The Aaron Swartz lesson: how undeveloped laws target the vulnerable

A tragedy, with a powerful moral.

On Friday 11 January, Aaron Swartz was found dead at his apartment in New York. He was 26. The following day, Tim Berners-Lee, creator of the World Wide Web, tweeted: “Aaron dead. World wanderers, we have lost a wise elder. Hackers for right, we are one down. Parents all, we have lost a child. Let us weep.”

The response to his death by suicide was overwhelming but unsurprising – Swartz had been an internet legend since his teenage years. At 14, he helped to put together RSS – technology that is part of the backbone of the web. While still in his teens, he played a vital role in creating Reddit, the hugely popular networking news site, and shared the profits when it was later bought by Condé Nast.

Swartz was a hero to activists pushing for open access to content on the internet, working to create a free public library and founding Demand Progress – a pressure group that successfully campaigned against the Stop Online Piracy Act. He was also an inspiration to many.

His friend Lawrence Lessig, a Harvard professor, wrote: “He was brilliant, and funny. A kid genius. A soul, a conscience, the source of a question I have asked myself a million times: What would Aaron think?”

Then there were the stunts. At one point, Swartz made about 20 per cent of US case law available on the web for free. Although it was officially in the “public domain”, the system that categorised it – Pacer – charged a fee to everyone who tried to access it. Activists created Recap, a database that collected what people had already bought and gave it to others for free. Through this – devised at his own expense – Swartz moved a large amount of data on to the web. He was pursued by the FBI but it dropped the charges. The rumour was it bore a grudge.

The big problems started when Swartz crept into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology with a laptop and started downloading millions of academic journal articles from the subscription-only service JSTOR. At the time he was charged, he hadn’t yet distributed them. And he never intended to make money from any of it.

However, US government prosecutors hit him with the harshest possible penalties. Swartz ended up facing more than 30 years in jail, trapped by laws that had been designed to deal with organised criminals, bank robbers and those who steal corporate information for profit.

“Stealing is stealing,” said the federal attorney Carmen Ortiz, speaking for the prosecution at the time, “whether you use a computer command or a crowbar, and whether you take documents, data or dollars.”

Her phrasing echoes the much-mocked anti-piracy ads that begin “You wouldn’t steal a car . . . You wouldn’t steal a handbag” and feature sirens wailing and cops approaching as a schoolchild tries to download a copy of what is probably Mean Girls off Pirate Bay. Those ads are mocked for a reason. Downloading a film (or an article) is self-evidently not the same as stealing one from a shop. For one thing, the precise laws governing online behaviour are ill-defined and badly enforced. And when the laws are enforced, it seems random, unforeseeable and badly out of proportion.

Graham Smith, an IT and copyright lawyer for the international legal firm Bird & Bird, says that the law governing the digital world is very much “in a state of development” and, as a result, “One should be very careful about criminalising things online. Criminal law is a blunt instrument.”

But we have not been careful with these laws – in the UK as well as in the US – and they seem to have hit only the vulnerable. Take Glenn Mangham, a British student who hacked into Facebook just to see if he could. He did nothing with the information. “It was to expose vulnerabilities in the system,” Mangham told the crown court. He was jailed for eight months.

One of the saddest ironies of this story is that Swartz spent his life trying to show everyone just how unreasonable laws can become when they are rigidly applied to the internet. Last year, he identified an ongoing “battle” over copyright law, “a battle to define everything that happens on the internet in terms of traditional things that the law understands”. If the battle was left unresolved, Swartz said, “New technology, instead of bringing us greater freedom, would have snuffed out fundamental rights we’d always taken for granted.”

His suicide was “the product of a criminal justice system rife with intimidation and prosecutorial overreach”, his family said in a statement on 12 January. A tragedy, with a powerful moral.

Aaron Swartz had been an internet legend since his teenage years, Photograph: Getty Images

Martha Gill writes the weekly Irrational Animals column. You can follow her on Twitter here: @Martha_Gill.

This article first appeared in the 21 January 2013 issue of the New Statesman, The A-Z of Israel

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“Socialism with an iPad” isn't as ludicrous as it sounds

Technology is changing the labour market faster than ever before. John McDonnell argues that it's the state's responsibility to make sure the outcome is fair for everyone. 

The speech shadow chancellor John McDonnell gave at Imperial College earlier today started fine. As my colleague George Eaton points out, McDonnell was valiantly attempting to reframe the economic debate – to show how investment, especially in technology research and infrastructure, could reinvigorate the economy in ways austerity can’t. 

But then he got to the last line. “It’s socialism,” he summed up, “but socialism with an iPad.”

The clunky slogan sailed a thousand The Thick of it references (Bat People and App Britain featured prominently), and its use as a soundbite across the media made McDonnell’s argument look out-of-touch and embarrassing. But in the context of his argument, the line isn’t as nonsensical as it sounds.

Buried in the speech were a number of important arguments about how we let technological advancement come about. It’s lazy to assume that technology is inherently democratic, and will necessarily bring about a fairer society – as things stand, it’s deepy embedded in capitalism. But it's also changing the labour market faster than ever before: automation and robotics will soon mean that most tasks can be carried out  by machine, making those who control those machines vastly more powerful than those who don’t. 

In his speech, McDonnell pointed out that automation will replace low-paid workers first:

Technological advance is forcing the pace of change. Bank of England research suggests that 15 million jobs could be at risk of automation over the next decade or so. And those most at risk from automation are the lowest-paid.

He added that technological advances, and the changes they’ll make to the labour market, must be managed by the state so that workers don't lose out. Technology contributes to the wealth gap, and could well make it worse, unless, as McDonnell says, the government “understands and accepts the strategic role it has to play in our new economy”. This sounds woolly, but it's an important point - Tory policy on issues like tax or the the Transatlantic Trade Partnership (TTIP) has been remarkably hands-off in ceding power to large corporations. 

McDonnell implied that a large and involved state is crucial in a globalised, technological world, to ensure that workers' rights don't fall through the cracks and inequalities don't widen. A large welfare state would help cushion workers in a changing economy -  tax credits, as McDonnell explained earlier, can help make up for low wages in small, start-up businesses. 

Corporations have a poor record of improving working life and helping out those unable to work, or whose skills become redundant. These safeguards will become ever-more important as technology changes the labour market forever. And it’s here, McDonnell argued, that a bit of socialism will be needed. Even if it's carrying an iPad. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.