Joan Didion once wrote that “a good deal about California, in her preferred terms, doesn’t add up.” Though a land of immigrants, California has long had a marked nativist streak. A political system with no racial majority, California has a long history of racism. A site of unparalleled natural beauty, the state, through its vast farms, accounts for one-fifth of the nation’s pesticide use. In California, mavericks live off federally paid for waterworks and railroads, and pacifists live side-by-side with the most powerful union of prison guards in the country.
Californians have always been convinced that they know right from wrong, even though “right” and “wrong” can fluctuate wildly. We used to institutionalize troubled housewives. Now we let drug addicts roam the streets. What hasn’t changed is our trust.
Didion noted a “familiar California mistake, that of selling the future of the place. . . to the highest bidder”. Speculators come and go. The currency of the auction changes. But California is always up for grabs. Today’s robber barons are conservationists, plaintiffs’ attorneys, diversity, equity, and inclusion scammers, and a seemingly endless variety of other activists. They are heirs to California’s only enduring tradition: extractive, parasitic government. California’s current ruling class is a government class. They don’t actually do anything; they make a living by telling others what to do.
They have had their eyes on the internet lately.
california recently enacted AB 587, a law confusingly titled Content Moderation Requirements for Internet Terms of Service. Nominally a transparency law, it orders social media platforms to explain how they moderate content. The real goal is clearly to push platforms to moderate content differently. Because AB 587 isn’t about social media content in general; rather, they are discrete categories of content that interest progressives. What are you doing, the law asks the platforms, to address “hate speech”, “extremism” and “misinformation”? AB 587 requires platforms to submit detailed reports to the government on those particular topics. The message is not subtle: the government expects platforms to toughen these ways of speaking.
What, you might ask, exactly does a word like “extremism” mean? AB 587 does not say. Leave it up to the platforms to define the special categories themselves. Perhaps lawmakers were not up to the task of giving shape to these elusive notions. Or perhaps they figured out that their interest lay in avoiding it, in letting terms like “disinformation” keep changing with the sensibilities of the rapidly evolving elite. In any case, the lack of uniformity raises the question of what purpose the revelations actually serve. As Internet law expert Eric Goldman notes, the state appears to want this information “not to benefit any constituency” — after all, it won’t facilitate apple-to-apple comparisons — but as a “pure exercise of power.”
At least AB 587 stops at social media. Another new law, AB 2273, seeks to reshape the entire Internet. Judging by its name, the California Age-Appropriate Design Code, one might assume that the law seeks to help children browse children’s websites safely. And this is undoubtedly what the supporters of the law want. Will someone not think about the children? it is a powerful political sledgehammer, smashing rational objection like plywood. When her husband, California Gov. Gavin Newsom, signed AB 2273 into law, Jennifer Siebel Newsom highlighted the rhetoric, exclaiming, “I am terrified of the effect technology addiction and saturation is having on our children.” and their mental health.” But AB 2273 is much more than “our children”. The law regulates any website operated by a commercial entity (excluding small businesses) that has a reasonable prospect of being accessed by a child, like any website. And the law will work like a zoning code, a city building code, and a workplace safety manual rolled into one.
Under AB 2273, companies will be required to produce a “data protection impact assessment” for every “product, service or feature” on their websites. These ratings are reminiscent of the environmental impact statements that so effectively hamper construction projects in the physical world. What is the “purpose” of the product, service or feature in question? Could it attract children to the website? Will it collect or process information about them? It could “expose[e]” to “potentially harmful” content? These are just a few of the many questions that each assessment will need to answer.
Yes, all but the most kid-friendly websites I could expose a child to potentially harmful content. Even the front page of a newspaper could. “Maybe” will therefore be the appropriate answer to many of the questions posed by AB 2273, an answer that pressure groups, the state and the media will gladly treat as an admission of guilt.
In theory, the findings will not be public documents. In practice, however, the state attorney general will be able to obtain them upon request. Sacramento speaks godly about data privacy; it does not take data privacy per se seriously. Last year, the attorney general’s office inadvertently exposed the personal information of hundreds of thousands of gun owners in the state. We can expect underdog websites to experience similar treatment. And we can only shrug at how, in California, government-mandated data protection assessments will be subject to the government’s lax data protection standards. The California model of statecraft is a flywheel of hypocrisy.
When they’re not churning out ratings, lawyers will be busy determining whether websites offer children a “high level of privacy” by default. They will compose plans “to mitigate or eliminate” the risk of “material harm to children” that could arise from websites’ “data management practices.” They’ll guess if websites use “obscure templates” (a term AB 2273 only loosely defines) in a way that could decrease the “welfare” of children. They will try to draft terms of service in “language appropriate to the age of children who may be accessing” a particular website. (Good luck, CoComelon.) They will monitor whether companies “consider the best interests of children” and “prioritize children’s privacy, safety, and well-being over commercial interests” when building websites. AB 2273 will surely benefit at least some children: Lawyers will increase their children’s college funds.
Companies will have to pay the Attorney General thousands of dollars in penalties for every child “affected” by a violation of the code. That money, in turn, goes to fund a further application. Meanwhile, the law will establish a working group on child protection, whose unequivocal task will be to recommend the increase and strengthening of the regulatory framework.
Does the Internet harm children? The evidence, of course, is mixed (and compared with what?). But the sensible approach, if we’re concerned, is for academics to continue investigating the issue; for families and schools to teach children responsible Internet habits; and for nonprofits and the government to highlight the many online controls available to parents.
California’s approach, by contrast, is one of overreaction and centralized control. In the words of a prominent technology commentator, AB 2273 “insists that there is a problem, without the evidence to support it, and then demands an impossible solution that would not actually solve the problem if it were a problem.” The law will make website design a strenuous and uncertain exercise in risk aversion. It will spur companies to sanitize and self-censor, lest they have to report the “harm” of children. Perhaps worst of all, the law will force websites to verify the age and possibly identity of users. It would not only be a nuisance, but a privacy disaster. Imagine having to submit your identification to almost every website you visit. (Don’t worry, some enterprising companies say: They’ll use facial recognition instead!)
AB 587 and AB 2273 are just the beginning. California lawmakers are also regulating how social media users report cyberbullies, as well as when and how other states can access abortion-related data. They are considering a bill on children’s online “addiction” that would expose platforms to unlimited liability for the crime of offering eye-catching products. (A child who is “worried” or “troubled” not to use social media is an addict, as defined by the bill.) And the California Privacy Protection Agency is busy issuing guidelines for the state’s strict data privacy law . The common thread of these laws, bills and rules is that they are all national in scope, to varying degrees. They try to rule the internet for everyone.
Californians mined the Sierra Nevada and plowed the Central Valley. They built Paramount Pictures and the Douglas Aircraft Company. When there was no more wilderness to explore, they invented a new one: the Internet. But a state repeatedly enriched by initiatives, opportunities and risks is now resentful, cautious and hidden. The digital frontier, we are told, by Californians, of all people, is closed.
Even now, a line runs from Sutter’s Mill to Silicon Valley. But if California isn’t careful, its latest gold rush will be its last.
Photos: Illustrations and 2d/iStock photos
#Closure #digital #border
