If you have ever worried about media bias then you should really worry about the impact of translation. Before the revolutions, the translation software for Egyptian Arabic was almost non-existent. Few translation applications were able to handle the different Arabic dialects or supply coding labor and capital to build something that could contend with internet blackouts. Google’s Speak to Tweet became the dominant application used in the Egyptian uprisings, delivering one homogenized source of information that fed the other sources. In 2011, this collaboration helped circumvent the problem of Internet connectivity in Egypt by allowing cellphone users to call their tweet into a voicemail to be transcribed and translated. A crowd of volunteers working for Twitter enhanced translation of Egyptian Arabic after the Tweets were first transcribed by a Mechanical Turk application trained from an initial 10 hours of speech.

The unintended consequence of these crowdsourcing applications was that when the material crossed the language barrier into English, it often became inaccessible to the original contributors. Individuals on the ground essentially ceded authorship to crowds of untrained volunteer translators who stripped the information of context, and then plotted it in categories and on maps without feedback from original sources. Controlling the application meant controlling the information flow, the lens through which the revolutions were conveyed to the outside world.

This flawed system prevented the original sources (e.g. in Libya) from interacting with the information that directly related to their own life-threatening situation, while the information became an unsound basis for decision-making by international actors. As Stottlemyre describes, ceding authorship was sometimes an intentional strategy, but also one imposed by the nature of the language/power imbalance and the failure of the translation applications and the associated projects to incorporate feedback loops or more two-way communication.

The after action report for the Libya Crisis Map project commissioned by the UN OCHA offers some insight into the disenfranchisement of sources to the decision-making process once they had provided information for the end product; the crisis map. In the final ‘best practices section’ reviewing the outcomes, The Standby Task Force which created the map described decision-makers and sources, but did not consider or mention the sources’ access to decision-making, the map, or a mechanism by which they could feed back to the decision-making chain. In essence, Libyans were not seen as part of the user group of the product they helped create.

How exactly does translation and crowdsourcing shape our understanding of complex developing crises, or influence subsequent policy decisions?  The SMS polling initiative launched by Al Jazeera English in collaboration with Ushahidi, a prominent crowdsourcing platform, illustrates the most common process of visualizing crisis information: translation, categorization, and mapping.  In December 2011, Al Jazeera launched Somalia Speaks, with the aim of giving a voice to the people of Somalia and sharing a picture of how violence was impacting everyday lives. The two have since repeated this project in Mali, to share opinions about the military intervention in the north.  While Al Jazeera is a news organization, not a research institute or a government actor, it plays an important role in informing electorates who can put political pressure on governments involved in the conflict. Furthermore, this same type of technology is being used on the ground to gather information in crisis situations at the governmental and UN levels.

A call for translators in the diaspora, particularly Somali student groups, was issued online, and phones were distributed on the ground throughout Somalia so multiple users could participate. The volunteers translated the SMSs and categorized the content as either political, social, or economic. The results were color-coded and aggregated on a map.

The stated goal of the project was to give a voice to the Somali people, but the Somalis who participated had no say in how their voices were categorized or depicted on the map. The SMS poll asked an open question:

How has the Somalia conflict affected your life?

In one response example:

The Bosaso Market fire has affected me. It happened on Saturday.

The response was categorized as ‘social.’ But why didn’t the fact that violence happened in a market, an economic centre, denote ‘economic’ categorization? There was no guidance for maintaining consistency among the translators, nor any indication of how the information would be used later. It was these categories chosen by the translators, represented as bright colorful circles on the map, which were speaking to the world, not the Somalis — whose voices had been lost through a crowdsourcing application that was designed with a language barrier. The primary sources could not suggest another category that better suited the intentions of their responses, nor did they understand the role categories would play in representing and visualizing their responses to the English language audience.

An 8 December 2011 comment on the Ushahidi blog described in compelling terms how language and control over information flow impact the power balance during a conflict:

A—-, My friend received the message from you on his phone. The question says “tell us how is conflict affecting your life” and “include your name of location”. You did not tell him that his name will be told to the world. People in Somalia understand that sms is between just two people. Many people do not even understand the internet. The warlords have money and many contacts. They understand the internet. They will look at this and they will look at who is complaining. Can you protect them? I think this project is not for the people of Somalia. It is for the media like Al Jazeera and Ushahidi. You are not from here. You are not helping. It is better that you stay out.

Ushahidi director Patrick Meier, responded to the comment:

Patrick: Dear A—-, I completely share your concern and already mentioned this exact issue to Al Jazeera a few hours ago. I’m sure they’ll fix the issue as soon as they get my message. Note that the question that was sent out does *not* request people to share their names, only the name of their general location. Al Jazeera is careful to map the general location and *not* the exact location. Finally, Al Jazeera has full editorial control over this project, not Ushahidi.

As of 14 January 2012, there were still names featured on the Al Jazeera English website.

The danger is that these categories — economic, political, social — become the framework for aid donations and policy endeavors; the application frames the discussion rather than the words of the Somalis. The simplistic categories become the entry point for policy-makers and citizens alike to understand and become involved with translated material. But decisions and policies developed from the translated information are less connected to ‘real voices’ than we would like to believe.

Developing technologies so that Somalis or Libyans — or any group sharing information via translation — are themselves directing the information flow about the future of their country should be the goal, rather than perpetual simplification into the client / victim that is waiting to be given a voice.

Protesters in Libya called for their own ‘day of rage’ on February 17, 2011, marked by violent protests in several major cities, including the capitol Tripoli. As they transformed from ‘protestors’ to ‘Opposition forces’ they began pushing information onto Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube, reporting their firsthand experiences of what had turned into a civil war virtually overnight. The evolving humanitarian crisis prompted the United Nations to request the creation of the Libya Crisis Map, which was made public on March 6, 2011. Other, more focused crisis maps followed, and were widely distributed on Twitter.

While the map was initially populated with humanitarian information pulled from the media and online social networks, as the imposition of an internationally enforced No Fly Zone (NFZ) over Libya became imminent, information began to appear on it that appeared to be of a tactical military nature. While many people continued to contribute conventional humanitarian information to the map, the sudden shift toward information that could aid international military intervention was unmistakable.

How useful was this information, though? Agencies in the U.S. Intelligence Community convert raw data into useable information (incorporated into finished intelligence) by utilizing some form of the Intelligence Process. As outlined in the U.S. military’s joint intelligence manual, this consists of six interrelated steps all centered on a specific mission. It is interesting that many Twitter users, though perhaps unaware of the intelligence process, replicated each step during the Libyan civil war; producing finished intelligence adequate for consumption by NATO commanders and rebel leadership.

It was clear from the beginning of the Libyan civil war that very few people knew exactly what was happening on the ground. Even NATO, according to one of the organization’s spokesmen, lacked the ground-level informants necessary to get a full picture of the situation in Libya. There is no public information about the extent to which military commanders used information from crisis maps during the Libyan civil war. According to one NATO official, “Any military campaign relies on something that we call ‘fused information’. So we will take information from every source we can… We’ll get information from open source on the internet, we’ll get Twitter, you name any source of media and our fusion centre will deliver all of that into useable intelligence.”

The data in these crisis maps came from a variety of sources, including journalists, official press releases, and civilians on the ground who updated blogs and/or maintaining telephone contact. The @feb17voices Twitter feed (translated into English and used to support the creation of The Guardian’s and the UN’s Libya Crisis Map) included accounts of live phone calls from people on the ground in areas where the Internet was blocked, and where there was little or no media coverage. Twitter users began compiling data and information; they tweeted and retweeted data they collected, information they filtered and processed, and their own requests for specific data and clarifications.

Information from various Twitter feeds was then published in detailed maps of major events that contained information pertinent to military and humanitarian operations. For example, as fighting intensified, @LibyaMap’s updates began to provide a general picture of the battlefield, including specific, sourced intelligence about the progress of fighting, humanitarian and supply needs, and the success of some NATO missions. Although it did not explicitly state its purpose as spreading mission-relevant intelligence, the nature of the information renders alternative motivations highly unlikely.

Interestingly, the Twitter users featured in a June 2011 article by the Guardian had already explicitly expressed their intention of affecting military outcomes in Libya by providing NATO forces with specific geographical coordinates to target Qadhafi regime forces. We could speculate at this point about the extent to which the Intelligence Community might have guided Twitter users to participate in the intelligence process; while NATO and the Libyan Opposition issued no explicit intelligence requirements to the public, they tweeted stories about social network users trying to help NATO, likely leading their online supporters to draw their own conclusions.

It appears from similar maps created during the ongoing uprisings in Syria that the creation of finished intelligence products by crisis mappers may become a regular occurrence. Future study should focus on determining the motivations of mappers for collecting, processing, and distributing intelligence, particularly as a better understanding of their motivations could inform research on the ethics of crisis mapping. It is reasonable to believe that some (or possibly many) crisis mappers would be averse to their efforts being used by military commanders to target “enemy” forces and infrastructure.

Indeed, some are already questioning the direction of crisis mapping in the absence of professional oversight (Global Brief 2011): “[If] crisis mappers do not develop a set of best practices and shared ethical standards, they will not only lose the trust of the populations that they seek to serve and the policymakers that they seek to influence, but (…) they could unwittingly increase the number of civilians being hurt, arrested or even killed without knowing that they are in fact doing so.”

Read the full paper: Stottlemyre, S., and Stottlemyre, S. (2012) Crisis Mapping Intelligence Information During the Libyan Civil War: An Exploratory Case Study. Policy and Internet 4 (3-4).

POLICY: In December 2011, the European Parliament Directive on Combating the Sexual Abuse, Sexual Exploitation of Children and Child Pornography was adopted. The directive’s much-debated Article 25 requires Member States to ensure the prompt removal of child pornography websites hosted in their territory and to endeavor to obtain the removal of such websites hosted outside their territory. Member States are also given the option to block access to such websites to users within their territory. Both these policy choices have been highly controversial and much debated; Karel Demeyer, Eva Lievens, and Jos Dumortie analyse the technical and legal means of blocking and removing illegal child sexual content from the Internet, clarifying the advantages and drawbacks of the various policy options.

Another issue of jurisdiction surrounds government use of cloud services. While cloud services promise to render government service delivery more effective and efficient, they are also potentially stateless, triggering government concern over data sovereignty. Kristina Irion explores these issues, tracing the evolution of individual national strategies and international policy on data sovereignty. She concludes that data sovereignty presents national governments with a legal risk that can’t be addressed through technology or contractual arrangements alone, and recommends that governments retain sovereignty over their information.

While the Internet allows unprecedented freedom of expression, it also facilitates anonymity and facelessness, increasing the possibility of damage caused by harmful online behavior, including online bullying. Myoung-Jin Lee, Yu Jung Choi, and Setbyol Choi investigate the discourse surrounding the introduction of the Korean Government’s “Verification of Identity” policy, which aimed to foster a more responsible Internet culture by mandating registration of a user’s real identity before allowing them to post to online message boards. The authors find that although arguments about restrictions on freedom of expression continue, the policy has maintained public support in Korea.

A different theoretical approach to another controversy topic is offered by Sameer Hinduja, who applies Actor-Network Theory (ANT) to the phenomenon of music piracy, arguing that we should pay attention not only to the social aspects, but also to the technical, economic, political, organizational, and contextual aspects of piracy. He argues that each of these components merits attention and response by law enforcers if progress is to be made in understanding and responding to digital piracy.

GOVERNMENT: While many governments have been lauded for their success in the online delivery of services, fewer have been successful in employing the Internet for more democratic purposes. Tamara A. Small asks whether the Canadian government — with its well-established e-government strategy — fits the pattern of service delivery oriented (rather than democracy oriented) e-government. Based on a content analysis of Government of Canada tweets, she finds that they do indeed tend to focus on service delivery, and shows how nominal a commitment the Canadian government has made to the more interactive and conversational qualities of Twitter.

While political scientists have greatly benefitted from the increasing availability of online legislative data, data collections and search capabilities are not comprehensive, nor are they comparable across the different U.S. states. David L. Leal, Taofang Huang, Byung-Jae Lee, and Jill Strube review the availability and limitations of state online legislative resources in facilitating political research. They discuss levels of capacity and access, note changes over time, and note that their usability index could potentially be used as an independent variable for researchers seeking to measure the transparency of state legislatures.

RERESENTATION: An ongoing theme in the study of elected representatives is how they present themselves to their constituents in order to enhance their re-election prospects. Royce Koop and Alex Marland compare presentation of self by Canadian Members of Parliament on parliamentary websites and in the older medium of parliamentary newsletters. They find that MPs are likely to present themselves as outsiders on their websites, that this differs from patterns observed in newsletters, and that party affiliation plays an important role in shaping self-presentation online.

Many strategic, structural and individual factors can explain the use of online campaigning in elections; based on candidate surveys, Julia Metag and Frank Marcinkowski show that strategic and structural variables, such as party membership or the perceived share of indecisive voters, do most to explain online campaigning. Internet-related perceptions are explanatory in a few cases; if candidates think that other candidates campaign online they feel obliged to use online media during the election campaign.

ACTIVISM: Mainstream opinion at the time of the protests of the “Arab Spring” – and the earlier Iranian “Twitter Revolution” – was that use of social media would significantly affect the outcome of revolutionary collective action. Throughout the Libyan Civil War, Twitter users took the initiative to collect and process data for use in the rebellion against the Qadhafi regime, including map overlays depicting the situation on the ground. In an exploratory case study on crisis mapping of intelligence information, Steve Stottlemyre and Sonia Stottlemyre investigate whether the information collected and disseminated by Twitter users during the Libyan civil war met the minimum requirements to be considered tactical military intelligence.

Philipp S. Mueller and Sophie van Huellen focus on the 2009 post-election protests in Teheran in their analysis of the effect of many-to-many media on power structures in society. They offer two analytical approaches as possible ways to frame the complex interplay of media and revolutionary politics. While social media raised international awareness by transforming the agenda-setting process of the Western mass media, the authors conclude that, given the inability of protesters to overthrow the regime, a change in the “media-scape” does not automatically imply a changed “power-scape.”

A different theoretical approach is offered by Mark K. McBeth, Elizabeth A. Shanahan, Molly C. Arrandale Anderson, and Barbara Rose, who look at how interest groups increasingly turn to new media such as YouTube as tools for indirect lobbying, allowing them to enter into and have influence on public policy debates through wide dissemination of their policy preferences. They explore the use of policy narratives in new media, using a Narrative Policy Framework to analyze YouTube videos posted by the Buffalo Field Campaign, an environmental activist group.