There was predicable dismay, but I suspect not all that much surprise, when we learned that the "Gay Girl in Damascus" was, in fact, a married, middle-aged American man living in Scotland. To the sceptics who did the digging that led to the disclosure, "Amina" seemed too good to be true, and she was.
The hoax has also generated some predictable commentary and fallout. Online and in traditional media, we are asking each other questions about identity, anonymity and journalistic integrity. But are we coming up with the right answers?
The last of those first: embarrassment has been the order of the day in some major media circles. The Guardian is among several organisations to have been taken in by the Amina hoax. Beyond the column by its readers' editor, I assume the case is leading to some major soul-searching, as it should.
It's not as though this is a new phenomenon. When journalists interview bystanders on the streets, they rarely if ever ask for identification to prove that the person they're quoting actually has that name; a South Carolina newspaper once quoted a gentleman whose name, he said, was Heywood Jablome (say it out loud).
Social media has upped the ante. It is a rich source of information and eyewitness accounts. "Understanding a revolution through individual stories is always imperfect – the details of an individual life can't completely represent the whole – but they allow us to connect to stories in a deep, elemental way," wrote net researcher Ethan Zuckerman (a friend and colleague) in a blog post that is essential reading for understanding this situation.
Social media is a minefield for the unwary. Some things demand vetting if not outright verification, because the risk is to be an utter dupe. The BBC has especially sound practices in this regard, but it, too, was fooled.
It's worth noting that traditional and new media organisations were instrumental in unmasking the falsity of the "gay girl" blog. Among others, National Public Radio's Andy Carvin asked his Twitter audience for help, and got plenty, while the Washington Post did its own digging into the matter; meanwhile, the Electronic Intifada website pieced together some evidence as well – and all kinds of people with no media affiliations contributed what they knew, learned or surmised.
The hoax has led to some soul-searching, too, in the human-rights community. It undermined the cause the blogger claimed to support, because it cast doubt on others who want to speak out in relative safety. Sounding real is not the same as being real. The fake Amina's blog was especially well done, with details that sounded authentic even to native Syrians. Its unmasked author said he was telling larger truths, but we have a name for this technique: fiction.
We also have a name for the technique of identity in this case: pseudonym. This is a much-used method online – not revealing one's own name but having a consistent identifier. It's one step away from outright anonymity, where there is no accountability whatever. As I wrote last week, the lack of accountability in such cases puts more responsibility on the audience. It is up to us to cultivate an abiding distrust for speech when the speaker refuses to stand behind his or her own words – that is, by using one's own name.
We should temper that scepticism, however, with the recognition that in places like Syria, where vicious dictators are ordering wholesale killings of dissidents and rebels, standing directly behind one's own words can be literally life-threatening. It is less physically dangerous to be a corporate or government whistleblower even in a more free society, but the loss of employment or freedom is a harsh deterrent. Fear of disclosure also leads people with unpopular diseases, especially in America where losing health insurance puts a citizen just a step away from bankruptcy, to use pseudonyms or be entirely anonymous.
So, it is essential to preserve anonymity (in special circumstances), even if we discourage it, while simultaneously improving trust. A conversation has emerged around the possible creation of a system – a tangent off the WikiLeaks method – by which a dissident or whistleblower could, in effect, register as a "real person" by telling a trusted third party or parties who would verify that the speaker was real and knowledgeable. The risks of such a system, not least the security of the information, are daunting. But the idea is intriguing.
What we should all fear is what too many in power want to see: the end of anonymity entirely. Governments, in particular, absolutely loathe the idea that people can speak without being identified. It will always be possible to create and disseminate anonymous speech with adept use of technology, but governments and their corporate handmaidens are working hard to make it much more difficult – and I fear there will soon be widespread laws disallowing anonymous speech, even in America. We should not allow them to succeed.
