There is no ombudsman for regular speech, or to outline what you can or cannot say from a podium. Besides, there are laws that deal with defamation, slander and unless there is a requirement for an extra-legal authority I cannot see the need for an ombudsman.”

Much of the debate over the last couple of weeks has devolved, as so much debate in all our media, mainstream or online, does, into grandstanding — in this instance about ‘freedom of speech’ versus the national security imperative. This is to miss the woods for the trees. For all its heavy-handedness, the Indian government is correct to be concerned about oversight of the Internet and correct that not enough stakeholders are currently involved in its governance. Cant about freedom of speech cannot change the fact that the government is also correct that in a precariously held together democracy comprising various, widely different cultures and religions, certain standards of respectful speech are necessary. Of course, we can and should argue those standards and there needs to be a national conversation about the strictures of Internet legislation in India. Still, let us not pretend that the mob mentality of political discourse on the Internet is not a cause for worry and is not, as are all mobs, subject to manipulation.

With inputs from Ajachi Chakrabarti.
Shougat Dasgupta is an Assistant Editor with Tehelka.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/news/www-tehelka-com-vol-9-issue-36-sep-8-2012-shougat-dasgupta-the-state-and-the-rage-of-the-cyber-demon

The State of Secure Messaging

divyank — 2020-07-17T08:12:15Z

A look at the protections provided by and threats posed to secure communication online.

This blogpost was edited by Gurshabad Grover and Amber Sinha.

The current benchmark for secure communication online is end-to-end encrypted messaging. It refers to a method of encryption wherein the contents of a message are only readable by the devices of the individuals, or endpoints, participating in the communication. All other Internet intermediaries such as internet service providers, internet exchange points, undersea cable operators, data centre operators, and even the messaging service providers themselves cannot read them. This is achieved through cryptographic mechanisms that allow independent devices to establish a shared secret key over an insecure communication channel, which they then use to encrypt and decrypt messages. Common examples of end-to-end encrypted messaging are applications like Signal and WhatsApp.

This post attempts to give at-risk individuals, concerned citizens, and civil society at large a more nuanced understanding of the protections provided and threats posed to the security and privacy of their communications online.

Threat Model

The first step to assessing security and privacy is to identify and understand actors and risks. End-to-end encrypted messaging applications consider the following threat model:

Device compromise: Can happen physically through loss or theft, or remotely. Access to an individual’s device could be gained through technical flaws or coercion (legal, or otherwise). It can be temporary or be made persistent by installing malware on the device.
Network monitoring and interference: Implies access to data in transit over a network. All Internet intermediaries have such access. They may either actively interfere with the communication or passively observe traffic.
Server compromise: Implies access to the web server hosting the application. This could be achieved through technical flaws, insider access such as an employee, or through coercion (legal, or otherwise).

End-to-end encrypted messaging aims to offer complete message confidentiality and integrity in the face of server and network compromise, and some protections against device compromise. These are detailed below.

Protections Provided

Secure messaging services guarantee certain properties. For mature services that have received adequate study from researchers, we can assume them to be sound, barring implementation flaws which are described later.

Confidentiality: The contents of a message are kept private and the ciphers used are practically unbreakable by adversaries.

Integrity: The contents of a message cannot be modified in transit.

Deniability: Aims to mimic unrecorded real-world conversations where an individual can deny having said something. Someone in possession of the chat transcript cannot cryptographically prove that an individual authored a particular message. While some applications feature such off-the-record messaging capabilities, the legal applicability of such mechanisms is debatable.

Forward and Future Secrecy: These properties aim to limit the effects of a temporary compromise of credentials on a device. Forward secrecy ensures messages collected over the network, which were sent before the compromise, cannot be decrypted. Future secrecy ensures messages sent post-compromise are protected. These mechanisms are easily circumvented in practice as past messages are usually stored on the device being compromised, and future messages can be obtained by gaining persistent access during compromise. These properties are meant to protect individuals aware of these limitations in exceptional situations such as a journalist crossing a border.

Shortcomings

While secure messaging services offer useful protections they also have some shortcomings. It is useful to understand these and their mitigations to minimise risk.

Metadata: Information about a communication such as who the participants are, when the messages are sent, where the participants are located, and what the size of a message is can offer important contextual information about a conversation. While some popular messaging services attempt to minimize metadata generation, metadata leakage, in general, is still considered an open problem because such information can be gleaned by network monitoring as well as from server compromise. Application policies around whether such data is stored and for how long it is retained can improve privacy. There are also experimental approaches that use techniques like onion routing to hide metadata.

Authentication: This is the process of asserting whether an individual sending or receiving a message is who they are thought to be. Current messaging services trust application servers and cell service providers for authentication, which means that they have the ability to replace and impersonate individuals in conversations. Messaging services offer advanced features to mitigate this risk, such as notifications when a participant’s identity changes, and manual verification of participants’ security keys through other communication channels (in-person, mail, etc.).

Availability: An individual’s access to a messaging service can be impeded. Intermediaries may delay or drop messages resulting in what is called a denial of service attack. While messaging services are quite resilient to such attacks, governments may censor or completely shut down Internet access.

Application-level gaps: Capabilities offered by services in addition to messaging, such as contact discovery, online status, and location sharing are often not covered by end-to-end encryption and may be stored by the application server. Application policies around how such information is gathered and retained affect privacy.

Implementation flaws and backdoors: Software or hardware flaws (accidental or intentional) on an individual’s device could be exploited to circumvent the protections provided by end-to-end encryption. For mature applications and platforms, accidental flaws are difficult and expensive to exploit, and as such are only accessible to Government or other powerful actors who typically use them to surveil individuals of interest (and not for mass surveillance). Intentional flaws or backdoors introduced by manufacturers may also be present. The only defence against these is security researchers who rely on manual inspection to examine software and network interactions to detect them.

Messaging Protocols and Standards

In the face of demands for exceptional access to encrypted communication from governments, and risks of mass surveillance from both governments and corporations, end-to-end encryption is important to enable secure and private communication online. The signal protocol, which is open and adopted by popular applications like WhatsApp and Signal, is considered a success story as it brought end-to-end encryption to over a billion users and has become a de-facto standard.

However, it is unilaterally developed and controlled by a single organisation. Messaging Layer Security (or MLS) is a working group within the Internet Engineering Task Force (IETF) that is attempting to standardise end-to-end encryption through participation of individuals from corporations, academia, and civil society. The draft protocol offers the standard security properties mentioned above, except for deniability which is still being considered. It incorporates novel research that allows it to scale efficiently for large groups up to thousands of participants, which is an improvement over the signal protocol. MLS aims to increase adoption further by creating open standards and implementations, similar to the Transport Layer Security (TLS) protocol used to encrypt much of the web today. There is also a need to look beyond end-to-end encryption to address its shortcomings, particularly around authentication and metadata leakage.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/the-state-of-secure-messaging

The Quixotic Fight to Clean up the Web

sunil — 2012-01-26T20:53:02Z

The ongoing attempt to pre-screen online content won’t change anything. It will only drive netizens into the arms of criminals, writes Sunil Abraham in this article published in Tehelka Magazine, Vol 9, Issue 04, Dated 28 Jan 2012.

GOOGLE AND Facebook’s ongoing case in the Delhi High Court over offensive online content is curious in three ways. First, the complaint does not mention the IT Act, 2000. Prior to the 2008 amendment, intermediaries (in this case, Google, Facebook, etc) had no immunity. But after the amendment, intermediaries have significant immunity and are not considered liable unless takedown notices are ignored.

Second, it is curious that the complaint does not mention specific individuals or groups directly responsible for authoring the allegedly offensive material. Only intermediaries have been explicitly named. If specific content items have been submitted in court then it is curious that specific accounts and users have not been charged with the same offences.

Three, Delhi-based journalist Vinay Rai claims that takedown notices and requests for user information were ignored by the intermediaries. As yet, unpublished research at the Centre for Internet and Society has reached the exact opposite conclusion. We sent fraudulent takedown notices to seven of the largest intermediaries in India as part of a policy sting operation. Six of them over-complied and demonstrated no interest in protecting freedom of expression. Our takedown notices were complied with even though they were largely nonsensical. It is therefore curious that Rai’s takedown notices were ignored.

Under Section 79 of the IT Act, the intermediary must not “initiate the transmission”, “select the receiver of the transmission” and “select or modify the information contained in the transmission”. In other words, they must not possess “actual knowledge” of the content. This would be absolutely true if intermediaries acted as “dumb pipes” or “mere conduits”. But today, they have reactive “human filters” ensuring conformance to community guidelines that often go beyond constitutional limits on freedom of expression.

For example, Facebook deletes breastfeeding photographs if a certain proportion of the breast is visible, despite numerous protests. Intermediaries also use proactive “machine filters” to purge their networks of pornography and copyright infringing content. In order to retain immunity under the IT Act, intermediaries would have to demonstrate that they have no “actual knowledge”. This would also imply that they cannot proactively filter or pre-screen content without becoming liable for illegal content.

More sophisticated “machine filters” will continue to be built for social media platforms as computing speeds increase and costs decrease dramatically. But there will be significant collateral damage — the vibrancy of online Indian communities will be diminished as legitimate content will be removed and this in turn will retard Internet adoption rates. Free media, democratic governance, research and development, culture and the arts will all be fundamentally undermined. So whether pre-censorship is technically feasible is an irrelevant question. The real question is what limits on freedom of expression are reasonable in the Internet age.

The legal tussle is yet another chance for reflecting on the shortcomings of the IT Act

Censorship is like prohibition, illegal content will persist, the mafia will profit and ordinary citizens will be implicated in criminal networks. Use of anonymising proxies, circumvention tools and encryption technologies will proliferate, frustrating network optimisation efforts and law enforcement activities.

This is yet another opportunity for reflecting on the shortcomings of the ITAct. A lot of the confusion and anxiety today emerges from vague language, unconstitutional limits on freedom of expression, multi-tiered blanket surveillance provisions, blunt security policy measures contained in the statute and its associated rules. The next Parliament session is the last opportunity for MPs to ask for the rules for intermediaries, cyber cafes and reasonable security practices to be revisited. The MP who musters the courage to speak will be dubbed a superhero.

As told to Shonali Ghosal. Sunil Abraham is Executive director, centre for internet and society and can be contacted at sunil@cis-india.org. The original article was published in Tehelka.

Illustration by Sudeep Chaudhuri

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/quixotic-fight-to-clean-the-web

The Privatisation of Censorship: The Online Responsibility to Protect Free Expression

praskrishna — 2012-12-09T01:48:13Z

Pranesh Prakash was a panelist at this workshop organised on November 5, 2012. It was organized by Index on Censorship.

Much is known about state censorship, but increasingly private corporations are implementing censorship either at the behest of governments, or as part of a ‘walled garden’ approach. This censorship takes many guises: whether the proactive take-down of entirely legal material, the blocking of websites by overly zealous ISPs, mobile filters that cut access to websites such as Index on Censorship and the use of surveillance technology on behalf of autocratic states. The combination of state-led censorship with the privatisation of censorship requires a debate on the responsibilities of corporations and the framework needed to protect free expression online.

This side session will focus on two key areas:
1. Take-down, blocking and filtering of content
2. The export of surveillance technology, privacy

The panel will explore the ways in which the above can affect free expression online, and how civil society, governments and corporations can and should approach these issues, addressing the following questions:

1. Whether, why and in what ways censorship and surveillance is either as or more pervasive, intrusive and chilling than offline, and the impact on free speech and press freedom?
2. The inappropriate, intrusive or excessive use of filters and firewalls including how these impact directly and indirectly on access to media and the nature of news provision
3. Criminalisation of free speech and free expression – chilling use of takedown requests (impacting on public online debates, on media freedom including investigative journalism), and constraints on comment and debate (twitter, trolls, comment threads etc);
4. Excessive and blanket surveillance and data-gathering
5. Regulations and laws including intermediary responsibility that curtail digital free speech

Chair:
Michael Harris, Head of Advocacy, Index on Censorship

Panelists:

Dr Hosein Badran, Regional Chief Technology Officer, Cisco Systems International, covering MENA
Pranesh Prakash, Policy Director at the Centre for Internet and Society
Abhilash Nair, Northumbria University, UK
Camino Manjon Sierra, International Relations Policy Officer, Directorate General for Communications Networks, Content and Technology, European Commission
Andrew Puddephatt, Global Partners and Associates

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/news/privatisation-of-censorship

The Present — and Future — Dangers of India's Draconian New Internet Regulations

anja — 2011-08-02T07:22:24Z

The uproar surrounding India's Internet Control Rules makes clear that in the Internet age, as before, the active chilling of freedom of expression by the state is unacceptable in a democracy. Yet if India's old censorship regimes are to be maintained in this new context, the state will have little choice but to do just that. Are we ready to rethink the ways in which we deal with free speech and censorship as a society? Asks Anja Kovacs in this article, published in Caravan, 1 June 2011.

WHAT ACTUALLY DEFINES A DEMOCRACY? It is a trickier question than it first seems, and yet it is worthwhile, at least every now and then, to remind ourselves of what constitutes the political system we hold so dear. Free and fair elections; an independent legislative, executive and judiciary; and freedom of the press—these are all vital ingredients. But what may be democracy’s defining element, or at least its sine qua non, is the right to freedom of opinion and expression: without this equal right to “seek, receive and impart information”, as the universal declaration of Human Rights frames it, a system of governance of the people, for the people and by the people simply remains meaningless. Without a free flow of information, democracy does not exist.

It is with good reason, then, that bloggers, tech enthusiasts and watchdogs from civil society have been up in arms over two new sets of rules, notified in April 2011, that will impact every Indian’s Internet use. Formulated by the Central Government under powers conferred to it by the IT (Amendment) Act 2008, one set governs what is known as the liability of intermediaries. This determines in which cases, and to what extent, companies ranging from Google and Facebook to local Internet service providers (ISPs) are legally responsible for the content that you upload.

The second set of rules pertains to cybercafes. In a manner reminiscent of the licence Raj, there are new registration standards for these establishments, which go beyond the usual requirements for commercial enterprises and include detailed procedures to identify all users. Cybercafes will be required to maintain and submit, on a monthly basis, logs that detail the use of all computers in the cafe and to keep backups of all users’ browser histories, to be maintained for at least one year.

There is much that is wrong with these rules, but what makes them such a particular threat to freedom of expression? Some effects are likely to be indirect: for example, the Internet has the potential to emerge as an important avenue for young people from disadvantaged backgrounds to express and discuss concerns so rarely taken into account by the mainstream media. But by putting into place stringent identification requirements for cybercafe users, who are likely to be less well-off, the access of underprivileged users in particular will be further constrained. Moreover, the combination of the need for identification with the requirement for cybercafes to keep a log of every user’s browser history means that anonymity online is now effectively made impossible in India. For whistleblowers, artists, writers or anyone desiring anonymity, there is no longer a place in Indian cyberspace.

But the most troubling impact on freedom of expression of the new mandates remains direct: in their attempt to delineate the liability of Internet providers and websites, the new rules for “intermediary due diligence” actually add important new curbs on freedom of expression to Indian law. India’s Constitution recognises a fairly extensive list of so-called “reasonable restrictions” and these are more or less replicated in the Rules: “the sovereignty and integrity of India, the security of the State, friendly relations with foreign states, public order, decency or morality, or in relation to contempt of court, defamation or incitement to an offence”. But the Rules, which were never vetted by Parliament, do not limit themselves to these Constitutional provisions. Rather surprisingly, they add a whole new slew of qualifications, many of which are so vague, moreover, that they leave the door wide open to abuse. Thus, for example, the Rules impose a blanket ban on impersonation and make it illegal to share any information that is “grossly harmful”, “harassing”, “blasphemous”, “disparaging” or “insulting any other nation”. None of these terms have been explained or defined.

Lacking the precision that would allow citizens to precisely regulate their behaviour in line with the law, overly broad regulations such as these are widely believed to have a chilling effect: in order not to violate the law, people begin to censor themselves—to keep quiet rather than protesting or engaging. But in this particular case, the effects are likely to be particularly pernicious because of a second provision made by the Rules: wherever an intermediary receives a complaint claiming that any information they store, host or publish contravenes the provisions of the Rules, the intermediary is required to take down this information within 36 hours. Censorship, in other words, will effectively be privatised.

The prospect is all the more depressing because the intermediaries have little incentive to resist participating in such censorship. Given the restrictions on free speech that are effectively enforced within Indian society by vigilante groups, especially in the last two decades, the possible impact of these rules is even more frightening. If Facebook has little reason to uphold your right to maintain a page that is critical of say, Gandhiji, what prevents vigilante groups from policing our lives online even more than they do offline? The only recourse available to the owner of the confiscated information will be going to court—meaning that defending one’s own freedom of speech online will require endless litigation.

These are worrying omens, in other words, for those who believe that freedom of expression is the cornerstone of democracy. But to what extent do these new provisions represent a radical break with India’s existing restrictions on free speech? Since its founding, the independent Indian nation-state has wielded censorship as a tool to both contain the conflicts that emanate from India’s tremendous diversity and to ensure its homogeneous social, moral and political development. If the list of reasonable restrictions in the Constitution is fairly long, this is because the country’s lawmakers were clear at the time of Independence that freedom of expression would need to be subordinated to the social reforms necessary to put the country on Nehru’s path to development. India’s far-reaching anti-hate speech laws, too, derive from the desire to combat ill will and disharmony. Since the Internet now makes it so much easier to publish opinions that are hurtful, or indeed “grossly harmful” or “disparaging”, the new Rules can in many ways be seen as an attempt to continue this strategy in the Internet age.

The problem, however, is that irrespective of the merits of such a strategy in the past, within the radically altered communicative context of the Internet, it is simply no longer feasible. As the Internet guru Clay Shirky has argued, earlier systems of media and communication worked on a “filter, then publish” principle. Because publishing a newspaper, for example, is expensive, editors and journalists take upon themselves the role of filtering out the “worthwhile” from the “not-so-worthwhile”. Without them making that vital differentiation between “news” and “information” on the one hand and “drivel” on the other, newspapers would simply not be viable. In the Internet age, however, this principle has been reversed. The arrival of social media especially has made it so easy and cheap for anyone to share their opinions that the mantra now is: first publish, then filter. The gatekeeper role of the traditional media stands much reduced.

For the Indian government’s strategy of using censorship as a tool to mitigate social conflict, this shift has two important consequences. The first one is quantitative: it means that there are now far more speech acts to police. That undoubtedly has made the state’s task much more difficult. But there is also a second, qualitative difference: it also means that whether the government approves of this or not, there will now be a far wider range of people who will make their voices heard, and thus, a far wider range of opinions that will be expressed in the public sphere. And it is precisely to stop such a diversity from emerging that much censorship in India has been justified over the years. As a 1980 report of the Working Group on National Film Policy argued: “if the overall objective of censorship is to safeguard generally accepted standards of morality and decency, in addition to the well recognised interests of the State, the standards of censorship applicable to freedom of expression cannot be very much ahead of the standards of behaviour commonly accepted in society. Censorship can become liberal only to the extent society itself becomes genuinely liberal”.

What such statements conveniently elide, of course, is the enormous diversity within Indian society itself. Whose standards of behaviour are they thinking of? Kashmiri, Manipuri, Chhattisgarhi? Gandhian, feminist, communist? Adivasi, Muslim, Dalit? Who represents this community of the nation? Censorship always benefits the status quo, and the Indian case has been no different. The rise of the Internet has merely revealed, with increasing frequency, cracks in the supposedly uniform moral, social and political development of India that the government envisioned. If the old censorship regime is to nevertheless be maintained in this new context, it will therefore increasingly require the active chilling of freedom of expression on the part of the state. What the uproar surrounding the Internet Control Rules makes clear is that in the Internet age, as before, this is an unacceptable route for a modern democracy. A new model to deal with diversity and dissent is urgently required.

What makes our democracy? With the undeniable challenges that the Internet throws to our established ways of operating, it is time to reopen this debate as a society, rather than leaving it to politicians and bureaucrats. The open forum of the Internet may often offend, or rattle our sensibilities and beliefs, but it also presents new possibilities for engagement and debate. Will we take this opportunity?

Read the original here

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/the-present-and-future-dangers-of-indias-draconian-new-internet-regulations

The noose tightens on freedom of speech on the Internet

praskrishna — 2015-03-27T01:06:52Z

A WORRYING trend has emerged in the last few years, where intermediaries around the world are being used as chokepoints to restrict freedom of expression online, and to hold users accountable for content.

The blog post by Gabey Goh was published by Digital News Asia on March 26, 2015. Jyoti Panday gave her inputs.

“All communication across the Internet is facilitated by intermediaries: Service providers, social networks, search engines, and more,” said Electronic Frontier Foundation (EFF) senior global policy analyst Jeremy Malcolm.

“These services are all routinely asked to take down content, and their policies for responding are often muddled, heavy-handed, or inconsistent.

“That results in censorship and the limiting of people’s rights,” he told Digital News Asia (DNA) on the sidelines of RightsCon, an Internet and human rights conference hosted in Manila from March 24-25.

This year, the government of France is moving to implement regulation that makes Internet operators ‘accomplices’ of hate-speech offences if they host extremist messages.

In February, the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) and the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) urged ICANN (the Internet Corporation for Assigned Names and Numbers) to ensure that domain name registries and registrars “investigate copyright abuse complaints and respond appropriately.”

Closer to home, the Malaysian Government passed a controversial amendment to the Evidence Act 1950 – Section 114A – back in 2012.

Under Section 114A, an Internet user is deemed the publisher of any online content unless proven otherwise. The new legislation also makes individuals and those who administer, operate or provide spaces for online community forums, blogging and hosting services, liable for content published through their services.

Due to the potential negative impact on freedom of expression, a roadmap called the Manila Principles on Internet Liability was launched during RightsCon.

The EFF, Centre for Internet Society India, Article 19, and other global partners unveiled the principles, whose framework outlines clear, fair requirements for content removal requests and details how to minimise the damage a takedown can do.

For example, if content is restricted because it’s unlawful in one country or region, then the scope of the restriction should be geographically limited as well.

The principles also urge adoption of laws shielding intermediaries from liability for third-party content, which encourages the creation of platforms that allow for online discussion and debate about controversial issues.

“Our goal is to protect everyone’s freedom of expression with a framework of safeguards and best practices for responding to requests for content removal,” said Malcolm.

Jyoti Panday from the Centre for Internet and Society India noted that people ask for expression to be removed from the Internet for various reasons, good and bad, claiming the authority of myriad local and national laws.

“It’s easy for important, lawful content to get caught in the crossfire. We hope these principles empower everyone – from governments and intermediaries, to the public – to fight back when online expression is censored,” she said.

The Manila Principles can be summarised in six key points:

Intermediaries should be shielded by law from liability for third-party content.

Content must not be required to be restricted without an order by a judicial authority.

Requests for restrictions of content must be clear, be unambiguous, and follow due process.

Laws and content restriction orders and practices must comply with the tests of necessity and proportionality.

Laws and content restriction policies and practices must respect due process.

Transparency and accountability must be built in to laws and content restriction policies and practices.

“Right now, different countries have differing levels of protection when it comes to intermediary liability, and we’re saying that there should be expansive protection across all content,” said Malcolm (pic).

“In addition, there is no logic in distinguishing between intellectual property (IP) and other forms of content as in the case in the United States for example, where under Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act, intermediaries are not liable for third party content but that doesn’t apply to IP,” he added.

The Manila Principles have two main targets: Governments and intermediaries themselves. The coalition, led by EFF, will be approaching governments to present the document and discuss the recommendations on how best to establish an intermediary liability regime.

This includes immunising intermediaries from liability and requiring a court order before any content can be taken down.

With intermediaries, the list includes companies such as Facebook, Twitter and Google, to discuss establishing transparency, responsibility and accountability in any actions taken.

“We recognise that a lot of the time, intermediaries are not waiting for a court order before taking down content, and we’re telling them to avoid removing content unless there is a sufficiently good reason and users have been notified and presented that reason,” said Malcolm.

The overall aim with the Manila Principles is to influence policy changes for the better.

Malcolm pointed out that by coincidence, some encouraging developments have taken place in India. On the same day the principles were released, the Indian Supreme Court struck down the notorious Section 66A of the country’s Information Technology Act.

Since 2009, the law had allowed both criminal charges against users and the removal of content by intermediaries based on vague allegations that the content was “grossly offensive or has menacing character,” or that false information was posted “for the purpose of causing annoyance, inconvenience, danger, obstruction, insult, injury, criminal intimidation, enmity, hatred or ill will.”

Calling it a “landmark decision”, Malcolm noted that the case shows why the establishment and promotion of the Manila Principles are important.

“Not only is the potential overreach of this provision obvious on its face, but it was, in practice, misused to quell legitimate discussion online, including in the case of the plaintiffs in that case – two young women, one of whom made an innocuous Facebook post mildly critical of government officials, and the other who ‘liked’ it,” he said.

The court however, upheld section 69A of the Act, which allows the Government to block online content; and Section 79(3), which makes intermediaries such as YouTube or Facebook liable for not complying with government orders for censorship of content.

Gabey Goh reports from RightsCon in Manila at the kind invitation of the South-East Asian Press Alliance or Seapa.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/news/digital-news-asia-gabey-goh-march-26-2015-noose-tightens-on-freedom-of-speech-on-internet

The Legal Validity of Internet Bans: Part II

Geetha Hariharan and Padmini Baruah — 2015-10-08T11:17:24Z

In recent months, there has been a spree of bans on access to Internet services in Indian states, for different reasons. The State governments have relied on Section 144, Code of Criminal Procedure 1973 to institute such bans. Despite a legal challenge, the Gujarat High Court found no infirmity in this exercise of power in a recent order. We argue that it is Section 69A of the Information Technology Act 2000, and the Website Blocking Rules, which set out the legal provision and procedure empowering the State to block access to the Internet (if at all it is necessary), and not Section 144, CrPC.

As we saw earlier, the Gujarat High Court held that Section 144, CrPC empowers the State apparatus to order blocking of access to data services. According to the Court, Section 69A, IT Act can be used to block certain websites, while under Section 144, CrPC, the District Magistrate can direct telecom companies like Vodafone and Airtel, who extend the facility of Internet access. In effect, the High Court agreed with the State government’s argument that the scope of Section 69A, IT Act covers only blocking of certain websites, while Section 144, CrPC grants a wider power.

This is what the Court said (para 9 of the order):

“If the comparison of both the sections in the field of operations is made, barring certain minor overlapping more particularly for public order [sic], one can say that the area of operation of Section 69A is not the same as that of Section 144 of the Code. Section 69A may in a given case also be exercised for blocking certain websites, whereas under Section 144 of the Code, directions may be issued to certain persons who may be the source for extending the facility of internet access. Under the circumstances, we do not find that the contention raised on behalf of the petitioner that the resort to only Section 69A was available and exercise of power under Section 144 of the Code was unavailable, can be accepted.” (emphases ours)

We submit that the High Court’s reasoning failed to examine the scope of Section 69A, IT Act thoroughly. Section 69A does, in fact, empower the government to order blocking of access to data services, and it is a special law. Importantly, it sets forth a procedure that State governments, union territories and the Central Governments must follow to order blocks on websites or data services.

I. Special Law Prevails Over General Law

The IT Act, 2000 is a special law dealing with matters relating to the Internet, including offences and security measures. The CrPC is a general law of criminal procedure.

When a special law and a general law cover the same subject, then the special law supersedes the general law. This is a settled legal principle. Several decisions of the Supreme Court attest to this fact. To take an example, in Maya Mathew v. State of Kerala, (2010) 3 SCR 16 (18 February 2010), when there was a contention between the Special Rules for Kerala State Homoeopathy Services and the general Rules governing state and subordinate services. The Supreme Court held that when a special law and a general law both govern a matter, the Court should try to interpret them harmoniously as far as possible. But if the intention of the legislature is that one law should prevail over another, and this intention is made clear expressly or impliedly, then the Court should give effect to this intention.

On the basis of this principle, let’s take a look at the IT Act, 2000. Section 81, IT Act expressly states that the provisions of the IT Act shall have overriding effect, notwithstanding anything inconsistent with any other law in force. Moreover, in the Statement of Objects and Reasons of the IT (Amendment) Bill, 2006, the legislature clearly notes that amendments inserting offences and security measures into the IT Act are necessary given the proliferation of the Internet and e-transactions, and the rising number of offences. These indicate expressly the legislature’s intention for the IT Act to prevail over general laws like the CrPC in matters relating to the Internet.

Now, we will examine whether the IT Act empowers the Central and State governments to carry out complete blocks on access to the Internet or data services, in the event of emergencies. If the IT Act does cover such a situation, then the CrPC should not be used to block data services. Instead, the IT Act and its Rules should be invoked.

II. Section 69A, IT Act Allows Blocks on Internet Access

Section 69A(1), IT Act says:

“Where the Central Government or any of its officer specially authorised by it in this behalf is satisfied that it is necessary or expedient so to do, in the interest of sovereignty and integrity of India, defence of India, security of the State, friendly relations with foreign States or public order or for preventing incitement to the commission of any cognizable offence relating to above, it may subject to the provisions of sub-section (2) for reasons to be recorded in writing, by order, direct any agency of the Government or intermediary to block for access by the public or cause to be blocked for access by the public any information generated, transmitted, received, stored or hosted in any computer resource.” (emphasis ours)

Essentially, Section 69A says that the government can block (or cause to be blocked) for access by the public, any information generated, transmitted, etc. in any computer resource, if the government is satisfied that such a measure is in the interests of public order.

Does this section allow the government to institute bans on Internet access in Gujarat? To determine this, we will examine each underlined term from above.

Access: Section 2(1)(a), IT Act defines access as “...gaining entry into, instructing or communicating with… resources of a computer, computer system or computer network”.

Computer resource: Section 2(1)(k), IT Act defines computer resource as “computer, computer system, computer network...”

Information: Section 2(1)(v), IT Act defines information as “includes… data, message, text, images, sound, voice...”

So ‘blocking for access’ under Section 69A includes preventing gaining entry or communicating with the resources of a computer, computer system or computer network, and it includes blocking communication of data, message, text, images, sound, etc. Now two questions arise:

(1) Do 2G and 3G services, broadband and Wifi fall within the definition of ‘computer network’?

Computer network: Section 2(1)(j), IT Act defines computer network as “inter-connection of one or more computers or computer systems or communication device…” by “...use of satellite, microwave, terrestrial line, wire, wireless or other communication media”.

(2) Do mobile phones that can connect to the Internet (we say smartphones for simplicity) qualify as fall within the definition of ‘computer resource’?

Communication device: Section 2(1)(ha), IT Act defines communication device as “cell phones, personal digital assistance or combination of both or any other device used to communicate, send or transmit any text, video, audio or image”.

So a cell phone is a communication device. A computer network is an inter-connection of communication devices by wire or wireless connections. A computer network is a computer resource also. Blocking of access under Section 69A, IT Act includes, therefore, gaining entry into or communicating with the resources of a computer network, which is an interconnection of communication devices, including smartphones. Add to this, the fact that any information (data, message, text, images, sound, voice) can be blocked, and the conclusion seems clear.

The power to block access to Internet services (including data services) can be found within Section 69A, IT Act itself, the special law enacted to cover matters relating to the Internet. Not only this, the IT Act envisages emergency situations when blocking powers may need to be invoked.

III. Section 69A Permits Blocking in Emergency Situations

Section 69A, IT Act doesn’t act in isolation. The Information Technology (Procedure and Safeguards for Blocking for Access of Information by Public) Rules, 2009 (“Blocking Rules”) operate together with Section 69A(1).

Rule 9 of the Blocking Rules deals with blocking of information in cases of emergency. It says that in cases of emergency, when “no delay is acceptable”, the Designated Officer (DO) shall examine the request for blocking. If it is within the scope of Section 69A(1) (i.e., within the grounds of public order, etc.), then the DO can submit the request to the Secretary, Department of Electronics and Information Technology (DeitY). If the Secretary is satisfied of the need to block during the emergency, then he may issue a reasoned order for blocking, in writing as an interim measure. The intermediaries do not need to be heard in such a situation.

After a blocking order is issued during an urgent situation, the DO must bring the blocking request to the Committee for Examination of Request constituted under Rule 7, Blocking Rules. There is also a review process, by a Review Committee that meets every two months to evaluate whether blocking directions are in compliance with Section 69A(1) [Rule 14].

We submit, therefore, that the Gujarat High Court erred in holding that Section 144, CrPC is the correct legal provision to enable Internet bans. Not only does Section 69A, IT Act cover blocking of access to Internet services, but it also envisages blocking in emergency situations. As a special law for matters surrounding the Internet, Section 69A should prevail over the general law provision of Section 144, CrPC.

Acknowledgements: We would like to thank Pranesh Prakash, Japreet Grewal, Sahana Manjesh and Sindhu Manjesh for their invaluable inputs in clarifying arguments and niggling details for these two posts.

Geetha Hariharan is a Programme Officer with Centre for Internet & Society. Padmini Baruah is in her final year of law at the National Law School of India University, Bangalore (NLSIU) and is an intern at CIS.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/the-legal-validity-of-internet-bans-part-ii

The Legal Validity of Internet Bans: Part I

Geetha Hariharan and Padmini Baruah — 2015-10-08T11:18:34Z

In recent months, there has been a spree of bans on access to Internet services in India states, for different reasons. In Gujarat, the State government banned access to mobile Internet (data services) citing breach of peace during the Hardik Patel agitation. In Godhra in Gujarat, mobile Internet was banned as a precautionary measure during Ganesh visarjan. In Kashmir, mobile Internet was banned for three days or more because the government feared that people would share pictures of slaughter of animals during Eid on social media, which would spark unrest across the state.

Can State or Central governments impose a ban on Internet access? If the State or its officials anticipate disorder or a disturbance of ‘public tranquility’, can Internet access through mobiles be banned? According to a recent order of the Gujarat High Court: Yes; Section 144 of the Code of Criminal Procedure, 1973 (“CrPC”) empowers the State government machinery to impose a temporary ban.

But the Gujarat High Court’s order neglects the scope of Section 69A, IT Act, and wrongly finds that the State government can exercise blocking powers under Section 144, CrPC. In this post and the next, we argue that it is Section 69A of the Information Technology Act, 2000 (“IT Act”) which is the legal provision empowering the State to block access to the Internet (including data services), and not Section 144, CrPC. Section 69A covers blocks to Internet access, and since it is a special law dealing with the Internet, it prevails over the general Code of Criminal Procedure.

Moreover, the blocking powers must stay within constitutional boundaries prescribed in, inter alia, Article 19 of the Constitution. Blocking powers are, therefore, subject to the widely-accepted tests of legality (foresight and non-arbitrariness), legitimacy of the grounds for restriction of fundamental rights and proportionality, calling for narrowly tailored restrictions causing minimum disruptions and/or damage.

In Section I of this post, we set out a brief record of the events that preceded the blocking of access to data services (mobile Internet) in several parts of Gujarat. Then in Section II, we summarise the order of the Gujarat High Court, dismissing the petition challenging the State government’s Internet-blocking notification under Section 144, CrPC. In the next post, we examine the scope of Section 69A, IT Act to determine whether it empowers the State and Central government agencies to carry out blocks on Internet access through mobile phones (i.e., data services such as 2G, 3G and 4G) under certain circumstances. We submit that Section 69A does, and that Section 144, CrPC cannot be invoked for this purpose.

I. The Patidar Agitation in Gujarat:

This question arose in the wake of agitation in Gujarat in the Patel community. The Patels or Patidars are politically and economically influential in Gujarat, with several members of the community holding top political, bureaucratic and industrial positions. In the last couple of months, the Patidars have been agitating, demanding to be granted status as Other Backward Classes (OBC). OBC status would make the community eligible for reservations and quotas in educational institutions and for government jobs.

Towards this demand, the Patidars organised multiple rallies across Gujarat in August 2015. The largest rally, called the Kranti Rally, was held in Ahmedabad, Gujarat’s capital city, on August 25, 2015. Hardik Patel, a leader of the agitation, reportedly went on hunger strike seeking that the Patidars’ demands be met by the government, and was arrested as he did not have permission to stay on the rally grounds after the rally. While media reports vary, it is certain that violence and agitation broke out after the rally. Many were injured, some lost their lives, property was destroyed, businesses suffered; the army was deployed and curfew imposed for a few days across the State.

In addition to other security measures, the State government also imposed a ban on mobile Internet services across different parts of Gujarat. Reportedly, Hardik Patel had called for a state-wide bandh over Whatsapp. The police cited “concerns of rumour-mongering and crowd mobilisation through Whatsapp” as a reason for the ban, which was instituted under Section 144, Code of Criminal Procedure, 1973 (“CrPC”). In most of Gujarat, the ban lasted six days, from August 25 to 31, 2015, while it continued in Ahmedabad and Surat for longer.

II. The Public Interest Litigation:

A public interest petition was filed before the Gujarat High Court, challenging the mobile Internet ban. Though the petition was dismissed at the preliminary stage by Acting Chief Justice Jayant Patel and Justice Anjaria by an oral order delivered on September 15, 2015, the legal issues surrounding the ban are important and the order calls for some reflection.

In the PIL, the petitioner prayed that the Gujarat High Court declare that the notification under Section 144, CrPC, which blocked access to mobile Internet, is “void ab initio, ultra vires and unconstitutional” (para 1 of the order). The ban, argued the petitioner, violated Articles 14, 19 and 21 of the Constitution by being arbitrary and excessive, violating citizens’ right to free speech and causing businesses to suffer extensive economic damage. In any event, the power to block websites was specifically granted by Section 69A, IT Act, and so the government’s use of Section 144, CrPC to institute the mobile Internet block was legally impermissible. Not only this, but the government’s ban was excessive in that mobile Internet services were completely blocked; had the government’s concerns been about social media websites like Whatsapp or Facebook, the government could have suspended only those websites using Section 69A, IT Act. And so, the petitioner prayed that the Gujarat High Court issue a writ “permanently restraining the State government from imposing a complete or partial ban on access to mobile Internet/broadband services” in Gujarat.

The State Government saw things differently, of course. At the outset, the government argued that there was “sufficient valid ground for exercise of power” under Section 144, CrPC, to institute a mobile Internet block (para 4 of the order). Had the blocking notification not been issued, “peace could not have been restored with the other efforts made by the State for the maintenance of law and order”. The government stressed that Section 144, CrPC notifications were generally issued as a “last resort”, and in any case, the Internet had not been shut down in Gujarat; broadband and WiFi services continued to be active throughout. Since the government was the competent authority to evaluate law-and-order situations and appropriate actions, the Court ought to dismiss the petition, the State prayed.

The Court agreed with the State government, and dismissed the petition without issuing notice (para 9 of the order). The Court examined two issues in its order (very briefly):

The scope and distinction between Section 144, CrPC and Section 69A, IT Act, and whether the invocation of Section 144, CrPC to block mobile Internet services constituted an arbitrary exercise of power;
The proportionality of the blocking notification (though the Court doesn’t use the term ‘proportionality’).

We will examine the Court’s reading of Section 69A, IT Act and Section 144, CrPC, to see whether their fields of operation are in fact different.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/the-legal-validity-of-bans-on-internet-part-i

The Last Word: Is there a need to review Information Technology Act?

praskrishna — 2012-11-21T12:10:15Z

Does the high-handed arrest of two young girls mean it's time to review and revise the IT Act?

Aryaman Sundaram, Pavan Duggal, Pranesh Prakash and Ravi Visvesvaraya Prasad took part in a discussion with Karan Thapar on section 66A of the IT Act. This was aired on CNN-IBN on November 20, 2012.

Pranesh Prakash said that it was just not a history of misuse of section 66A of the IT Act because that presumes that the law is otherwise fine and it has just been applied wrongly. This law is fundamentally flawed. It is unconstitutional. It is like a law in which there is a provision on rape, murder, theft, nuisance, everything put together in a single section with the same punishment being given for all of them. This obviously is not good law making but that is exactly what has been done in this case by taking bits from laws in the UK and from elsewhere and mashing them all up into one omnibust gargantuan monster which is unconstitutional.

Pranesh Prakash also added that the fact is that if you have bad laws they will be used to harass people. Having good law is one part of that. Apart from that there has been also other laws which have been misapplied in this case. In all these recent cases, section 66A of the IT Act wasn't the only provision used. This particular section has been used in conjunction with some other laws. So section 66A of the IT Act independently is not required. There are other laws in the Indian Penal Code and elsewhere which are usually enough to cover all the things that section 66A of the IT Act is right now covering. It is just an add on provision that really can't justify its existence unless it is really reduced in scope.

Watch the full video that was aired on CNN-IBN

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/news/ibnlive-videos-november-20-2012-the-last-word-is-there-a-need-to-review-information-technology-act

The Internet Has a New Standard for Censorship

jyoti — 2016-01-30T09:17:54Z

The introduction of the new 451 HTTP Error Status Code for blocked websites is a big step forward in cataloguing online censorship, especially in a country like India where access to information is routinely restricted.

The article was published in the Wire on January 29, 2016. The original can be read here.

Ray Bradbury’s dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451 opens with the declaration, “It was a pleasure to burn.” The six unassuming words offer a glimpse into the mindset of the novel’s protagonist, ‘the fireman’ Guy Montag, who burns books. Montag occupies a world of totalitarian state control over the media where learning is suppressed and censorship prevails. The title alludes to the ‘temperature at which book paper catches fire and burns,’ an apt reference to the act of violence committed against citizens through the systematic destruction of literature. It is tempting to think about the novel solely as a story of censorship. It certainly is. But it is also a story about the value of intellectual freedom and the importance of information.

Published in 1953, Bradbury’s story predates home computers, the Internet, Twitter and Facebook, and yet it anticipates the evolution of these technologies as tools for censorship. When the state seeks to censor speech, they use the most effective and easiest mechanisms available. In Bradbury’s dystopian world, burning books did the trick; in today’s world, governments achieve this by blocking access to information online. The majority of the world’s Internet users encounter censorship even if the contours of control vary depending on the country’s policies and infrastructure.

Online censorship in India

In India, information access blockades have become commonplace and are increasingly enforced across the country for maintaining political stability, for economic reasons, in defence of national security or preserving social values. Last week, the Maharashtra Anti-terror Squad blocked 94 websites that were allegedly radicalising the youth to join the militant group ISIS. Memorably, in 2015 the NDA government’s ham-fisted attempts at enforcing a ban on online pornography resulted in widespread public outrage. Instead of revoking the ban, the government issued yet another vaguely worded and in many senses astonishing order. As reported by Medianama, the revised order delegates the responsibility of determining whether banned websites should remain unavailable to private intermediaries.

The state’s shifting reasons for blocking access to information is reflective of its tendentious attitude towards speech and expression. Free speech in India is messily contested and normally, the role of the judiciary acts as a check on the executive’s proclivity for banning. For instance, in 2010 the Supreme Court upheld the Maharashtra High Court’s decision to revoke the ban on the book on Shivaji by American author James Laine, which, according to the state government, contained material promoting social enmity. However, in the context of communications technology the traditional role of courts is increasingly being passed on to private intermediaries.

The delegation of authority is evident in the government notifying intermediaries to proactively filter content for ‘child pornography’ in the revised order issued to deal with websites blocked as result of its crackdown on pornography. Such screening and filtering requires intermediaries to make a determination on the legality of content in order to avoid direct liability. As international best practices such as the Manila Principles on Intermediary Liability point out, such screening is a slow process and costly and intermediaries are incentivised to simply limit access to information.

Blocking procedures and secrecy

The constitutional validity of Section 69A of the Information Technology Act, 2008 which grants power to the executive to block access to information unchecked, and in secrecy was challenged in Shreya Singhal v. Union of India. Curiously, the Supreme Court upheld S69A reasoning that the provisions were narrowly-drawn with adequate safeguards and noted that any procedural inconsistencies may be challenged through writ petitions under Article 226 of the Constitution. Unfortunately as past instances of blocking under S69A reveal the provisions are littered with procedural deficiencies, amplified manifold by the authorities responsible for interpreting and implementing the orders.

Problematically, an opaque confidentiality criteria built into the blocking rules mandates secrecy in requests and recommendations for blocking and places written orders outside the purview of public scrutiny. As there are no comprehensive list of blocked websites or of the legal orders, the public has to rely on ISPs leaking orders, or media reports to understand the censorship regime in India. RTI applications requesting further information on the implementation of these safeguards have at best provided incomplete information.

Historically, the courts in India have held that Article 19(1)(a) of the Constitution of India is as much about the right to receive information as it is to disseminate, and when there is a chilling effect on speech, it also violates the right to receive information. Therefore, if a website is blocked citizens have a constitutional right to know the legal grounds on which access is being restricted. Just like the government announces and clarifies the grounds when banning a book, users have a right to know the grounds for restrictions on their speech online.

Unfortunately, under the present blocking regime in India there is no easy way for a service provider to comply with a blocking order while also notifying users that censorship has taken place. The ‘Blocking Rules’ require notice “person or intermediary” thus implying that notice may be sent to either the originator or the intermediary. Further, the confidentiality clause raises the presumption that nobody beyond the intermediaries ought to know about a block.

Naturally, intermediaries interested in self-preservation and avoiding conflict with the government become complicit in maintaining secrecy in blocking orders. As a result, it is often difficult to determine why content is inaccessible and users often mistake censorship for technical problem in accessing content. Consequently, pursuing legal recourse or trying to hold the government accountable for their censorious activity becomes a challenge. In failing to consider the constitutional merits of the confidentiality clause, the Supreme Court has shied away from addressing the over-broad reach of the executive.

Secrecy in removing or blocking access is a global problem that places limits on the transparency expected from ISPs. Across many jurisdictions intermediaries are legally prohibited from publicising filtering orders as well as information relating to content or service restrictions. For example in United Kingdom, ISPs are prohibited from revealing blocking orders related to terrorism and surveillance. In South Korea, the Korean Communications Standards Commission holds public meetings that are open to the public. However, the sheer volume of censorship (i.e. close to 10,000 URLs a month) makes it unwieldy for public oversight.

As the Manila Principles note, providing users with an explanation and reasons for placing restrictions on their speech and expression increases civic engagement. Transparency standards will empower citizens to demand that companies and governments they interact with are more accountable when it comes to content regulation. It is worth noting, for conduits as opposed to content hosts, it may not always be technically feasible for to provide a notice when content is unavailable due to filtering. A new standard helps improve transparency standards for network level intermediaries and for websites bound by confidentiality requirements. The recently introduced HTTP code for errors is a critical step forward in cataloguing censorship on the Internet.

A standardised code for censorship

On December 21, 2015, the Internet Engineering Standards Group (IESG) which is the organisation responsible for reviewing and updating the internet’s operating standards approved the publication of 451-’An HTTP Status Code to Report Legal Obstacles’. The code provides intermediaries a standardised way to notify users know when a website is unavailable following a legal order. Publishing the code allows intermediaries to be transparent about their compliance with court and executive orders across jurisdictions and is a huge step forward for capturing online censorship. HTTP code 451 was introduced by software engineer Tim Bray and the code’s name is an homage to Bradbury’s novel Fahrenheit 451.

Bray began developing the code after being inspired by a blog post by Terence Eden calling for a censorship error code. The code’s official status comes after two years of discussions within the technical community and is a result of campaigning from transparency and civil society advocates who have been pushing for clearer labelling of internet censorship. Initially, the code received pushback from within the technical community for reasons enumerated by Mark Nottingham, Chair of the IETF HTTP Working Group in his blog. However, soon sites began using the code on an experimental and unsanctioned basis and faced with increasing demand for and feedback, the code was accepted.

The HTTP code 451 works as a machine-readable flag and has immense potential as a tool for organisations and users who want to quantify and understand censorship on the internet. Cataloguing online censorship is a challenging, time-consuming and expensive task. The HTTP code 451 circumvents confidentiality obligations built into blocking or licensing regimes and reduces the cost of accessing blocking orders.

The code creates a distinction between websites blocked following a court or an executive order, and when information is inaccessible due to technical errors. If implemented widely, Bray’s new code will help prevent confusion around blocked sites. The code addresses the issue of the ISP’s misleading and inaccurate usage of Error 403 ‘Forbidden’ (to indicate that the server can be reached and understood the request, but refuses to take any further action) or 404 ‘Not Found’ (to indicate that the requested resource could not be found but may be available again in the future).

Adoption of the new standard is optional, though at present there are no laws in India that prevent intermediaries doing so. Implementing a standardised machine-readable flag for censorship will go a long way in bolstering the accountability of ISPs that have in the past targeted an entire domain instead of the specified URL. Adoption of the standard by ISPs will also improve the understanding of the burden imposed on intermediaries for censoring and filtering content as presently, there is no clarity on what constitutes compliance. Of course, censorious governments may prohibit the use of the code, for example by issuing an order that specifies not only that a page be blocked, but also precisely which HTTP return code should be used. Though such sanctions should be viewed as evidence of systematic rights violation and totalitarian regimes.

In India where access to software code repositories such as Github and Sourceforge are routinely restricted, the need for such code is obvious. The use of the code will improve confidence in blocking practices, allowing users to understand the grounds on which their right to information is being restricted. Improving transparency around censorship is the only way to build trust between the government and its citizens about the laws and policies applicable to internet content.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/the-wire-jyoti-panday-january-29-2016-internet-has-a-new-standard-for-censorship

The Humpty-Dumpty Censorship of Television in India

bhairav — 2015-11-29T08:37:53Z

The Modi government’s attack on Sathiyam TV is another manifestation of the Indian state’s paranoia of the medium of film and television, and consequently, the irrational controlling impulse of the law.

The article originally published in the Wire on September 8, 2015 was also mirrored on the website Free Speech/Privacy/Technology.

It is tempting to think of the Ministry of Information and Broadcasting’s (MIB) attack on Sathiyam TV solely as another authoritarian exhibition of Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s government’s intolerance of criticism and dissent. It certainly is. But it is also another manifestation of the Indian state’s paranoia of the medium of film and television, and consequently, the irrational controlling impulse of the law.

Sathiyam TV’s transgressions

Sathiyam’s transgressions began more than a year ago, on May 9, 2014, when it broadcast a preacher saying of an unnamed person: “Oh Lord! Remove this satanic person from the world!” The preacher also allegedly claimed this “dreadful person” was threatening Christianity. This, the MIB reticently claims, “appeared to be targeting a political leader”, referring presumably to Prime Minister Modi, to “potentially give rise to a communally sensitive situation and incite the public to violent tendencies.”

The MIB was also offended by a “senior journalist” who, on the same day, participated in a non-religious news discussion to allegedly claim Modi “engineered crowds at his rallies” and used “his oratorical skills to make people believe his false statements”. According to the MIB, this was defamatory and “appeared to malign and slander the Prime Minister which was repugnant to (his) esteemed office”.

For these two incidents, Sathiyam was served a show-cause notice on 16 December 2014 which it responded to the next day, denying the MIB’s claims. Sathiyam was heard in-person by a committee of bureaucrats on 6 February 2015. On 12 May 2015, the MIB handed Sathiyam an official an official “Warning” which appears to be unsupported by law. Sathiyam moved the Delhi High Court to challenge this.

As Sathiyam sought judicial protection, the MIB issued the channel a second warning August 26, 2016 citing three more objectionable news broadcasts of: a child being subjected to cruelty by a traditional healer in Assam; a gun murder inside a government hospital in Madhya Pradesh; and, a self-immolating man rushing the dais at a BJP rally in Telangana. All three news items were carried by other news channels and websites.

Governing communications

Most news providers use multiple media to transmit their content and suffer from complex and confusing regulation. Cable television is one such medium, so is the Internet; both media swiftly evolve to follow technological change. As the law struggles to keep up, governmental anxiety at the inability to perfectly control this vast field of speech and expression frequently expresses itself through acts of overreach and censorship.

In the newly-liberalised media landscape of the early 1990s, cable television sprang up in a legal vacuum. Doordarshan, the sole broadcaster, flourished in the Centre’s constitutionally-sanctioned monopoly of broadcasting which was only broken by the Supreme Court in 1995. The same year, Parliament enacted the Cable Television Networks (Regulation) Act, 1995 (“Cable TV Act”) to create a licence regime to control cable television channels. The Cable TV Act is supplemented by the Cable Television Network Rules, 1994 (“Cable Rules”).

The state’s disquiet with communications technology is a recurring motif in modern Indian history. When the first telegraph line was laid in India, the colonial state was quick to recognize its potential for transmitting subversive speech and responded with strict controls. The fourth iteration of the telegraph law represents the colonial government’s perfection of the architecture of control. This law is the Indian Telegraph Act, 1885, which continues to dominate communications governance in India today including, following a directive in 2004, broadcasting.

Vague and arbitrary law

The Cable TV Act requires cable news channels such as Sathiyam to obey a list of restrictions on content that is contained in the Cable Rules (“Programme Code“). Failure to conform to the Programme Code can result in seizure of equipment and imprisonment; but, more importantly, creates the momentum necessary to invoke the broad powers of censorship to ban a programme, channel, or even the cable operator. But the Programme Code is littered with vague phrases and undefined terms that can mean anything the government wants them to mean.

By its first warning of May 12, 2015, the MIB claimed Sathiyam violated four rules in the Programme Code. These include rule 6(1)(c) which bans visuals or words “which promote communal attitudes”; rule 6(1)(d) which bans “deliberate, false and suggestive innuendos and half-truths”; rule 6(1)(e) which bans anything “which promotes anti-national attitudes”; and, rule 6(1)(i) which bans anything that “criticises, maligns or slanders any…person or…groups, segments of social, public and moral life of the country” (sic).

The rest of the Programme Code is no less imprecise. It proscribes content that “offends against good taste” and “reflects a slandering, ironical and snobbish attitude” against communities. On the face of it, several provisions of the Programme Code travel beyond the permissible restrictions on free speech listed in Article 19(2) of the Constitution to question their validity. The fiasco of implementing the vague provisions of the erstwhile section 66A of the Information Technology Act, 2000 is a recent reminder of the dangers presented by poorly-drafted censorship law – which is why it was struck down by the Supreme Court for infringing the right to free speech. The Programme Code is an older creation, it has simply evaded scrutiny for two decades.

The arbitrariness of the Programme Code is amplified manifold by the authorities responsible for interpreting and implementing it. An Inter-Ministerial Committee (IMC) of bureaucrats, supposedly a recommendatory body, interprets the Programme Code before the MIB takes action against channels. This is an executive power of censorship that must survive legal and constitutional scrutiny, but has never been subjected to it. Curiously, the courts have shied away from a proper analysis of the Programme Code and the IMC.

Judicial challenges

In 2011, a single judge of the Delhi High Court in the Star India case (2011) was asked to examine the legitimacy of the IMC as well as four separate clauses of the Programme Code including rule 6(1)(i), which has been invoked against Sathiyam. But the judge neatly sidestepped the issues. This feat of judicial adroitness was made possible by the crass indecency of the content in question, which could be reasonably restricted. Since the show clearly attracted at least one ground of legitimate censorship, the judge saw no cause to examine the other provisions of the Programme Code or even the composition of the IMC.

This judicial restraint has proved detrimental. In May 2013, another single judge of the Delhi High Court, who was asked by Comedy Central to adjudge the validity of the IMC’s decision-making process, relied on Star India (2011) to uphold the MIB’s action against the channel. The channel’s appeal to the Supreme Court is currently pending. If the Supreme Court decides to examine the validity of the IMC, the Delhi High Court may put aside Sathiyam’s petition to wait for legal clarity.

As it happens, in the Shreya Singhal case (2015) that struck down section 66A of the IT Act, the Supreme Court has an excellent precedent to follow to demand clarity and precision from the Programme Code, perhaps even strike it down, as well as due process from the MIB. On the accusation of defaming the Prime Minister, probably the only clearly stated objection by the MIB, the Supreme Court’s past law is clear: public servants cannot, for non-personal acts, claim defamation.

Censorship by blunt force

Beyond the IMC’s advisories and warnings, the Cable TV Act contains two broad powers of censorship. The first empowerment in section 19 enables a government official to ban any programme or channel if it fails to comply with the Programme Code or, “if it is likely to promote, on grounds of religion, race, language, caste or community or any other ground whatsoever, disharmony or feelings of enmity, hatred or ill-will between different religious, racial, linguistic or regional groups or castes or communities or which is likely to disturb the public tranquility.”

The second empowerment is much wider. Section 20 of the Cable TV Act permits the Central Government to ban an entire cable television operator, as opposed to a single channel or programmes within channels, if it “thinks it necessary or expedient so to do in public interest”. No reasons need be given and no grounds need be considered. Such a blunt use of force creates an overwhelming power of censorship. It is not a coincidence that section 20 resembles some provisions of nineteenth-century telegraph laws, which were designed to enable the colonial state to control the flow of information to its native subjects.

A manual for television bans

Film and television have always attracted political attention and state censorship. In 1970, Justice Hidayatullah of the Supreme Court explained why: “It has been almost universally recognised that the treatment of motion pictures must be different from that of other forms of art and expression. This arises from the instant appeal of the motion picture… The motion picture is able to stir up emotions more deeply than any other product of art.”

Within this historical narrative of censorship, television regulation is relatively new. Past governments have also been quick to threaten censorship for attacking an incumbent Prime Minister. There seems to be a pan-governmental consensus that senior political leaders ought to be beyond reproach, irrespective of their words and deeds.

But on what grounds could the state justify these bans? Lord Atkins’ celebrated war-time dissent in Liversidge (1941) offers an unlikely answer:

“When I use a word,’ Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, ‘it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.’”

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/the-wire-bhairav-acharya-humpty-dumpty-censorship-of-tv-in-india

The generation of e-Emergency

sunil — 2015-06-29T16:40:54Z

The next generation of censorship technology is expected to be ‘real-time content manipulation’ through ISPs and Internet companies.

The article was published in Livemint on June 22, 2015.

Censorship during the Emergency in the 1970s was done by clamping down on the media by intimidating editors and journalists, and installing a human censor at every news agency with a red pencil. In the age of both multicast and broadcast media, thought and speech control is more expensive and complicated but still possible to do. What governments across the world have realized is that traditional web censorship methods such as filtering and blocking are not effective because of circumvention technologies and the Streisand effect (a phenomenon in which an attempt to hide or censor information proves to be counter-productive). New methods to manipulate the networked public sphere have evolved accordingly. India, despite claims to the contrary, still does not have the budget and technological wherewithal to successfully pull off some of the censorship and surveillance techniques described below, but thanks to Moore’s law and to the global lack of export controls on such technologies, this might change in the future.

First, mass technological-enabled surveillance resulting in self-censorship and self-policing. The coordinated monitoring of Occupy protests in the US by the Department of Homeland Security, the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) counter-terrorism units, police departments and the private sector showcased the bleeding edge of surveillance technologies. Stingrays or IMSI catchers are fake mobile towers that were used to monitor calls, Internet traffic and SMSes. Footage from helicopters, drones, high-res on-ground cameras and the existing CCTV network was matched with images available on social media using facial recognition technology. This intelligence was combined with data from the global-scale Internet surveillance that we know about thanks to the National Security Agency (NSA) whistle-blower Edward Snowden, and what is dubbed “open source intelligence” gleaned by monitoring public social media activity; and then used by police during visits to intimidate activists and scare them off the protests.

Second, mass technological gaming—again, according to documents released by Snowden, the British spy agency, GCHQ (Government Communications Headquarters), has developed tools to seed false information online, cast fake votes in web polls, inflate visitor counts on sites, automatically discover content on video-hosting platform and send takedown notices, permanently disable accounts on computers, find private photographs on Facebook, monitor Skype activity in real time and harvest Skype contacts, prevent access to certain websites by using peer-to-peer based distributed denial of service attacks, spoof any email address and amplify propaganda on social media. According to The Intercept, a secret unit of GCHQ called the Joint Threat Research Intelligence Group (JTRIG) combined technology with psychology and other social sciences to “not only understand, but shape and control how online activism and discourse unfolds”. The JTRIG used fake victim blog posts, false flag operations and honey traps to discredit and manipulate activists.

Third, mass human manipulation. The exact size of the Kremlin troll army is unknown. But in an interview with Radio Liberty, St. Petersburg blogger Marat Burkhard (who spent two months working for Internet Research Agency) said, “there are about 40 rooms with about 20 people sitting in each, and each person has their assignments.” The room he worked in had each employee produce 135 comments on social media in every 12-hour shift for a monthly remuneration of 45,000 rubles. According to Burkhard, in order to bring a “feeling of authenticity”, his department was divided into teams of three—one of them would be a villain troll who would represent the voice of dissent, the other two would be the picture troll and the link troll. The picture troll would use images to counter the villain troll’s point of view by appealing to emotion while the link troll would use arguments and references to appeal to reason. In a day, the “troika” would cover 35 forums.

The next generation of censorship technology is expected to be “real-time content manipulation” through ISPs and Internet companies. We have already seen word filters where blacklisted words or phrases are automatically expunged. Last week, Bengaluru-based activist Thejesh GN detected that Airtel was injecting javascript into every web page that you download using a 3G connection. Airtel claims that it is injecting code developed by the Israeli firm Flash Networks to monitor data usage but the very same method can be used to make subtle personalized changes to web content. In China, according to a paper by Tao Zhu et al titled The Velocity of Censorship: High-Fidelity Detection of Microblog Post Deletions, “Weibo also sometimes makes it appear to a user that their post was successfully posted, but other users are not able to see the post. The poster receives no warning message in this case.”

More than two decades ago, John Gilmore, of Electronic Frontier Foundation, famously said, “the Net interprets censorship as damage and routes around it.” That was when the topology of the Internet was highly decentralized and there were hundreds of ISPs that competed with each other to provide access. Given the information diet of the average netizen today, the Internet is, for all practical purposes, highly centralized and therefore governments find it easier and easier to control.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/internet-governance/blog/livemint-june-22-2015-sunil-abraham-the-generation-of-e-emergency

The Future of the Internet, Who Should Govern It and What is at Stake for You?

praskrishna — 2014-02-12T11:12:54Z

Internet and Mobile Association of India, Cellular Operators Association of India, Internet Democracy project, Media for Change, SFLC and the Centre for Internet Society is organizing a Multi-stakeholder Dialogue on the future of internet on January 29, 2014 at Multipurpose Hall, India International Center (IIC).

Snehashish Ghosh will participate in the event as a speaker.

Schedule

10.00 - 10.30: Registration
10.30 -13.30: Discussion and Open House
13.30: Lunch

The meeting seeks to address, among others, the following questions:

The issue of governing the internet through a multistakeholder mechanism (including government, business, civil society, academia and the technical community) versus a multilateral one (or an intergovernmental one, including only governments in a decision making role) is leading the global discourse.

What is multistakeholderism? How is it practiced? How is it different from multilateralism or intergovernmental decision making? Why has multistakeholderism assumed such an important role in internet governance?
Moderator – Subi Chutervedi

Several of the arguments are based in a framework document known as ‘Tunis Agenda 2005’.
What is the role of the Tunis Agenda in these debates? Since its formulation 9 years ago, is it still relevant? What does “stakeholders in their respective roles” mean in 2014 and beyond?
Moderator – Subi Chaturvedi

The positions taken by the Government of India at international fora are linked to its cyber security concerns.
Will India’s position of multilateral/intergovernmental governance of the Internet actually address these cyber security concerns?
Moderator – Anja Kovacs

Since the Snowden revelations, mass surveillance by governments has assumed center stage and is driving the recent discourse.
Will a multilateral/inter-governmental mechanism adequately address serious concerns of government surveillance and intrusion into the privacy of internet users and citizens?
Moderator – Anja Kovacs

Innovation, freedom of speech and expression and privacy rights are critical to a free and open internet. How are these impacted under a multistakeholder vis-à-vis a multilateral/inter-governmental mechanism?
Moderator- Chinmayi Arun

Internet governance has both a domestic and a global angle. In 2014, what should be the process of policy making involving stakeholders? Should there be consultation and what should be the process, quality and outcome of such consultation, especially as it relates to Internet Governance?

What process should the government adopt before taking a position internationally and while formulating domestic policy related to internet governance?
Moderator Chinmayi Arun

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/events/future-of-internet-january-29-2014

The freedom of expression debate: The State must mend fences with The Web

praskrishna — 2013-01-07T10:30:21Z

A fortnight after her arrest, Renu Srinivasan spends her free time singing Ashley Tisdale's number Suddenly. The lyrics - Suddenly people know my name, suddenly, everything has changed - resonate with the story of her life ever since she 'liked' and 'shared' her friend, Shaheen Dhada's, 21, controversial post regarding Shiv Sena chief Bal Thackeray's funeral on Facebook on November 18 and got arrested for it.

The article by Rahul Jayaram was published in India Today on December 18, 2012. Pranesh Prakash is quoted.

She's now flooded with "hundreds" of messages on FB; some congratulatory, others abusive and gets at least a dozen friend requests on the social networking site. When Renu went to the doctor last week, two constables accompanied her.

"All of a sudden, there's too much attention on me," says the Botany graduate from Dandekar College and a budding singer who is making new friends in the virtual world. There's, however, a word from caution from her father P.A. Srinivasan: "Don't comment on controversial issues you don't understand."

Bloggers are careful. Krish Ashok, a well-known blogger is disappointed with the government's lack of engagement with India's surging online community. In a blog post in August 2010, he made fun of the Ramayana and the fact that women couldn't enter the Sabarimala temple in Kerala. A group called Hindu Janajagruti Samiti threatened to take him to court. Ashok spoke to his lawyer.

"I was amazed. She said no individual could take action against me. But a group or organisation could," he says. Since then, he has become more aware of his Internet rights.

Gursimran Khamba, who has over 30,000 followers on Twitter, kept his cool during Thackeray's death and funeral. When all the media went gaga over him, televising his family photo albums, Khamba, re-tweeted reports and accounts of the Shiv Sena's role during the Mumbai riots of 1992-93. "In my head, I am not courageous to say anything about it myself," he says. He didn't want to incite. He'd rather help his followers get a more nuanced picture of a venerated leader.

Palghar and after, has made Ashok think. "I would reduce the number of provocative posts I might make," he says. Khamba says he will stick to comedy and doesn't believe in offence for the sake of offending although "taking offence is our national sport."

It is a shame, for the Internet is growing in India like nobody's business. It's the medium of the age.

According to comScore, a company that measures Internet trends, India is the fastest growing online market in the last 12 months among BRIC nations. There were 44.5 million unique visitors in July 2011 and in July 2012 there were 62.6 million unique visitors. That is, a growth of 44 per cent in one year. The total Internet usage of 124.7 million users in July 2012, that is, a 41 per cent growth from last year (July 2011).

With 124 million users as of July 2012, India has an Internet penetration of 10 per cent. 75 per cent of India's online users are below the age of 35 making it one of the youngest Net-connected populations. 39.3 per cent of India's Internet population consists of females. It has the highest growth seen among 15 to 24 male and female segments. India has 56.2 million Facebook users and 4.1 million Twitter users. Facebook had 35.3 million users in July 2011 and it jumped to 52.1 million in July 2012. That's a growth of 47% in just one year!

Growth of the Internet is one thing. Freedom of the Internet is another. Freedom House, an American organisation that tracks political and civil liberties worldwide, is blunt in its assessment. India is third in terms of Internet penetration, after the United States and China. Before November 2008, government control over the Internet was limited. All that changed after the November 2008 Mumbai attacks.

Since then it says, "The need, desire, and ability of the Indian government to monitor, censor, and control the communication sector have grown. Given the range of security threats facing the country, many Indians feel that the government should be allowed to monitor personal communications such as telephone calls, email messages, and financial transactions. It is in this context that Parliament passed amendments to the Information Technology Act (ITA) in 2008, expanding censorship and monitoring capabilities. This trend continued in 2011 with the adoption of regulations increasing surveillance in cyber cafes. Meanwhile, the government and non-state actors have intensified pressure on intermediaries, including social media applications, to remove upon request a wide range of content vaguely defined as "offensive" and potentially pre-screen user-generated content. Despite new comprehensive data protection regulations adopted in 2011, the legal framework and oversight surrounding surveillance and interception remains weak, and several instances of abuse have emerged in recent years."

Over this year we have had the cases of cartoonist Aseem Trivedi being put in jail and later released in September. In April, Ambikesh Mahaptra of Jadavpur University in Kolkata was arrested for a cartoon poking fun at West Bengal chief minister Mamta Banerjee and Railway Minister Mukul Roy. In October, Ravi, owner of plastic packaging material factory was arrested and let off on bail for joking about Finance Minister P. Chidambaram's son, Karti. The list gets longer. The Web and the State are at loggerheads. Why?

Lawyers and bloggers haul up Internet laws. And for such a community, we have laws like Section 66 (A) of the Information Technology Act of 2000. The law states that "any person who sends by means of a computer resource or a communication device, any information that is grossly offensive or has menacing character," can be booked for online crime.

Legal experts think Section 66 (A) and the whole of the IT Act of 2000, needs revisiting. According to cyber lawyer Pavan Duggal, Section 66 (A) "is a vanilla provision that can be used for anything online."

Section 66(A) seeks to empower the police and the complainant. "The words 'grossly offensive' and 'menacing character' of Section 66 (A) have no definition given. Normal, legitimate bona fide conversation between boyfriend and girlfriend at noble times online is fine. Once relationship sours, and they are gone."

"It's not clear what the purpose of Section 66A is. It's like having a single provision covering murder, assault, intimidation, and nuisance, and prescribing the same penalty for all of them," says Pranesh Prakash of the Center for Internet and Society, Bangalore. Terminology and the law's purpose are massive concerns.

"The extent of the ambiguity of Section 66A is worrying. Laws need to be very clear about what they want to achieve. If it is murder, then it must say murder. If its attempted murder, it must be clear it is attempted murder. Section 66 A is trying to do too many things at the same time. Its canvas is too vast," says Rajeev Chandrasekar.

As a country, we look to imitate the West, and often copy it badly. Some wonder if we need to mime the West. Pranesh Prakash thinks the Indian Constitution is stronger on free speech grounds than the (unwritten) UK Constitution, and the judiciary has wide powers of judicial review of statutes (i.e., the ability of a court to strike down a law passed by Parliament as 'unconstitutional').

Judicial review of statutes does not exist in the UK (with review under its EU obligations being the exception) as they believe that Parliament is supreme, unlike India. Putting those two aspects together, a law that is valid in the UK might well be unconstitutional in India for failing to fall within the eight octagonal walls of the reasonable restrictions allowed under Article 19(2).

Rajeev Chandrasekar thinks the Brits got it right. During the London riots of June 2011, "the UK government kept a tab on social media networking sites so as to check incitement, he says. It was a good example of clear legislation and effective execution, in an extreme scenario." To defuse online paranoia he wants the government to have a multi-stakeholder arrangement in fixing IT laws. This must involve users, IT companies, cyber cafe owners and the government. The State must mend fences with the Web.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/news/india-today-rahul-jayaram-december-18-2012-the-freedom-of-expression-debate

The flaw in cyber law

praskrishna — 2012-11-30T09:06:25Z

Legal experts and netizens want the controversial clause in the IT Act to be scrapped after two Mumbai girls were arrested for a post on Facebook.

This article by S Ronendra Singh was published in the Hindu BusinessLine on November 29, 2012. Sunil Abraham and Snehashish Ghosh are quoted.

Shaheen Dhada, 21, and her friend Rini Srinivas would never have imagined that they could land in jail because of a Facebook post. The two girls were arrested in Palghar following a complaint from local Shiv Sena workers against Shaheen's post on Facebook, where she questioned the need for a 'bandh' being observed in Mumbai on the death of the Sena supremo Bal Thackery.

While the two girls’ experience was traumatic, the action by the police has given fodder to activists and cyber experts to raise the clamour for scrapping section 66A of the IT Act, which they term as being draconian.

The Palghar incident is not an isolated event. Recently, Ravi Srinivasan, a 45-year-old supplier of plastic parts to telecom companies and a volunteer with India Against Corruption got into trouble with police after he tweeted about alleged corruption charges against Karti Chidambram, son of Finance Minister P Chidambaram.

There was a common factor in all these cases - arbitrary use of the Section 66 (A) of the Information Technology Act, 2000. The only mistake that most of these so-called offenders had committed was publishing their views online.

So, should we consider the law draconian now?

Assess Ambiguity

According to Snehashish Ghosh, Policy Associate at Centre for Internet and Society (Bangalore-based organisation looking at multidisciplinary research and advocacy in the field of Internet and society), the main reason for such inconsistent application of the law can be found in the history of the provision.

He said the language used in Section 66A of the IT Act, 2000 has been borrowed from Section 127 of the UK Communication Act, 2003 and the Malicious Communications Act, 1988.

“These two particular provisions are applicable in cases where the communication is directed to a particular person. Section 1 of the Malicious Prosecution Act begins with the, “any person who sends to another person” and hence it is clear that the provision does not include any post or electronic communication which is broadcasted to the world and deals with only one-to-one communication,” said Ghosh.

Section 127 only deals with “improper use of public electronic communications network”. It was meant to prevent misuse of public communication services. Therefore, social media Web sites do not fall under its ambit. However, the Section 66(A) in its current form fails to define any specific category, which has led to inconsistent and arbitrary use of the provision, said Ghosh.

One of the principles of interpretation of statute is that of absurdity. It states that when there are two interpretation of the law - where one renders it absurd and arbitrary, while the other puts it within the constitutional limits - then the latter interpretation is adopted.

“In the case of 66(A), interpreting it to include any form of communication transmitted using computer resource or communication device renders it to be absurd and arbitrary. Therefore, it should be interpreted and made applicable only to communication between two parties,” he opined.

According to Pavan Duggal, cyber law expert and advocate at Supreme Court of India, primarily section 66(A) is for protecting reputation and preventing misuse of its own.

“It is so vast – what is annoyance and inconvenience – gives a tremendous handle in the hands of the complainant and the police to target anyone. Further, if you send any information through email or SMS, which aims to mislead the addressee about such mail or message is a crime. All this suddenly opens a Pandora box of offences,” he said.

“So, when you look at case of Mamta Banerjee or latest case of those two girls getting arrested in Mumbai, it shows that Section 66(A) becomes an effective tool in the hands of ingenious complainants to gag free speech. And, that is why there is so much noise,” Duggal said.

To Use, Not Abuse

Sighting the recent case of the two girls from Mumbai, he said the law was abused and all they need to do is just exploit – whether clicking a ‘Like’ button on Facebook could involve Section 66(A) – and this case is setting a precedence that ‘liking’ a comment can be an offensive of Section 66(A).

“When you click a ‘Like’ button, you do not send any information that is defined under Section 66(A). You only send information of ‘liking’ that information or message,” he said.

However, it has become a code of misuse in its own sense. Parameters given there in the Act are extremely wide and can be interpreted.

“It has only one good thing – it makes the offence bailable, which means bail as a matter of right. But, once you get stuck under Section 66(A), along with that invites a long period of mental agony and trauma because the trial will take five-six years and you will have to undergo the trial,” he added.

So does it mean the Government should scrap or completely abolish this Section from the IT Act, 2000 or should the people of India file a petition against this Section?

Sunil Abraham, Executive Director, Centre for Internet and Society says there are laws specifically dealing with cyber stalking and communications and therefore, there we do not need an additional law.

“Either scrap or retain narrow parameters, which could be made defamatory. Otherwise, more such cases would be seen in future under this section. It has not done anything significant and has an impact on basic free online speech to public,” says Duggal.

A better approach would be to strike down the provision and include separate well defined anti-stalking and anti-spamming provision, said Ghosh of Centre for Internet and Society.

However, Mahesh Uppal, Director, ComFirst India (consultancy firm on regulatory issues) said it would be premature, in these circumstances, for any litigation against this Section.

“The issue is serious. However, this is as much to do with policing in general as it is to do with Section 66(A) which needs an amendment and clarification to remove any scope for abuse,” he said.

But, is the Government ready for any change?

Minister of Communications and IT, Kapil Sibal recently said, “Just because some people do not follow it properly, we cannot entirely scrap the law. Can we do away with penal code? We cannot.”

So, does that mean we, as citizens, have to consult legal notes before posting a message online or sending an SMS? And, even if we do, are all laws, sections and under-sections comprehendible by the common man? If not, how big a risk are we, and the person who ‘Likes’ what we say is taking?

The answers to these questions determine the future of freedom of speech.

For more details visit https://cis-india.org/news/the-hindu-businessline-november-29-2012-the-flaw-in-cyber-law