One of the many political controversies swirling around is the role of social media such as Facebook and Twitter in poisoning public discourse and fanning the partisan flames. Censorship of political opinion is a growing concern, along with the influence of doctored videos, Russian bots and fake accounts. But the remedy of government regulation may be as dangerous as the disease.
I saw a precursor of this controversy when I worked for Illinois Bell in the 1970s. The hot technology in those days was the telephone answering machine, which delivered a recorded message to anyone who dialed the machine’s phone number.
Every technology has its dark side. At one point a white supremacist group in Chicago set up an answering machine to deliver a virulently racist message. Predictably, the politicians and media went into outrage mode and demanded that Illinois Bell take the message down.
I worked in media relations at the time and had some interesting conversations with reporters.
Yes, we agree that the message is repugnant, but Illinois Bell does not have the authority to censor the content of telephone messages. You really don’t want the telephone company involved in censorship, do you?
I pointed out that if a court were to order Illinois Bell to take down the offending message as a threat to public safety, our technicians could disconnect the white supremacists before the ink on the court order was dry. But that’s up to the judicial system and not the Bell System.
I also reminded reporters that no one was forcing people to pick up the phone and dial that specific number. If you don’t want to be offended by the white supremacists’ message, don’t call them. People figured this out and the controversy soon blew over.
What kept Illinois Bell out of a censorship nightmare was that we were a regulated public utility, accountable to both the Illinois Commerce Commission and the Federal Communications Commission. Any attempt on our part to pass judgment on the content transmitted over our wires, even if we wanted to, would run afoul of a large body of regulatory law.
Our status as a regulated monopoly also drove corporate policies and ethical standards designed to earn the trust of customers and keep the company out of trouble with regulators. Censorship was not a big issue but safeguarding customer privacy was practically a religion. Employees signed off on the company’s privacy policy on their first day of work. Eavesdropping on telephone conversations was strictly forbidden and revealing an unlisted phone number was grounds for dismissal.
This was more than a regulatory requirement: It was deeply engrained in a strong telephone company culture that had been nurtured for generations. Employees took the company’s commitment to privacy personally, not for fear of getting fired but because it was part of their value system. Telephone operators would never give out an unlisted phone number (even under torture, I suspect) because it was not just against the rules, it was unthinkable.
Could this be a model for the social media companies? That’s hard to tell. Regulating Facebook and Twitter as media companies could make them more responsible for content but runs the risk of government censorship. Making them public utilities could outlaw censorship but would be difficult to enforce. Government-imposed privacy safeguards could help, but that ship probably has sailed.
If the Bell System is an example, no regulatory policy will be effective unless it has the full support of management and is embedded in the corporate culture. For the social media companies, this probably would require new leadership and a massive overhaul of a politicized corporate monoculture.
Censorship, privacy and monopoly
One of the many political controversies swirling around is the role of social media such as Facebook and Twitter in poisoning public discourse and fanning the partisan flames. Censorship of political opinion is a growing concern, along with the influence of doctored videos, Russian bots and fake accounts. But the remedy of government regulation may be as dangerous as the disease.
I saw a precursor of this controversy when I worked for Illinois Bell in the 1970s. The hot technology in those days was the telephone answering machine, which delivered a recorded message to anyone who dialed the machine’s phone number.
Every technology has its dark side. At one point a white supremacist group in Chicago set up an answering machine to deliver a virulently racist message. Predictably, the politicians and media went into outrage mode and demanded that Illinois Bell take the message down.
I worked in media relations at the time and had some interesting conversations with reporters.
Yes, we agree that the message is repugnant, but Illinois Bell does not have the authority to censor the content of telephone messages. You really don’t want the telephone company involved in censorship, do you?
I pointed out that if a court were to order Illinois Bell to take down the offending message as a threat to public safety, our technicians could disconnect the white supremacists before the ink on the court order was dry. But that’s up to the judicial system and not the Bell System.
I also reminded reporters that no one was forcing people to pick up the phone and dial that specific number. If you don’t want to be offended by the white supremacists’ message, don’t call them. People figured this out and the controversy soon blew over.
What kept Illinois Bell out of a censorship nightmare was that we were a regulated public utility, accountable to both the Illinois Commerce Commission and the Federal Communications Commission. Any attempt on our part to pass judgment on the content transmitted over our wires, even if we wanted to, would run afoul of a large body of regulatory law.
Our status as a regulated monopoly also drove corporate policies and ethical standards designed to earn the trust of customers and keep the company out of trouble with regulators. Censorship was not a big issue but safeguarding customer privacy was practically a religion. Employees signed off on the company’s privacy policy on their first day of work. Eavesdropping on telephone conversations was strictly forbidden and revealing an unlisted phone number was grounds for dismissal.
This was more than a regulatory requirement: It was deeply engrained in a strong telephone company culture that had been nurtured for generations. Employees took the company’s commitment to privacy personally, not for fear of getting fired but because it was part of their value system. Telephone operators would never give out an unlisted phone number (even under torture, I suspect) because it was not just against the rules, it was unthinkable.
Could this be a model for the social media companies? That’s hard to tell. Regulating Facebook and Twitter as media companies could make them more responsible for content but runs the risk of government censorship. Making them public utilities could outlaw censorship but would be difficult to enforce. Government-imposed privacy safeguards could help, but that ship probably has sailed.
If the Bell System is an example, no regulatory policy will be effective unless it has the full support of management and is embedded in the corporate culture. For the social media companies, this probably would require new leadership and a massive overhaul of a politicized corporate monoculture.
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