The ethics of large data leaks

This September, a firestorm erupted when WikiLeaks put the entire unredacted cache of leaked US embassy cables up on its website. Vulnerable individuals named in the cables panicked, the media and civil society expressed confusion and outrage, and WikiLeaks was widely blamed for irresponsibility and indifference to the harm its leaks could cause, suffering more defections from its ranks.  Just prior, Julian Assange squarely blamed David Leigh of The Guardian for publishing in a book the secret passcode to the encrypted file, which WikiLeaks had transmitted through a secure server. Leigh responded that he had been told the code was temporary and would expire.  However, shortly before Assange was arrested on 7 December 2010, the encrypted material was also posted on BitTorrent. In August, 2011, WikLleaks defector Daniel Domscheit-Berg tipped off a German magazine where the file could be found on the internet, and the news began to circulate. But responsibility for the revelations was even more tangled and diffuse.

Wikileaks long had serious leaks within its ranks. More news organizations than the initial four obtained and ran stories on the cables. Israel Shamir, a one-time WikiLeaks insider, appears to have given the cache to Belarus dicator Lukashenko in 2010, prompting allegations that Belarusian activists then suffered retaliation. Wikileaks also distributed the cables to many more media outlets, saying it had roughly ninety media partners by mid-2011.  Further leaks sprang from the ranks of the media partners. By April, WikiLeaks staff believed that most major intelligence agencies likely had obtained  the entire unredacted cache.  In late August, as the connection between the passcode and the location of the encrypted cache was about to go viral, it seemed the only audiences that might still not have access were the general public and the very individuals who might be at risk of serious human rights abuse due to their exposure. WikiLeaks sent out a few quiet warnings, and then posted the unredacted material itself.

The WikiLeaks publication of the unredacted cables did alert vulnerable sources, several of whom left their countries to protect themselves. It also ensured that no party intent on retaliating against US sources would have difficulty identifying prey.  We can recognise this without vilifying Wikileaks; like any publisher, they faced difficult decisions with limited knowledge, and under a great deal more pressure than most.

Even so, WikiLeaks’ acts in relation to the cables give the free speech community whiplash. On the one hand, there is no doubt that the vast majority of this information was of public interest — to many publics and in many ways, including the quintessential rationale for journalistic leaks, whistleblowing.  If Julian Assange could be prosecuted in the US under the Espionage Act for mere publication, so could any major media enterprise or human rights group, a tremendous blow to freedom of expression and the right to information in a jurisdiction that often leads in protecting these rights.  On the other, many human rights activists are disturbed at the willingness of WikiLeaks to further expose individuals to reprisal in the name of freedom of information. A bright line in values had been crossed.

WikiLeaks had taken a different approach with the US diplomatic cables than it had with the Afghanistan war logs, pacing its releases, redacting more carefully, and soliciting input on risks, even from the US government.  This made its unredacted dump the more surprising. The publication of the raw cables by others did not absolve Wikileaks of responsibility in its own publication.  By providing additional publicity and an implicit authentication, it may have added to tangible risks, but just as important, it undercut its own claim to concern for protection of individuals from abuse.  The function of alerting persons who might be named in the cables could have been performed much earlier, and in ways that publicly acknowledged the wide dissemination of the cables by early 2011.  And by the time Wikileaks published, the more debatable function of providing unredacted access to the global public was underway at other websites.

What lessons should publishers draw? The first is that it is hard to keep confidential information secret, and this is as much a human as a technical problem. Information not only “wants to be free,” as Stewart Brand noted it also has value, and people want to trade it.  Digital information is especially easy to amass and pass in the internet age, and large data leaks are likely to proliferate.

Next, large data sets are hard to handle responsibly.  They require large resources to review, analyze and redact, as my organisation, Human Rights Watch, has discovered when it secured troves in Kurdistan, Chad and Libya. WikiLeaks appropriately went to major newspapers that could muster the resources to handle it well.  Yet it is governments and intelligence services that have the most resources to analyze and mine large data sets (and correlate information to other intelligence), making it all the more important for those who publish whistleblowing to try to protect individuals at risk.

Not everything is worth the effort of publishing in a responsible way. Newspapers know this, because they have to pay for newsprint.  But there is a moral economy as well, where the more attenuated the public’s interest, the more other values and goals might weigh against exposure.  Most researching professions, to ensure their moral legitimacy, aim not only to increase knowledge but to protect human security, privacy, and dignity.  Sometimes preserving rather than uploading can be a reasonable alternative.

Finally, we should strive to create a culture of ethical transparency, because without an ethical underpinning, it will be difficult to resist growing efforts to tighten up laws that punish leaks.  Part of that is cultivating some modesty about our ability to fortell the full consequences of either exposure or concealment, and a willingness to be responsible for decisions either way.

Dinah Pokempner is General Counsel of Human Rights Watch

Free Chen Guangcheng movement grows despite violence

Chinese netizens, writers and media figures have rallied to the cause of blind activist lawyer Chen Guangcheng in recent weeks, facing risks of detention and harassment and beatings. Chinese blogger Zeng Jinyan describes the situation

Efforts to save blind self-taught lawyer Chen Guangcheng and his family from an illegal house arrest became a symbol of the struggle to save our society in a sinking China.

Every day in recent weeks, tens of thousands of messages have circulated on social media about Chen’s situation. Dozens of human rights activists, writers, journalists, students, religious figures and internet users, most of whom are ordinary Chinese, have tried to visit Chen in the remote village where he has been exiled. The visitors attempted to reach Dongshigu in Shandong province have been beaten up, robbed, insulted, pushed away, or abandoned in remote areas by officials and thugs employed by local authorities, without any legal grounds.

Chen and his family have been subjected to harassment, arbitrary detention, beating, and house arrest since 2005, when his commitment to defending Chinese citizens’ human rights pushed him expose cases of women who suffered violent forced abortions. After serving a prison sentence of four years and three months — widely seen by his supporters as the revenge of his local government for his work defending human rights — Immediately following his 9 September 2010 release, Chen was placed under house arrest in his hometown village of Dongshigu in the Shadong province. Since then the whole family — Chen, his wife, his mother who is in her 70s, and his six year-old daughter — have been under strict house arrest. They enjoy no freedom of movement, no medical treatment, their mobile phone has been blocked by signal jammers, the daughter has not been allowed to go to school, and the family has been threatened and beaten repeatedly.

Activists, human rights groups and foreign embassies have continued to speak out in support of Chen but his situation has not improved. Twitter user He Peirong (@pearlher) a female teacher in Nanjing, first attempted to visit Chen this January. Since then, she has made five failed attempts  to reach Dongshigu. Each time she was beaten, robbed, insulted, and abandoned by guards around Chen’s village. She blogged about her experiences online, questioned local police authority and the National Disabled Federation, petitioned for Chen’s daughter’s right to schooling, for medical treatment for Chen and his wife, and for freeing of Chen and his family.

Following He Peirong’s example,  other journalists, and supporters tried to visit Chen. They received similar treatment, Rachel Beitarie, a foreign correspondent based in Beijing, described her own attempt for Israeli daily newspaper Calcalist, which she translated:

It all happened within minutes. As soon as I stepped out of the taxi to a rural road in China’s Shandong province, I was surrounded but five men who grabbed me by the arms, snatched my bag and searched my pockets and under my belt for my passport. Foreign correspondents in China learn from day one what to say and do in the event of police harassment:  You are supposed to present your documents, demand to be allowed to contact your embassy and point to the Chinese law that grants you free freedom of reporting. None of this was applicable here. The men who started dragging me into another car did not bother to introduce themselves, did not ask for any documents and did not answer questions. In fact, they did not speak at all. They were not trained to negotiate nor to maintain public order but were entrusted with one mission: To make sure the man they guard will be isolated from the world, to stop and intimidate anyone trying to get to that man.

I was pushed with force into a car and driven through a peaceful countryside back to the suburbs of Linyi city, where I was pushed out of the car. All my possessions were later given back at a local police station that refused to  accept my assault complaint. I was lucky to get out unharmed: My foreign passport and status as a journalist protected me when I came to cover the attempt of four human rights activists to visit the well guarded man. The four of them, however, were captured by thugs, held and beaten for hours before they were brought to a police station where they underwent investigation. They were all released the next day without any charges.

Meanwhile, The Transition Institute, an independent think tank based in Beijing, has been asking prominent scholars and intellectuals to comment on Chen Guangcheng’s case. They posted video records of the comments online to boost the campaign. Microblog users, mostly on Sina  Weibo and Twitter, showed support in their own unique and creative ways. Several have donned Chen’s trademark black sunglasses.

The focus on Chen and his family’s treatment has achieved some small results. For the first time, Chen’s daughter has been allowed to school with guards escorting and monitoring, while those who tried to see Chen last week received less violent treatment.

The next big test will come on 12 November, when activists and friends attempt to visit Dongshigu to celebrate Chen’s 40th birthday.

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