There was very little controversial about it. A featured blog post in the Oxford Political Review, authored by Joshua Krook, suggested that COVID-19 had brought a host of benefits for big tech companies. Isolation ushered people towards online platforms. Engagement on such platforms increased dramatically.

This even dull observation did little to specify names. Companies were not outed, though Krook noted, in general, how “big tech companies” have been “pursuing the attention economy”, seeking to get “all our attention at all times.” With COVID-19, this had been achieved. “People are trapped indoors, at home, on their devices at all times, with nowhere to go.” Krook’s tone did come across as a touch judgmental, suggesting that replacing “human connection with technology has never felt so nakedly negative.” He likened big tech entities to spouses who know “everything about you.” BY giving them information about yourself, a loss of free will is perpetrated precisely “because the person, or company, knows so much about you.”

Krook’s employer, the Australian government, was not mentioned. It took three months for Krook to get the call. The managers of the Australian Public Service took issue with the post. It might damage the government’s relationship with those working in the technology industry.

In Krook’s words to the Guardian, “the problem was that in talking about the big tech companies, we risked damaging the relationship with the government has with big tech companies and that when we go and do public-private partnerships, they could Google my name, find my article and then refuse to work with us.”

What followed was the usual pattern. Initial alarm. A request that the blog post be removed. Then, a reconsideration of matters, the growth of a backbone to resist.

As Krook explained in the Oxford Political Review, “I resigned from my job in the government because I fundamentally disagree with the decision. The Australian government should not be involved in censoring personal blog posts. Public servants should be able to criticize private companies, including big tech companies. There is no conflict of interest. Freedom of speech is fundamental to a thriving, secular democracy.”

It pays to know what creatures you are working for, and what strange armour they insist on wearing when they deal with expression. Know their values and code of conduct, because they are bound to be conversely related to what is actually intended. Ideas will only be permitted in such an ecosystem if they are expressed with respect, which usually means causing no offense to the thick and unimaginative. What is challenging is bound to be offensive; what is audaciously defying is bound to rub the dullards the wrong way.

The Australian Public Service, for instance, has a code of conduct which deals with “employees as citizens”. This has a sinister edge to it. The APS acknowledges in Section 6 of the Code that employees are citizens and members of the community but “the right to serve the community as APS employees comes with certain responsibilities.” Central to the point is a notion that has been stretched and mangled in punishing supposed transgressions by APS employees. Responsibilities, for instance, “include maintaining confidence of the community in the capacity of the APS, and each member to it, to undertake their duties professionally and impartially.” This comes terribly close to having no opinions, or at least the sort you can express.

The section further gives clues as to what an APS employee should, or should not do. Be careful making comments in an unofficial capacity (no mention of the healthy thoughts of such a person an engaged private citizen). Be wary of participating in political activities, participating in acts that might generate a conflict of interest, be cautious when working overseas and when being “identifiable as an APS employee.”

Naturally, such rubbery codes are drafted in ways that suggest openness and fairness, which repudiating them. There is, for instance, a tentative nod to the engagement of APS employees “in robust discussion … as an important part of open government.” But the lid is tightly shut on the issue of public comments, which must conform to the “APS Values, Employment Principles and the Code.” And public comments are broad indeed, covering public speech, online media including blogs and social media networking sites.

Banerji found, much to her personal cost, that tweeting critically, even anonymously, was sufficient to get her sacked. Her heroic effort to bring her conduct within the realms of Australia’s implied right to freedom of communication on political subjects was snootily dismissed by the country’s highest court. The implied right was not a personal one, merely a restraint on government power.

The Krook affair also reveals another disturbing trend. With all that froth and babble about Australian regulators keen to rein in the power of Silicon Valley, we have an object lesson about how keen the Australian government is to stay in the warming bed of big tech. Google, Facebook and other representatives will be delighted by this stinging hypocrisy.

Dr. Binoy Kampmark was a Commonwealth Scholar at Selwyn College, Cambridge. He lectures at RMIT University, Melbourne. Email: bkampmark@gmail.com

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