The end of Twitter’s age of innocence

An English council’s successful attempt to subpoena Twitter users’ account information in US courts

Well, it turns out the law applies to Twitter, too. A Californian court has ordered Twitter to hand over the details of five Twitter accounts as part of an English council's investigation into a local whistleblowing blogger called "Mr Monkey".

That South Tyneside Council went directly to the Californian court was the Times's top line. Seeing as Twitter is a US company, this is hardly surprising, particularly when the website's terms of service are taken into account. Under the heading "Controlling Law and Jurisdiction", it says:

All claims, legal proceedings or litigation arising in connection with the Services will be brought solely in San Francisco County, California, and you consent to the jurisdiction of and venue in such courts and waive any objection as to inconvenient forum. [Emphasis added]

In other words, if a person or organisation wants to subpoena information about a Twitter user, they have to do so in California – and the user has to fight against it in California. While footballers and councils can afford to launch such proceedings – South Tyneside has so far spent "less than £75,000" in its attempts to unmask Mr Monkey – many Twitter users will not be able to afford to defend them.

Although the story broke yesterday in the Sunday Telegraph, it has been rumbling on for months. Mr Monkey published the following email exchange, between South Tyneside and the solicitor investigating Mr Monkey on the council's behalf (click to enlarge for both).

Email exchange

Continued:

Email exchange

South Tyneside's success could prove extremely significant. Ryan Giggs's lawyers were unsuccessful in their recent attempt to force Twitter to hand over details of accounts that speculated whether the Manchester United footballer had taken out an injunction.

Lawyers for Giggs went through the high court in the UK; if they were to try through California's lawcourts, however, they would stand a much better chance, as it is these courts that actually have jurisdiction over Twitter.

Throughout the 2000s, London gained the nickname of a "town called Sue" in legal circles, after it became an extremely popular destination for libel tourism. The advent of Twitter, however, has twisted this upside down. The case of Mr Monkey could trigger a flood of libel traffic in the opposite direction, across the Atlantic.

In any case, Twitter's age of innocence is over. Anonymity is not guaranteed and users are neither immune to libel nor impervious to injunctions. Unless you can afford a good lawyer and a few return trips to San Francisco, be wary. Mind your tweets.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear