Facebook risks silencing dissent in the name of truth

WIRED:By deleting a Chinese journalist's account, the company also removed his links to the world

THE CHINESE journalist Michael Anti had his Facebook account deleted in January. The reason Facebook gave was that Michael Anti isn't his real, government-recorded, name – which is true. Instead, Anti is the name that he has written under for almost a decade, on his own personal blogs, and in his work for the New York Timesand other publications.

It’s what his public know him as; it’s what you would search for if you were looking for his writing, or aiming to get in touch.

Facebook’s “real name policy” will not accept such pseudonyms as the primary name on his account, and Anti was unwilling to change his account to reflect his birth name. That led to the removal, not only of his account, but his links with a thousand or so contacts he had made on the service since 2007.

Facebook’s real name policy is long-established, and strongly defended by the company. But its ramifications are subtle, especially in edge cases like Anti, and in countries where Facebook has not yet developed the staff or experience to judge situations like this.

Anti’s anger with Facebook grew when he heard that the company now hosts a page for founder Mark Zuckerberg’s new dog, Beast. As Anti told AP: “My journalistic work and academic work is more real than a dog.”

As Facebook has grown, it has taken on many more functions: some deliberately planned by the company, and some as a result of users adapting its features for their own needs. It has moved from a simple tool for college students to a 600 million-strong forum for sharing personal and public news. It’s been used in revolutions in Egypt, and by journalists, charities and celebrities to publicise and communicate.

Facebook’s attempts to reflect these new uses have led to some byzantine rules and designs, often haphazardly enforced.

Everyone is required to use their real name: but Anti used his account for three years, before anyone at Facebook challenged him. Zuckerberg’s dog gets a free ride on the service without a “real name”, because Facebook has declared him a “public figure”.

Zuckerberg’s dog, like other public figures, has a page that looks like a normal account page, but he doesn’t have friends (you can “like” him instead), and can’t receive Facebook messages.

That’s okay for a dog – or a politician or a celebrity wishing to maintain a one-way connection with Facebook fans. But if you’re a journalist in a regime that is cracking down on press freedom, much of the point of maintaining a presence on social networks is to stay in close and constant touch with your readers, your sources and fellow writers. Private messaging can allow sources to stay in touch: and enable warnings to be spread.

Such activity is happening right now in China. There is an ongoing online clampdown on activists attempting to create a local version of the Egyptian protests, and journalists reporting such activism. Journalists and their sources are exchanging a flurry of warnings of places not to go, reports of colleagues who have been threatened; and equally, a vital exchange of story leads and eyewitness reports.

Is Facebook a safe or appropriate place for such discussions? The site is blocked in China; the security of communications on the site is hard to guarantee.

Even in places where it is not officially supported, Facebook has become the preferred and sometimes only way to stay in contact; and you can only reach out to such users if you stay a member of Facebook. If you leave or have your account deleted, Facebook will not provide you with any way to remain in contact with those you communicate with.

Delete an e-mail account, and you can take away your e-mail address book. Throw away your phone, and you get to keep your friend’s phone numbers. If you leave or are thrown off Facebook, as Michael Anti was, you will lose all contact with anyone who chose to reach out to you on that medium.

They may not even know you’ve gone. Michael Anti, the journalist, may no longer have an account on Facebook. But Michael Anti, the “public figure”, certainly does. Facebook still maintains two pages about Anti, as mirrors of his entries in the English and Chinese Wikipedia.

Like Zuckerberg’s dog, you can’t message these Michael Antis, or make friends with them. You can “like” them, though. Note, though, that Facebook recently changed what happens when you click on the “like” button. These days, it will automatically post a headline, blurb and thumbnail to your profile.

Again, that’s hardly a big change if all you are doing is liking a dog on the internet. But “liking” Michael Anti or other challenging journalists so publicly in China may not be a wise act under the current conditions.

It’s the sort of subtle ramification of Facebook technology changes a tech-savvy local reporter like Michael Anti might choose to inform and warn his readers about, especially on his own page.

But the “real” Michael Anti can’t do that. He isn’t real enough for Facebook. Instead, only these silent placeholders remain.