History shows us that censoring the Internet is a futile exercise, so why is the Australian Government trying again?
Earlier this week the Australian Government began a trial run of its new multi-million dollar attempt at filtering your Internet. And as one revered writer once put it, this was generally considered a bad move. Not that you’d hear that from a large percentage of this country’s population; most are not keenly aware of the resulting damage that could follow. Neither, it seems, is Senator Stephen Conroy, the man with the somewhat peculiar title of Minister for Broadband, Communications, and the Digital Economy, and the man at the forefront of its legislation.
Disregard if you can, the government survey that states 61% of surveyed parents aren’t actually concerned with their child’s internet usage, try to ignore the ethical arguments against government-controlled censorship, and consider the technical issues of their proposal, all of which have the potential to adversely affect Net users throughout the country, and all of which haven’t been discussed in the public sphere.
In an interview with online news website, ZDNET, security expert Matthew Strahan outlines the very simple ways in which a hacker can compromise the filters themselves, a task made easier if the technology implemented becomes standard-issue. Strahan, a ‘white hat’ hacker in the employ of security firm, Securus Global, states that a hacked filter, among other things, could be used to facilitate the theft of personal data, expose email and other communications, and in a worst case scenario, can result in the total manipulation and rerouting of Australia’s internet traffic. “Depending on how they set it up, an attacker could become the man in the middle of every single Australian home connection, which is a huge thing,” he says.
This is to say nothing of the potential performance hit on your internet connection, due to your internet service provider’s scanning of every website you visit, or of false positives, where innocuous websites are flagged as unsuitable.
It should come as little surprise, then, that the government report (Developments in Internet Filtering Technology and Other Measures for Promoting Online Safety) makes zero mention of these security issues. It certainly neglects to mention the likes of 15-year-old schoolboy, Tom, who succeeded in circumventing the previous government’s $84million NetAlert software – in thirty minutes.
The confidence with which Luddite politicians attempt to save our precious minds from some intangible darkness is staggering, and, well, from the perspective of a man born a little closer to the Information Age than our humble saviour, Senator Conroy, it’s hilarious, too. I laugh and smile to think that while parents take instruction from their younglings on how to use the latest incomprehensible new piece of gadgetry, the kids themselves are learning about things like proxy servers and SSH tunnels to avoid school-enforced blocks on Facebook and Myspace. It is simply a matter of desire; if one wants to bypass the censors, one will. This freedom, this notion of ‘if you can think it, you can do it’ is a defining characteristic of the online world, and because governments cannot comprehend its nature, they consistently try – and fail – to control it.
The ‘save the children’ movement, sadly, is rarely short of parochial members. Just take a look at Jack Thompson. No, not the accomplished Australian actor. I’m talking of the very un-accomplished American lawyer, who, as if willed by God himself, seems to have made it his life’s work to eliminate any video game that contains a trace of wanton violence or, dare the words be uttered, sexual imagery. Every month, Thompson, armed with a burning belief that would shame any evangelist, would make appearances on another news network, lecturing America on what’s corrupting the kid’s minds now.
The warmth with which Thompson was received by Fox News and Conservatives in general belied his unpopularity with the general public though, who stopped paying him much attention. He had become a one-man circus, a court jester even, such was the enthusiasm with which he litigated and protested and self-flagellated (who knows?), crying foul at the faintest hint of virtual sin. He was especially unpopular within the court system, and the Florida Supreme Court resolved that by disbarring him.
South Australia’s Attorney-General, Michael Atkinson, whose similar battle has received next to no coverage in the Australian media, doesn’t share the obstacles that Thompson endured. In a country where personal freedoms are implied but not inscribed, Atkinson remains the lone dissenting vote that keeps Australian gamers from R-rated video games (To call it a battle would no doubt be disrespectful to our war veterans – I should liken it to a blindfolded man sitting at a desk with his fingers in his ears – “Lalalalala!”). Here in this beloved country of ours, a lift on the ban of R-rated video games requires not merely a majority vote from all state Attorneys-General, but a unanimous decision from them.
Whether or not you believe that one man’s opinion should be the final word on the subject is a discussion for another time. You might think it awfully strange – unfair even – that films can have an adult audience but a game cannot, and you might be correct. You might even ponder on the idea that World War II, Caligula, Jack The Ripper, and that vile temptress, Eve, were all invented a long time before the PlayStation was, and you’d be right there, too. It doesn’t matter a great deal right now. In fact it matters precisely zero to the gaming audience, because the law doesn’t actually affect them.
The pointy end of the law is pointed in the wrong direction. Quite simply, the programmers, artists, writers, publishers, distributors, and retailers who are responsible for the creation and delivery of this entertainment to Australian audiences all lose a significant part of their livelihood because of this one man from South Australia. The Australian Government, as shows like Border Patrol resolutely maintain, still wields an impressive degree of power over the goods that arrive to our shores. But gamers will always get their software, come hell, treacherous high waters, or censorious politicians, because the mechanism by which they often resort to play them – the Internet – knows no boundaries.
Think the ban on graffiti-loving game Getting Up: Contents Under Pressure prevented anyone here from spraying virtual walls? Or what about Manhunt, Soldier of Fortune, F.E.A.R 2, or Silent Hill? Think again. How about the conditions the Australian Ratings Board placed on one of the biggest game releases in recent years, the post-apocalyptic Fallout 3? Apparently Ma and Pa Government didn’t like the animation that depicted drug use, despite the punishment you receive in-game for becoming addicted to it, so it was banned. That didn’t work, either. Gamers just downloaded the full, unedited package from the web.
To many customers sitting on the fence between illegal downloads and legitimate purchases, the government is effectively providing guilt-free justification for the former. I can’t purchase the game legally, therefore, thank you very much Pirate Bay!
These stories form another frustrating chapter in history’s morality war; the never-ending fight between personal choice and We Know What’s Best For You.
It is a concept that eludes culture warriors like Conroy and Atkinson, very much to the detriment of the people who probably voted for them. They seem to miss – or perhaps, choose to ignore – the contradictions within their own political, religious, and moral groups that would otherwise render their arguments completely worthless. Can a person crusade against violent or morally ambiguous video games while turning a blind eye to his Government as they participate in war, or priests, as they abuse their flock? Can we, in good faith, lecture others on the dangers of drugs while engaging in activities sponsored by alcohol and drug companies?
One can fathom the idea of a politician scoring easy votes with scare campaigns about the latest fad; heck, tabloid current affairs programs do it every night. But on the very real chance that these men are serious in their endeavour, might they consider this question: Do video games and the Internet exert greater influence over society’s moral compass than, say, God? What about Government? Religion? Divorce? War? Money?…Harry Potter?
There is no correct response, of course. All of these things influence everyone in myriad ways, and to varying degrees; some in the extreme, some not at all. It follows, then, that while not all parents nurture their children in the way people such as Senator Conroy would like, many do. The result is, and always has been, the same. Some thrive, others wilt. Most will join society and become productive, others will not, regardless of what’s blaring from their iPod or glowing on their computer screen. Developing nations, afterall, produce adults to the same pattern, and without the spoils of wealth. Very often in these situations, the sole difference is the opportunity to learn.
A logical suggestion may be therefore that we not remove choice from everybody, but provide education to somebody where it’s needed. Show unwise parents what their kid might be playing or looking at online. Let’s provide and place greater emphasis on ethics classes for young children. Their values and social habits are not yet entrenched, so why not provide them with the skills to help them live well, while teaching them right from wrong? The knock-on effects could be profound; happier, healthier, more confident youth; self-assurance balanced with respect for others. Forget banned titles like Bully – what might happen to bullying? The benefits of this approach could be profound.
We’ve come this far.
Pixels, I’m certain, will not be the death of us.