I’m currently at the CHI conference, which is commanding all of my attention, but the news about Twitter and the Library of Congress is too big to ignore (see also Zimmer, RWW). Quoting the LoC:
Have you ever sent out a “tweet” on the popular Twitter social media service? Congratulations: Your 140 characters or less will now be housed in the Library of Congress.
According to Biz Stone, Twitter will begin transferring all of their public tweets, after a six-month embargo, to a permanent, public archive at the Library of Congress. Let me say something (probably) unpopular: I’m a little horrified.
If you talk to people about things shared online, you generally run into two assumptions. The first is that things shared publicly are meant for the general public. The second is that things shared publicly are meant for posterity. Both of these assumptions are dangerous. Some of my recent work has identified that people do share privately in public, and that individuals do engage in the grooming (i.e. removal) of content shared publicly. danah’s found this. So have lots of others. If there’s anything we should know by now about social media, is that a deterministic, one-size-fits-all approach to privacy is a bad approach to privacy.
This is what makes Twitter’s “gift” troubling. It assumes that all content shared publicly is truly public and for posterity. Let’s consider some edge cases. Bob has two Twitter accounts, one for work and a personal account. Both are public, but the only way people find out about his personal account is that he tells people the obscure handle. Bob wants to be practically obscure – private in public – without going to all the trouble of setting up complicated privacy controls. So what happens, two years from now, when Bob accidentally discloses his handle in the wrong context, and he needs to remove some Tweets?
There’s probably a certain class of reader that looks at Bob and says, well, Bob’s out of luck. There’s Google cache and third party tools and a whole host of other ways tweets are preserved. The difference I’d argue is that these tools have certain properties – they react to API calls, they decay, etc. – that make them qualitatively different from a professionally managed archive. Through the creation of a permanent, public, third-party archive, Twitter changes the privacy-management strategies that are going to be available to users in the future. This is critical, because if Bob can’t trust his down-the-road privacy management strategy, Bob might share less today.
This is a great opportunity to plug the work of Helen Nissenbaum, whose most recent book Privacy in Context extends the argument for privacy as contextual integrity. Nissenbaum argues that disclosures have contextual expectations, and that shifting these expectations constitutes a meaningful violation of privacy and freedom. Even though the tweets are public, it is a fallacy to assume that digital content shared in public was created with an understanding that the content would end up in a third-party, government-managed archive. Facebook’s helped us demonstrate again and again that privacy is both qualitative and quantitative.
Practically, there are some questions that Twitter needs to address about this move. First, Twitter’s terms of service specifies that:
You retain your rights to any Content you submit, post or display on or through the Services. By submitting, posting or displaying Content on or through the Services, you grant us a worldwide, non-exclusive, royalty-free license (with the right to sublicense) to use, copy, reproduce, process, adapt, modify, publish, transmit, display and distribute such Content in any and all media or distribution methods (now known or later developed).
The way I read this is that as long as your content is on Twitter, Twitter can do what they want with it. Fine. But what if you remove your content from Twitter? Wouldn’t Twitter’s licensing of your content to the LoC also expire? Twitter needs to address exactly how we can pull our content out of the archive when we want. Michael Zimmer thinks that Twitter users won’t have the ability to remove tweets from LoC, so how will Twitter rectify this in the terms of service?
A broader question is why Twitter didn’t just build this as an opt-in service. Or even, less preferably, an opt-out service. Is the collection so important that it is worth compromising user privacy? I’ve got a feeling that there are certain assumptions around “public” content and the feel-good vibe of the Library of Congress that led to a lack of critical thinking about the implications of this move. It’s time for Twitter to start sharing more information, opening up an earnest conversation about this move.










