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I have spent most of the week poring over news stories, blogs and commentary on last week's decision by Bay Area Rapid Transit officials to shut off cellphone service to quash planned protests on its trains and platforms.
I have spent most of the week poring over news stories, blogs and commentary on last week's decision by Bay Area Rapid Transit officials to shut off cellphone service to quash planned protests on its trains and platforms.
Opinions are many and range from BART spokesman Linton Johnson, who says constitutional rights end the moment people go through transit-authority turnstiles, to "X" of the hacker collective Anonymous, who protested BART's action and said our freedom to connect should be absolute and universal.
I tend to agree with "X," but adding my criticism to what has already been heaped on BART seems of little consequence at this point.
What does matter is the dangerous precedent set by public agencies that silence new media, and the need for clarity about our free speech rights regardless of the medium.
The San Francisco incident is not unique. Earlier this summer Cleveland's City Council passed an ordinance outlawing the use of Facebook and other social media to assemble unruly crowds. While a mayoral veto struck down the Cleveland ruling, the overreaction is part of a spreading official backlash against political organizing on new media.
Other governments have responded the same -- see China, Burma, Iran, Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain and beyond. In many instances they simply direct the state-run service provider and cellphone carriers to shut down their networks.
In the U.S., though, companies often flip the kill switch on their own. Verizon Wireless blocked text messages in 2007 that a reproductive rights group sought to send to its members. The carrier decided that the texts were "controversial and unsavory" and implemented a rule buried deep within the company's terms of service that gives Verizon the power to cut off mobile communications "without prior notice and for any reason or no reason."
That Verizon reversed its decision after its censorship was exposed by the New York Times should offer little comfort -- neither should the notion that fierce public criticism has sufficiently warned BART against switching off mobile communications in the future.
These incidents reveal a growing pattern of abuse and a great measure of confusion over free speech rights in the tangled realm of new media.
"We have free speech rights everywhere. Or at least everywhere in the U.S. when government applies its power," argues First Amendment scholar Marvin Ammori.
"If the spokesperson for BART reflects BART's understanding about freedom of speech at stations, then BART's leadership is wrong," Ammori says, adding that dismissing the free speech rights of citizens in such a reckless and all-encompassing fashion puts BART on shaky legal ground.
While these are new technologies, this isn't a new issue. People have sought to speak out using the best means available, whether that's strapping a note to a pigeon's leg, handing out printed pamphlets on a street corner or tweeting from the subway.
Governments have routinely sought to shut down technologies that disrupt their authority. But our basic freedoms should remain intact. Whether public and private entities have the right to silence social media and cellphone networks has become a question for the courts.
That's why the recent uptick in U.S. censorship is cause for real concern -- and reason enough for our judicial system to provide clarity on behalf of free speech everywhere.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
I have spent most of the week poring over news stories, blogs and commentary on last week's decision by Bay Area Rapid Transit officials to shut off cellphone service to quash planned protests on its trains and platforms.
Opinions are many and range from BART spokesman Linton Johnson, who says constitutional rights end the moment people go through transit-authority turnstiles, to "X" of the hacker collective Anonymous, who protested BART's action and said our freedom to connect should be absolute and universal.
I tend to agree with "X," but adding my criticism to what has already been heaped on BART seems of little consequence at this point.
What does matter is the dangerous precedent set by public agencies that silence new media, and the need for clarity about our free speech rights regardless of the medium.
The San Francisco incident is not unique. Earlier this summer Cleveland's City Council passed an ordinance outlawing the use of Facebook and other social media to assemble unruly crowds. While a mayoral veto struck down the Cleveland ruling, the overreaction is part of a spreading official backlash against political organizing on new media.
Other governments have responded the same -- see China, Burma, Iran, Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain and beyond. In many instances they simply direct the state-run service provider and cellphone carriers to shut down their networks.
In the U.S., though, companies often flip the kill switch on their own. Verizon Wireless blocked text messages in 2007 that a reproductive rights group sought to send to its members. The carrier decided that the texts were "controversial and unsavory" and implemented a rule buried deep within the company's terms of service that gives Verizon the power to cut off mobile communications "without prior notice and for any reason or no reason."
That Verizon reversed its decision after its censorship was exposed by the New York Times should offer little comfort -- neither should the notion that fierce public criticism has sufficiently warned BART against switching off mobile communications in the future.
These incidents reveal a growing pattern of abuse and a great measure of confusion over free speech rights in the tangled realm of new media.
"We have free speech rights everywhere. Or at least everywhere in the U.S. when government applies its power," argues First Amendment scholar Marvin Ammori.
"If the spokesperson for BART reflects BART's understanding about freedom of speech at stations, then BART's leadership is wrong," Ammori says, adding that dismissing the free speech rights of citizens in such a reckless and all-encompassing fashion puts BART on shaky legal ground.
While these are new technologies, this isn't a new issue. People have sought to speak out using the best means available, whether that's strapping a note to a pigeon's leg, handing out printed pamphlets on a street corner or tweeting from the subway.
Governments have routinely sought to shut down technologies that disrupt their authority. But our basic freedoms should remain intact. Whether public and private entities have the right to silence social media and cellphone networks has become a question for the courts.
That's why the recent uptick in U.S. censorship is cause for real concern -- and reason enough for our judicial system to provide clarity on behalf of free speech everywhere.
I have spent most of the week poring over news stories, blogs and commentary on last week's decision by Bay Area Rapid Transit officials to shut off cellphone service to quash planned protests on its trains and platforms.
Opinions are many and range from BART spokesman Linton Johnson, who says constitutional rights end the moment people go through transit-authority turnstiles, to "X" of the hacker collective Anonymous, who protested BART's action and said our freedom to connect should be absolute and universal.
I tend to agree with "X," but adding my criticism to what has already been heaped on BART seems of little consequence at this point.
What does matter is the dangerous precedent set by public agencies that silence new media, and the need for clarity about our free speech rights regardless of the medium.
The San Francisco incident is not unique. Earlier this summer Cleveland's City Council passed an ordinance outlawing the use of Facebook and other social media to assemble unruly crowds. While a mayoral veto struck down the Cleveland ruling, the overreaction is part of a spreading official backlash against political organizing on new media.
Other governments have responded the same -- see China, Burma, Iran, Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain and beyond. In many instances they simply direct the state-run service provider and cellphone carriers to shut down their networks.
In the U.S., though, companies often flip the kill switch on their own. Verizon Wireless blocked text messages in 2007 that a reproductive rights group sought to send to its members. The carrier decided that the texts were "controversial and unsavory" and implemented a rule buried deep within the company's terms of service that gives Verizon the power to cut off mobile communications "without prior notice and for any reason or no reason."
That Verizon reversed its decision after its censorship was exposed by the New York Times should offer little comfort -- neither should the notion that fierce public criticism has sufficiently warned BART against switching off mobile communications in the future.
These incidents reveal a growing pattern of abuse and a great measure of confusion over free speech rights in the tangled realm of new media.
"We have free speech rights everywhere. Or at least everywhere in the U.S. when government applies its power," argues First Amendment scholar Marvin Ammori.
"If the spokesperson for BART reflects BART's understanding about freedom of speech at stations, then BART's leadership is wrong," Ammori says, adding that dismissing the free speech rights of citizens in such a reckless and all-encompassing fashion puts BART on shaky legal ground.
While these are new technologies, this isn't a new issue. People have sought to speak out using the best means available, whether that's strapping a note to a pigeon's leg, handing out printed pamphlets on a street corner or tweeting from the subway.
Governments have routinely sought to shut down technologies that disrupt their authority. But our basic freedoms should remain intact. Whether public and private entities have the right to silence social media and cellphone networks has become a question for the courts.
That's why the recent uptick in U.S. censorship is cause for real concern -- and reason enough for our judicial system to provide clarity on behalf of free speech everywhere.