#Goldilocks theory free

Instead, the flurry of amendments has served as a divide-and-conquer tactic: when I speak to MPs worried about online abuse, they have as much to say about the lobbying from big tech as they do about the failures of the government to produce a bill that will actually change the tone of online discourse. Smaller internet firms are told that they won’t be “in scope” for the most stringent requirements anyway, while “big tech” is given a stern finger wag and warned that the whole thing could be much stricter if they complain too much.įor a while, the tactic worked – though not for producing good legislation. And so the many-headed hydra grows some more heads: the free-speech Tories introduce amendments that require tech companies to file a document listing their duties around freedom of expression and privacy with Ofcom the child protection groups are partially sated with requirements to file risk assessments about the possibility that a kid may stumble across porn, or content promoting self-harm, suicide or eating disorders. The Goldilocks theory of policy suggests that, if it is impossible to please all those groups at once, then the optimal bill will result in annoying them all equally. A crossbench collection of female MPs are warning the bill does little to tackle hate campaigns that drive women off the internet, while almost the entire internet economy is warning that it is, in various ways, likely to be absolutely ruinous to the sector, to be greeted only with rolled eyes and: “They would say that, wouldn’t they?”

#Goldilocks theory free

Supporters and opponents have been lumped together in broad caucuses: here, a smattering of Conservative MPs and freedom-of-expression groups who think the bill is a risk to free speech there, the Labour party and anti-extremism organisations, who argue it won’t go nearly far enough in tackling online radicalisation.

Any one of those topics could, and should, take a whole bill’s legislative time of scrutiny to ensure that they are future-proof, without false economies or unforeseen consequences instead, they are mere skirmishes on the edges of the debate.Īnd so the conversation around the bill has been largely vibes-based.

There is simply too much detail to cover, ranging from efforts to formalise how much work needs to be done by social networks to remove child abuse material, to attempts to provide a working definition of news websites that doesn’t include Russia Today, through requirements to verify the ages of children and bans on taking politically motivated moderation decisions. Such a huge bill defeats all but the most dedicated attempts to analyse it in detail. These topics should take a whole bill’s legislative time of scrutiny… instead, they are skirmishes on the edgesĪt 230 pages before amendments, sprawling over 197 clauses and 15 schedules, the cost of simply having one person at every potentially affected platform reading the damn thing has been estimated by the government at £4m (though one expert suggests the true figure is exponentially higher given the bill’s scope and complexity, and risk of criminal penalties). It’s got the fingerprints of two prime minsters and six DCMS secretaries over it, running the gamut from the extremely online Matt Hancock to Jeremy Wright, who always gave the impression that he’d rather be relaxing with his Lego than being shouted at by Facebook, and it shows. The bill is a monster piece of legislation, with its roots in a green paper published way back in October 2017. To its supporters, the online safety bill, which was dropped from the legislative calendar last Wednesday to make space for a no-confidence motion in the government, sits firmly in the Goldilocks zone.