Michael Martin

Barack Obama wants you (to spill your secrets)

Prospective White House employees must cough up an unprecedented amount of detail about their online activity. Is the new administration being smart -- or scary?

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Barack Obama wants you (to spill your secrets)

In his first press conference after the election, Barack Obama cracked a joke about Nancy Reagan holding séances in the White House. (It was factually inaccurate; the former first lady was into horoscopes, not “Hellraiser.”) This provoked the administration’s first apology, but not the first bipartisan critique. That came a week later, with the release of the administration’s job application.

In 63 questions over seven pages, prospective White House employees are being asked — in addition to questions about finances, gun ownership and, possibly, flossing habits — to list “all aliases or ‘handles’ you have used to communicate on the Internet,” everything they’ve written, “including, but not limited to, any posts or comments on blogs or other websites,” links to their Facebook or MySpace pages and any potentially embarrassing “electronic communication, including but not limited to an email, text message or instant message.”

Three, two, one, controversy! “Mr. Obama has elevated the vetting even beyond what might have been expected,” declared the New York Times on Nov. 13. TV commentators, giddy with White House puppy speculation only hours earlier, expressed concern. The words “intrusive” and “most extensive” were frequently used. Rachel Maddow raised her first eyebrow at the new administration. In a commentary on ABCNews.com, Sam Donaldson wondered if Obama would pass his own vetting (citing question 20, about association with controversial characters).

By now, it’s conventional wisdom that Obama’s transition team intends to “avoid the mistakes” of the Clinton administration, whose early Cabinet appointments were under-researched and ultimately sunk by scandals involving untaxed nannies and undocumented housekeepers. In that view, the prospect of a little rigor seems reassuring. The wounded right is almost certainly coiled to pounce on the first sign of indiscretion. And Sarah Palin — that improper gift that kept on giving — was propelled onto the national stage largely by lazy vetting.

But something about those Internet-usage questions caused a lingering shock. The idea of listing every blog comment you’ve ever made? Laughable. But the imperative to disclose every Internet alias you’ve ever used? Uncomfortable. Unexpected. And more than a little ironic. The grassroots campaign that was incubated — and largely won — on the Internet has now assumed the role of moral groundskeeper, parsing and judging the online behavior of the generation that launched it.

“It reflects, in a strange way, the relatively clean record the president-elect has,” says Paul Ohm, an associate professor of law at the University of Colorado. No one was really able to dig up dirt on Obama. Starting at the very top, you have someone who has laid it all bare and lived to see the next day. So maybe it doesn’t seem exceptional to ask those who want to work for him to do the same thing.” Obama did, after all, confess to drinking, doing drugs and engaging in other youthful indiscretions in his 1995 memoir, “Dreams From My Father.”

But how clean will Obama’s staffers have to be? Today, everyone has an extensive Web trail, and young and old alike have embarrassed themselves online, either by accident or an ignorance of potential repercussions. How many members of Generation O, newly roused to the idea of government participation, will be judged unfit because they were playing against rules they didn’t foresee? Will the application have a chilling effect, discouraging potentially qualified candidates? Will the administration be staffed with an army of flavorless Tracy Flicks, resulting in a more conservative White House than we bargained for, at least from a human-resources standpoint?

We don’t know. Clues will become evident only down the road — if and when thwarted applicants choose to blog about it. But, for now, privacy experts don’t agree that the application is all that intrusive. “It may not be a good thing or a comfortable thing, but I think it was to be expected in today’s information age,” says Anita L. Allen, a professor of law and philosophy at the University of Pennsylvania. “If it’s a little bit awkward, it’s because we’ve never had to do this before. In history, there’s never been so many different ways in which embarrassing, salacious or inappropriate conduct can go viral. It shouldn’t be surprising that an administration that’s raised so much money by using the Internet also understands, better than most, the dangers the Internet poses for revealing embarrassing facts about people’s lives. ”

In the application, the words “controversial” and “embarrassing” appear several times. But how do you define either, and what is a disqualifier? An impulsive rant in a comments section? An ill-advised foray into Second Life? Holding a beer in a Facebook photo? Who among us has not sent a text message — or a hundred — that might not embarrass us in retrospect, much less an entire presidential administration? In this sexy, Web-savvy new political era, must individuals with even a cursory interest in future government service comport themselves online like traditional politicians?

“One concern is: Is requesting this information a substitute for a moral vetting?” says Allen. “There are issues to be discussed there, and it might be very troubling, especially to liberals, to think that someone has to have led a conventionally squeaky-clean, perfect life in order to be qualified to work for a new administration. My guess is that this isn’t about morality. It’s about appearances. The Obama administration does not want to appear to be full of people with salacious backgrounds, nor does it want to have to waste time dealing with media publicity around an embarrassing past. There are way more important things to worry about right now.”

Marc Rotenberg, the executive director of the Electronic Privacy Information Center in Washington, says the questionnaire’s level of vetting is appropriate. “I’m not necessarily against intrusive questions,” he says. “What I’m concerned about is the absence of any notable privacy protection that would prevent the subsequent use of the information. It illustrates a larger problem that the United States has: We don’t have good privacy safeguards for the collection of personal data in the private sector. The Obama administration should be credited for the good job they’ve done so far in setting a high bar for ethics in government. But the transition team has dropped the ball in not establishing similar high standards for the privacy of the very detailed information they’re gathering from this questionnaire.”

In some ways, the application is merely an extension of corporate background checks that have been going on for years. “What’s being asked is not qualitatively different from the kind of highly personal information that’s been asked in the past: medical exams, drug and alcohol tests,” says Allen, who is accustomed to being interviewed by the FBI about the suitability of former students for government posts. “Background checks are nothing new. It feels new because the questions are different, but my guess is we’re going to get used to asking these kind of questions.”

In fact, the questionnaire may be ultimately more old school than it seems: Because any disclosures about online behavior are voluntary, they promise to be as effective as other voluntary disclosures usually are. If given a questionnaire about inappropriate online behavior, Mark Foley probably wouldn’t have owned up to his definitely embarrassing chat sessions with teenage boys. “I think asking the questions is more about setting the tone and justifying the later punishment,” says Ohm. “The administration would be fooling themselves if they think they’re immunizing themselves from scandal. Almost every applicant is going to withhold the truly, truly, devastatingly embarrassing thing that’s out there.”

The question about online handles disturbs Ohm a little more. “There, they’re starting to tread on personal, private anonymity in a way that is kind of without precedent,” he says. “I can’t think of another situation where someone had been compelled to give up all of their handles. There are very good reasons you might have an email address squirreled away that no one knows about, and it doesn’t seem fair to have to reveal that to get a job like this.”

Back to Nancy Reagan for a second. In the 2002 story collection “Things You Should Know,” A.M. Homes published a short story that envisioned the former first lady leading an elaborate secret life on the Internet, logging on to the Psychic Friends Network as “Starpower,” flirting with a middle-aged biker under the name “Lady Hawke” and joining an Alzheimer’s support group as “Edith Iowa.”

Like the fictional first lady, most of us have found community and enlightenment in anonymity. (Well, in concept.) In recent years, legal scholarship has held that one of the benefits of privacy is one’s ability to try on different masks, to be different people at different times. “There are quite a few very smart people who think this is very essential in self-development as a human being,” says Ohm. “This application is asking you to list all of those different masks next to one another, and link them all to one another: The person who did X is also the person who did Y and also sent e-mail V. That’s a real powerful unmasking. Now the administration has that document, and that may get into the public someday. In some ways, it is forcing us to violate some trust we had — it was the one thing we didn’t think we’d ever be asked, and to get this job we desperately want, this is what we have to do.”

But not all of us, not yet. “This is a fairly rarefied category of people. We have, regrettably, watched celebrities lose a fair amount of privacy over the years. This is the same sort of thing,” says Ohm. “On the other hand, if Obama starts asking this question of the fourth-tier appointees or, God forbid, career appointees, then nothing I’ve said would be true, and I’d be much more alarmed.”

What is clear: The release of the Obama application is the latest, and loudest, in a series of wakeup calls about the conflict between online socializing and professional opportunity, and even those who’ve never aimed a tourist’s camera toward the White House — much less a lifetime of ambition — could be forgiven for taking a personal inventory. None of us truly knows which parts of our online selves we’ll be asked, or expected, to proffer in the future — or that no opportunity is worth that revelation. This marks a turning point in what online privacy is, or what we can expect it to be, and our ongoing negotiations between online self-expression and self-care.

“This is the new reality,” says Allen. “On one hand, we’ve moved forward in terms of technology. But we’ve not moved forward in terms of our expectations of demeanor, professionalism and judgment. We’re kind of living in the 1950s and the 21st century at the same time.”

 

Old people Facebook disasters

Professionals over 30 have joined the networking site in droves, but with great convenience can come great embarrassment.

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Old people Facebook disasters

The day that Kim Bowen accidentally sent a video of a woman shitting in a hot tub to 200 of her co-workers was the day she knew her relationship with Facebook would never be the same.

“It was horrible,” says Bowen, a 30-something filmmaker, in the tremulous tones of a former bank hostage. “I’m a pretty wild person. I like a laugh. But not like that.

What happened was this: A friend (now former) posted a video on Bowen’s Facebook wall. It depicts a bikini-clad woman sliding into a hot tub occupied by two other women and a man. Seconds later, she is overcome by a gastrointestinal issue that sends her tub mates scrambling for refuge. (The video, which originally appeared on the purported humor site ebaumsworld.com and today persists on YouTube, has been largely debunked as fake.)

This was cold comfort to Bowen, who uses her Facebook account mostly for professional networking. “It was disgusting,” she says. “I thought, ‘I don’t want that on my wall.’ So I went to delete it. Then an on-screen message popped up: ‘Your video has been forwarded.’ And I thought — what? Who has it been forwarded to?”

In her haste, Bowen had clicked “Forward” instead of “Delete.” Facebook automatically selected all her contacts, e-mailing the video to “clients, agents, studios, everyone,” says Bowen. “A famous producer I’d ‘friended’ but never contacted — my face showed up on his Facebook page next to a Jacuzzi diarrhea video.”

Fortunately for Bowen, Facebook allows wall postings to be deleted by the poster, so she spent three hours in triage, visiting page after page to excise the offensive snippet. But several people had already watched it, and Bowen immediately found herself frozen out of polite online society, a seemingly scat-obsessed Lily Bart. “Some people I used to work with, the only message they received from me in the last year was that video. I have not heard from any of them since,” she says. “I posted a status update that said, ‘Kim is very traumatized by the video she forwarded by mistake.’ And nobody replied! I would have loved somebody to say, ‘Wow, hey, what’s going on with you? Or, ‘Uh, is this what you’re into now?’ But there was … total … silence.” She shudders.

The events of that day, random as they may seem, point to a dubious trend. For years, college students have been opting out of future employment via boobie-flashing, obscene status updates and the pictorial remembrances of keg stands past on their social-networking pages — “Ladettes glorify their shameful drunken antics!” screamed one typically British headline in the U.K.’s Daily Mail — but now, the voices of reason, the beacons in the online wilderness, the adults who once clucked their tongues over the follies of youth, are lining up to humiliate themselves on Facebook.

Although the site exploded into public consciousness as a college network, now it’s for everyone. (Literally everyone: From cheese enthusiasts to fans of the ’80s robot-girl sitcom “Small Wonder.”) More people over 30 are adopting Facebook as a networking tool, and this was the year the old people swarmed the pool party. (By the way, when we talk about “old people,” we don’t mean old people. We mean “old people in Facebook years” — so anyone on the northern side of 30 is a winner.) There are seven interest groups for people in their 40s, and one for people born in the 40s. The spunkily titled group “Over 30 — Not Over the Hill!” began in May and already has 823 members. There is, inevitably, a Cougar Club. “Since this summer, Facebook use has exploded among my age group and older,” says Linda Keenan, a 37-year-old mother who wrote a Huffington Post blog entry in July describing herself as an “aging Facebook whore.” “You should look at the group ‘Creepy Old Guys on Facebook’ — it’s awesome.”

But romping through the kids’ playground can result in stress fractures. “The funny thing in general about Facebook is that you’re there with your colleagues and your friends,” says Laura Bell, a 40-something New York magazine writer [most names and identifying features have been changed at the subjects' request, to spare them further mental anguish], “and the next thing you know you’ve forgotten that your status update is all about how hung over you are.”

Social tragedies involving CC:, BCC: and Reply All are as old as the Internet itself, but Facebook’s applications — the seemingly cute survey and quiz tools that allow you to rank, rate and refer friends — have added a new level of peril to online interaction. Recently, Bell was killing time with the Compare Friends app, which selects five random members of your Friends list and asks you to rate them according to ephemeral criteria. In this case, the question was, “Who smells better?” One of the five contestants was Bell’s boss, whom Facebook notified of her low rank. She then e-mailed Bell to express her dismay.

“If you look at how it’s set up, you have to manually opt out of it notifying your friends of your choices. Which is rather sadistic when you think about it,” says Bell, who laughed off the snafu but has not indulged in the Compare Friends app since.

When Karen Price, a 50-year-old writer, joined Facebook, she was immediately friended by a prominent D.C. media critic. Soon she learned he had been comparing her attractiveness and datability with that of other women. “I’m sure he has no idea I was e-mailed that by the Compare People app folks,” says Price, who was thoroughly weirded out. “I wondered why he was comparing me with another woman in media,” she says. “And then why he found me prettier but another woman more datable. I told myself I shouldn’t wonder about any of this silliness, but … I wondered. It was like finding out your name had been written on the boys’ room wall in high school. I mean, we live in different cities. He’s married. It’s not really about socializing or thinking about dating people, it’s just — wow, after all this time, when none of that stuff is realistically in question … um, it’s in question?”

As a vehicle for working through your delayed adolescence, Facebook’s potential is nearly limitless. “In my case, 55 percent of my graduating class are on it, and I really want to show them that I’m having a better life than any of them: I’ve been to more places, I’ve fucked more people,” says David Taylor, a 32-year-old novelist. “It’s sort of a surreptitious way to brag about your life, and there are applications that help you do that. You can chart all the countries you’ve been to, ask people to vote on what celebrities you look like. The pro is that you get to rub everyone’s faces in your life. The con is you look like a twat.”

But photographic bragging rights come with a price. “The ‘tagging photos’ option [in which people label you in their photos and link to your profile] is a danger,” continues Taylor. “I’ve heard of people claiming not to be at an event, and then it shows up on Facebook — they’re there, three sheets to the wind, with a hooker’s tit in their mouth and their name splashed over the photo.”

In the rush to accumulate friends, relationships get tangled. “You superpoke everyone, including your ex-boss, and I fell prey to that ‘Who has a crush on you’ thing,” says Keenan. “It’s about the colliding circles on Facebook and forgetting who you’ve friended. After the Palin-daughter-is-preggers story, I said in a status update that I ‘feel less of a woman that I have never slept with a Levi or a hockey player’ and then realized my 13-year-old nephew was probably reading it.”

Younger people are blasé about such humiliations. But to older people who aren’t used to making themselves vulnerable online, even minor goofs can be painful and lingering, akin to getting caught naked in an unfamiliar place in front of a crowd. And it used to be worse: Before Facebook modified the default options for what was visible on your wall, every change you made to your profile information was broadcast to your network in real time: “You used to be able to see ‘Linda added the Cure to her favorite music.’” says Keenan. (Now Facebook simply indicates what category of your profile you’ve changed, and you can turn off that option.) “I watched a few friends wrestle with their self-representation, minute by minute. So you’d see, ‘So-and-so has added bossa nova to her favorite music.’ Then two minutes later, ‘So-and-so has removed bossa nova from her favorite music.’ Then a minute later, bossa nova is back. Then people struggling to figure out the books: Ian McEwan is on, then off, then on again. It’s full of pathos.” And doubly embarrassing to be exposed as unfamiliar with the technology, unaware your private identity struggle was being broadcast. “After my initial selection of books, movies and music, I have been loath to add anything for fear of looking so vulnerable,” says Keenan.

Further evidence that Facebook is not a friendly tool for older people can be found in the presidential campaign. While Barack Obama has adeptly harnessed the power of social networking (specifically, a Facebook co-founder: 24-year-old Chris Hughes was hired as his “online organizing guru” in March 2007), John McCain has stumbled. A report released by the Pew Research Center this month indicated that Obama had 1.7 million Facebook supporters and 510,000 MySpace friends; McCain has 309,000 and 88,000 respectively. (The report did not mention that the Facebook group ‘I Have More Foreign Policy Experience than Sarah Palin’ has nearly 122,000 members.) McCain’s highest visibility via Facebook came in July, when he was busted by the New York Times for the GOP’s creation of a fake Facebook page for Obama. (The Internet is, after all, not Ohio — the manipulation of technology isn’t so easily concealed.) The Pew report praised Obama’s early adoption of social networking, and concluded that McCain had been too slow to the table.

Further proof that you can be too old to use Facebook successfully but that it’s never too late to make an ass of yourself. What’s going on? It’s not (entirely) the rise of the new Luddite: People interviewed for this article include a prominent online-media executive and a digital filmmaker. In fact, the ubiquity of technology in our lives may be partly responsible. Call it the BlackBerry effect.

“We’re used to navigating fast on the Web,” says Bowen. “We’re constantly pushing buttons. When you’re online, if you make a wrong move, you can just click back. Facebook pages look like any other Web page, but your moves can’t be reversed. I admit: I click too fast. I don’t think I can blame Facebook for that. I can blame them for a lot of things, but not that.”

A more psychic view: Starved of the sociosexual drama of their teens and 20s, people over 30 are eager to join the confessional zeitgeist and thus become careless. “Older people are definitely sillier and more open to admitting things they like that they may not have admitted before,” says Keenan. “We are so much more bored than young people, and I think we yearn for high-school-style communication.”

To that end: This month, Mara Jensen, a 32-year-old New York City design firm executive, was shocked to discover that her 33-year-old friend — another creative exec — was posting Facebook status updates that announced her desire for a booty call and the beginning of her involvement in an adulterous affair. To Jensen, who considers her friend sexually confident even on a bad day, it seemed a bit mental. “I mean, she’s got to know everyone can see that,” says Jensen. “Right? Or maybe she doesn’t. But I don’t know how to broach it with her.” Which raises an etiquette issue never addressed by Dear Abby: How do you gently tell a friend their entire social network can see up their skirt? And in an era in which Twitter et al. narrow the definition of oversharing on a seemingly daily basis, when does a practical stance become prudish?

There is also the accidents-never-happen theory. “I know a lot of people who use Facebook in an intentionally self-limiting way,” says Brian Battjer, a New York City Web developer with a background in social-networking software. “It’s a full disclosure. A lot of people who put themselves out there use it as a litmus test for how much they’re willing to sell out for the Man. ‘If I can’t represent who I am in real life, and in the face of my potential co-workers, I’m in the wrong job. I’m good at what I do, and anyone who’ll Google me and fire me for that — fuck it.’ The advantage is that you never have to work a job and worry about when the hammer’s going to fall because of who you are.”

As the lines between public and private behavior continue to blur, we find ourselves living in a time of sublime cultural confusion. Consciously or unconsciously, we’re playing out that struggle on the pages of Facebook. “I think the era of having truly separate work, life and relationship realms is dying,” says Bell. “It all just bleeds over into each other. There’s too much information out there to pretend otherwise.”

For now, it’s too much to hope that Facebook will be made foolproof. Battjer, the Web developer, says that for all its privacy functions — you can largely choose which of your friends sees what, what media is displayed on your wall and whether the general public can view your profile or find you by e-mail search, should you have the time and the savvy to set the preferences — Facebook is still a broadcasting venue. Eventually, social networking will evolve into a more peer-to-peer model, a more direct method of transmission where you can pinpoint exactly who can see what information in certain categories, but that may be decades off. “If I choose to disclose a bit of information about myself, there should be all kinds of custom distribution lists I can broadcast that to,” says Battjer. “And until someone comes up with a system to let you tailor your broadcasting more, the current system is going to exist. As people are putting more and more information online, there will there be a demand for people to solve the problem. But for now, to most people, the benefits of social networking outweigh the risks.”

Bowen, the accidental purveyor of the hot-tub video, took a short break from Facebook. But just when she thought she was out, its convenience pulled her back in: She missed being able to keep tabs on far-flung friends. And she has noticed that the default option that led to her embarrassment appears to have been changed. Now, you must individually select contacts to whom you want to forward messages. “What happened to me must have happened to other people,” she says.

Still, “to this day, whenever I watch a video,” she says, “my heart is pounding.”

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