Four years ago, Stacy Snyder, then a 25-year-old teacher in training at
Conestoga Valley High School in Lancaster, Pa., posted a photo on her MySpace
page that showed her at a party wearing a pirate hat and drinking from a
plastic cup, with the caption “Drunken Pirate.” After discovering the
page, her supervisor at the high school told her the photo was
“unprofessional,” and the dean of Millersville University School of
Education, where Snyder was enrolled, said she was promoting drinking in
virtual view of her under-age students. As a result, days before
Snyder’s scheduled graduation, the university denied her a teaching
degree. Snyder sued, arguing that the university had violated her First
Amendment rights by penalizing her for her (perfectly legal) after-hours
behavior. But in 2008, a federal district judge rejected the claim,
saying that because Snyder was a public employee whose photo didn’t
relate to matters of public concern, her “Drunken Pirate” post was not
protected speech.
When historians of the future look back on the perils of the early
digital age, Stacy Snyder may well be an icon. The problem she faced is
only one example of a challenge that, in big and small ways, is
confronting millions of people around the globe: how best to live our
lives in a world where the Internet records everything and forgets
nothing — where every online photo, status update, Twitter
post and blog entry by and about us can be stored forever. With Web
sites like LOL Facebook Moments, which collects and shares embarrassing
personal revelations from Facebook users, ill-advised photos and online
chatter are coming back to haunt people months or years after the fact.
Examples are proliferating daily: there was the 16-year-old British girl
who was fired from her office job for complaining on Facebook, “I’m so
totally bored!!”; there was the 66-year-old Canadian psychotherapist who
tried to enter the United States but was turned away at the border —
and barred permanently from visiting the country — after a border
guard’s Internet search found that the therapist had written an article
in a philosophy journal describing his experiments 30 years ago with
L.S.D.
According to a recent survey by Microsoft,
75 percent of U.S. recruiters and human-resource professionals report
that their companies require them to do online research about
candidates, and many use a range of sites when scrutinizing applicants —
including search engines, social-networking sites, photo- and
video-sharing sites, personal Web sites and blogs, Twitter and
online-gaming sites. Seventy percent of U.S. recruiters report that they
have rejected candidates because of information found online, like
photos and discussion-board conversations and membership in
controversial groups.
Technological advances, of course, have often presented new threats to
privacy. In 1890, in perhaps the most famous article on privacy ever
written, Samuel Warren and Louis Brandeis complained that because of new
technology — like the Kodak
camera and the tabloid press — “gossip is no longer the resource of the
idle and of the vicious but has become a trade.” But the mild society
gossip of the Gilded Age pales before the volume of revelations
contained in the photos, video and chatter on social-media sites and
elsewhere across the Internet. Facebook, which surpassed MySpace in 2008
as the largest social-networking site, now has nearly 500 million
members, or 22 percent of all Internet users, who spend more than 500
billion minutes a month on the site. Facebook users share more than 25
billion pieces of content each month (including news stories, blog posts
and photos), and the average user creates 70 pieces of content a month.
There are more than 100 million registered Twitter users, and the Library of Congress
recently announced that it will be acquiring — and permanently storing —
the entire archive of public Twitter posts since 2006.
In Brandeis’s day — and until recently, in ours — you had to be a
celebrity to be gossiped about in public: today all of us are learning
to expect the scrutiny that used to be reserved for the famous and the
infamous. A 26-year-old Manhattan woman told The New York Times that she
was afraid of being tagged in online photos because it might reveal
that she wears only two outfits when out on the town — a Lynyrd Skynyrd T-shirt or a basic black dress. “You have movie-star issues,” she said, “and you’re just a person.”
We’ve known for years that the Web allows for unprecedented voyeurism,
exhibitionism and inadvertent indiscretion, but we are only beginning to
understand the costs of an age in which so much of what we say, and of
what others say about us, goes into our permanent — and public — digital
files. The fact that the Internet never seems to forget is threatening,
at an almost existential level, our ability to control our identities;
to preserve the option of reinventing ourselves and starting anew; to
overcome our checkered pasts.