As the Internet evolves, people around the world have faster, easier ways to connect. Innovative plans and economic opportunities are being hatched online, but so are ideas that challenge governments. Voices of dissent are amplified by social media tools like Facebook, Twitter and YouTube, leaving some countries confused about how to balance free expression rights against perceived threats to national security and government stability.

Working with the Center for International Security and Cooperation at Stanford’s Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies, Eileen Donahoe is trying to make government officials feel more comfortable with online technology. Donahoe, the U.S. ambassador to the United Nation’s Human Rights Council, recently brought about 35 diplomats from around the world to Stanford. The group met with academics, Internet developers and technology business leaders to address the questions posed by a free and open Internet.

“I know the technology feels mysterious and challenging,” says Donahoe, who was an affiliated scholar at CISAC before becoming an ambassador. “So part of what we tried to do was demystify it. But we also conveyed the message that you’re not going to control technological change. And you’d better get used to it. It’s part of our world.”

In the following interview, Donahoe and CISAC co-director Mariano-Florentino Cuéllar discuss the challenges and potential promised in the online frontier.

Why did you arrange this meeting of diplomats in Silicon Valley?

Donahoe: Some ambassadors who are otherwise very committed to human rights have started to feel that the protections for freedom of expression and freedom of assembly could be weakened or lessened when you bring technology into the mix. There was a sense that governments could legitimately squelch free speech and free assembly when it happened in the online world. That’s a problem because so much of what happens today happens online. The Internet is now so central to the ability to speak freely. It was our responsibility to call them out and make them understand that technology should not change the equation in the protection of human rights.

How has the Internet changed the way we need to think about human rights and free expression?

Donahoe: In some ways, it hasn’t changed anything – free speech is free speech. But new technology has created new media, and that’s all changing at an exponential pace. People are being required to adjust in timeframes that were unimaginable before, and governments can’t keep up. Individuals can hardly keep up. It’s the pace and innovation that’s challenging. But there’s no change in our responsibility to protect the longstanding values of free expression.

What does a free and open Internet have to do with global security?

Cuéllar:  Some governments lack a commitment to basic rights and the rule of law. Technology can help people respond by raising their voices. They can organize and respond when their own government threatens citizens’ security.  Cyber technologies can also empower law enforcement officials, intelligence agencies and armed forces, raising fundamental questions about the role of government and the nature of conflict in the years to come. The Internet is an evolving technology that reflects vulnerability and enormous potential. Societies depend on government and private sector systems that face a variety of threats.  For all these reasons, the future of cyberspace is an important security issue at the very center of our agenda at CISAC.

Why do some governments feel threatened by the Internet?

Donahoe: It comes from the volume of voices you can have online. It comes from the pace of change. And there’s another aspect to online technology that’s intriguing: It is inherently democratizing. Citizens are becoming journalists. Anyone with a cell phone can broadcast live to the planet anything they’re observing. That can be threatening, but I believe it’s ultimately going to be a very positive force for transparency and government accountability.

How do you convince governments worried about those threats that open Internet access is ultimately in their best interest? 

Cuéllar: If the leaders of a state see it merely as a vehicle for control and stability, then much of the technology we have been discussing will appear profoundly threatening.  States seeking to build or maintain lasting institutions capable of meeting the needs of their citizens will tend to take a different approach, focused on the value of the public’s feedback and participation in governance.

Donahoe: A compelling point – especially for developing countries that may not otherwise place emphasis on the benefits to freedom from technology – is the recognition that there’s an economic upside to a free and open Internet. It can be framed as a development issue. Many government leaders can see that the future of all our economies is so intricately connected to this technology that if they try to squelch or shut down Internet development for political reasons, there will be dramatically negative effects for their economies. And that will lead to political problems. The economic value isn’t my primary human rights emphasis, but it helps to remind governments they run the risk of shutting themselves out of economic development if they don’t get comfortable with the technology.

What role, if any, should governments play in regulating the Internet?

Donahoe: Governments do need to play a role in regulation, just as they do in the offline world. But just because technology is brought into the equation doesn’t mean governments and regulators should be free to regulate too broadly or without concern for the costs to freedom. Just like in the offline world, regulation must be narrowly tailored and serve important government interests. Part of the challenge comes from the sense that governments can’t keep up with the technological advances. So they’re inclined to regulate more – and more bluntly – rather than in a more tailored way. This is where governments need to get more sophisticated about how to adjust to technological change.

What do policymakers need to know and understand before passing regulations?

Cuéllar: The future of cyberspace implicates security, economic development and the protection of civil and political rights – and all of these challenges are deeply interrelated.  A country's decision to restrict certain forms of Internet traffic can discourage economic innovation. Internet access in poor communities can lead to new economic opportunities, changing the larger context in which governance and security problems arise.  It is crucial to recognize these connections as societies think through the future of cyberspace.

Lebanon’s peculiar brand of democracy, dysfunctional and widely unpopular, is a perennial source of national vexation, debated over Sunday lunches and in the press.

Since the Taif agreement of 1989, which helped end the civil war, half of Parliament has been reserved for Christians, the other half for Muslims, with each half distributed among 11 of Lebanon’s 18 officially recognized sects (Maronite, Greek Orthodox, Protestant, Sunni, Shiite, Druze, Alawite, etc). Each of Parliament’s (pdf) 128 seats is sect-specific: only members of that sect can run for it. (Voters, however, can cast their ballot for every seat in their district regardless of their own religious affiliation.) The president must be a Maronite, the prime minister a Sunni and the speaker of Parliament a Shiite. Hundreds of bureaucratic appointments are also subject to sectarian apportionment under the Constitution.

The imposition of religious representativeness in politics is a scourge. In the best of circumstances, it is vulnerable to the demagoguery of religious leaders; in the worst, it breeds civil violence and paralyzes the government. But others fear that a more open system would not provide the guarantees of power-sharing among religious minorities that the current model entails.

In recent months, the focus of these long-standing divergences has centered on the intricacies of Lebanon’s electoral law. The next parliamentary elections are less than a year and a half away, and a loose coalition of civil society groups, independent politicians and Lebanon’s president – the former army general Michel Suleiman — has recently proposed implementing a system of proportional representation to replace the current majoritarian, or “winner-take-all,” model.

Under the existing system, a fledgling party with a small but dedicated following stands no chance of getting its candidates elected in a district where a more established party holds sway. Under proportional representation — in which seats are allocated in keeping with the share of votes collected — a small party could win some seats with a minority of votes. In addition to ensuring multiparty representation in each district, proportional representation would empower lesser-known independent candidates. Over time the newcomers could coalesce to form a bulwark against the traditional political mainstream and advance a more liberal agenda.

Predictably, most major parties have conspired to protect the status quo; they want to maintain their primacy within it. The Future Movement, the main Sunni party, worries that the Sunni allies of its Shiite archrival, Hezbollah, might encroach on its turf. Walid Jumblatt, the country’s main Druze leader, fears that he would lose votes to other Druze figures with small-time followings in his traditional stronghold, the Chouf mountains.

In a rare show of unity, the leaders of Lebanon’s main Christian parties have come together to oppose the president’s draft law. The proposed law would combine Lebanon’s small electoral districts into fewer and larger ones, which is necessary for proportional representation to work effectively. (Imagine an election between 10 different parties in a 10-seat district: if each party wins 10 percent of the overall vote, each one gets its own seat. In a two-seat district, only the top two lists win seats.) But an electoral map with  larger districts also means  larger constituencies, which in turn means that substantial numbers of Christian candidates could be voted in on the lists of non-Christian parties (like the Future Movement and Hezbollah). And that would erode the influence of the traditional Christian political elite.

And so the Christian political establishment has offered a radical counter-proposal: a law that would institute proportional representation but also require citizens to vote only for members of their own sect (Sunnis would elect Sunnis; Greek Orthodox, Greek Orthodox, etc.)

One of the many problems with this idea is that it would generate considerable inequalities of suffrage between Christians and Muslims. As is, Christians already have greater voting power than Muslims because they still occupy half of Parliament even though they now represent less than half of Lebanon’s population. Under the new proposal, this disparity in representation would be further exacerbated.

Worse is the vision of Lebanon’s political future at the heart of the Christian plan. The president’s proposal envisages a country whose citizens vote for candidates on the basis of party affiliation and political platform, not sect. The Christians’ counter-proposal imagines Lebanon as a collection of 18 insular religious communities jealously nominating their own nobility and eyeing one another with suspicion. The first model is a bold step toward dismantling political sectarianism; the second is an enormous step backward, toward greater divisiveness.

Because of its inexpediency, a substantive revision of the electoral law in time for the 2013 elections seems unlikely — despite the fact that a solid majority of Lebanese say they would prefer proportional representation to the current system. Yet if Lebanon is ever to establish a new social contract — one based on true citizenship rather than begrudging coexistence — it will need to change its electoral arithmetic.

On January 24, Madeline Rees, former U.N. high commissioner for human rights in Bosnia and secretary general for the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, spoke at the second installment of the Sanela Diana Jenkins International Speaker Series. Rees, has been working with the CDDRL Program on Human Rights to promote research on human trafficking, posed an interesting question: can extraterritorial jurisdiction — the legal ability of a government to exercise authority beyond its borders — be a tool for improving accountability for human rights abuse during peacekeeping operations?

Rees was referring to a situation that she experienced in Bosnia where peacekeepers reportedly abused, tortured and actively trafficked women and girls. She noted, however, that there have been similar situations and accusations of sexual exploitation and abuse, including sex trafficking, in U.N. missions ranging from Cambodia to Haiti to Congo since the 1990s. Rees argued that these abuses and the involvement of peacekeepers in human trafficking in particular, result from a combination of factors, which include:

• The perception of immunity (based on UN peacekeepers status)
• Impunity that results from the lack of specific legislation and enforcement mechanisms
• Lack of formal training
• Peer pressure
• Patriarchic militarized model of peacekeeping

There has been some slow progress. Rees recalled that when she first brought up the issue of human trafficking to the U.N., laughter was a common response. Her struggle, portrayed in part in the recent film The Whistleblower, has enabled an open discussion within the U.N. In 2007, the U.N. created the Department of Field Support and made some structural changes, but these reforms have not yet addressed the heart of the problem. In part, Rees believes, this is because the U.N. has lacked the political will to hold peacekeepers accountable for their actions.

 

On January 31, Roni Hong, a human trafficking survivor and founder of the Tronie Foundation presented her testimony at the third installment of the Sanela Diana Jenkins International Speaker Series. Hong dramatically recounted her personal story of being trafficked into forced labor at the young age of seven in India. She spoke of the beatings and torture she suffered and ultimately her illegal, international adoption. Her story raises the controversial issue of legal and illegal international adoption.

Hong highlighted the fact that most of the framework for advocacy for victims of human trafficking centers on sex trafficking. Citing data from the Trafficking in Persons Report, Hong explained that globally there are more victims of trafficking for labor than sexual exploitation. In the United States, hundreds of thousands of children work on farms exempt from the minimum age and maximum hour requirements that apply to all other working children. This exposes them to work at younger ages, for longer hours — often ten or more hours per day — and under hazardous conditions. They are vulnerable to the risk of pesticide poisoning, heat illness, injuries, life-long disabilities, and even death.

Through the Tronie Foundation, Hong organized a network of survivors of human trafficking. She has been interviewed by Oprah and has been a key advocate for legislation that mandates training of health providers in identifying signs of human trafficking in Washington state. Hong hopes that her work and the survivors’ network will empower victims like herself to find their voice and speak out. Hong told the audience that by bringing their voices together, victims can advocate for policies that address the causes of trafficking and advance human rights.

 

Riding around on the back of a motorcycle in 2009, Jeremy Menchik snapped photos of hundreds of Indonesian campaign posters. That number has now grown to over 5000 images, which Menchik and Colm Fox have painstakingly coded and analyzed to better understand the politics of identity in Indonesia. The initial results of their research reveal similarities between the United States and Indonesia, and shed light on the transitional democracies of the Arab Spring.

Menchik is a 2011–12 Shorenstein Fellow at Stanford University, and will take up a position as an assistant professor in international relations at Boston University in 2013.

Fox is a doctoral student at the George Washington University’s Department of Political Science.

How important is political identity in Indonesia? Why?

Indonesia is the largest Muslim-majority country in the world, and one of the most diverse. But what we found was that rather than being unique, Indonesian politicians behave remarkably similar to American politicians in using a variety of regional, religious, and ethnic identity symbols to court voters.

For example, just recently on NPR, I heard Mitt Romney and Newt Gingrich using broken Spanish to appeal to Latino voters in Florida. That is no different than candidates for mayor in northern Sumatra, who often print one poster with them wearing Islamic clothing for one neighborhood, and another poster with them wearing Batak clothing for a different neighborhood. And a third where they are draped in the Indonesian flag.

Our research suggests that despite the obvious differences between a developed, Western country like the United States, and a developing, Muslim-majority country like Indonesia, politicians often act similarly when they are trying to win elections.

What is an important factor in determining a candidate’s use of identity symbols?

What we found is that the election rules matter, a lot. Candidates are far more likely to use religious and ethnic symbols in a plurality (“winner-take-all”) system like the United States than in a proportional representation system (PR) like Indonesia. This is an important finding, because tinkering with election rules is one of the tools that international relations practitioners can use to reduce ethnic and sectarian violence. And what we are saying is that it works. Changing election rules can change the types and levels of identities that are politicized. And that is an important lesson for conflict resolution.

What are some of the most surprising results to come out of your research?

The first is how badly the dominant explanations for identity politics—modernization theory and secularization theory—fared when they were tested on a large dataset. We are at an interesting juncture in time, where our theories of religion and politics have not caught up with the way the world works.

A second surprising finding is how much electoral rules shape the use of identity symbols. Indonesia is a Muslim-majority country, but you would not know it in many of the PR elections. Having strong party backing is so crucial to winning seats in the legislature that it overrides candidates’ religious identity. This points to a similarity between a developed, consolidated Western democracy like the United States, and a developing, unconsolidated Muslim-majority country like Indonesia. The rules are really important for understanding "how politics works" in the Muslim world.

Finally, it was interesting to see the continued importance of history for understanding contemporary political behavior. Regional rebellions that happened in the 1950s continue to echo in politics today. There are certainly ways that changing electoral rules and economic development can result in a shift in political identity, but without understanding the specific Indonesian context, a lot of our results do not make sense. That is an important lesson that for understanding how people in a Muslim country vote; the regionally specific history of that country is very important.      

During last year’s Arab Spring, the ideal of democracy was celebrated throughout the world. How might your research shed light on understanding the complexities of these transitioning democracies?

Well this research has clear implications for the Arab Spring, particularly for understanding the future of Egypt. Just because religious parties like the Muslim Brotherhood or the Salafist Nour party come into office does not mean that democracy is doomed, or that religious minorities are going to suffer. As long as secular Muslims, Christians, liberals, and other groups have a stake in elections, we are likely to see cross-ethnic and cross-religious coalitions emerge. This is a very good thing. One obvious difference, however, is that we did not see a lot of overt military participation in politics in Indonesia after 1999. The military was largely absent. And that is one way that Egypt is very different from Indonesia. If there is a big threat to democracy in Egypt, it is not coming from the politicization of identity—it is coming from the suppression of the people's voice by the military.