Austria’s cure for online hate? Therapy sessions for trolls
Is it OK to be a racist on the internet if you’re a world leader? It might very well be, Twitter implied earlier this year, according to critics’ interpretation of a blog post in which the company announced that “blocking a world leader from Twitter, or removing their controversial tweets, would hide important information people should be able to see and debate.”
Twitter’s policy may save influential politicians from having their tweets or accounts deleted, but the internet isn’t a totally lawless territory, an Austrian court reminded us last week. The same free speech rules that apply to all citizens, the court argued, also apply to politicians.
The politician they were referring to is Bruno Weber, a city councillor with Austria’s governing far-right FPO party in Amstetten, who went on a beer-fuelled online rant earlier this year. Responding to an ad showing a white man and a non-white man holding a baby, Weber made racist and homophobic comments, describing the image as “filth” and using the Austrian equivalent of the N-word. He later apologized and offered his resignation, which was not accepted by his party.
Now, an Austrian court has sent Weber to a six-month counselling program that will teach him how to behave on the internet. Officials will also examine the possible roots of Weber’s racist and homophobic thoughts — and unless he shows signs of remorse and improvement, they can send him back to court.
The FPO politician is participating in a model project that was only launched this year and has so far helped about 60 participants reflect upon their online behaviour. Working in co-ordination with Austrian courts and prosecutors, a German-Austrian association developed the counselling under the name “Dialogue Instead of Hatred,” after charges over incitement of hatred jumped from 25 back in 2006 to 827 one year ago.
Despite the significant increase in charges, courts still shied away from sentencing perpetrators in some instances, arguing that a criminal conviction would only embolden their determination.
“Once they are sentenced, many immediately start behaving like victims. They say: ‘I only voiced my opinion and now I’m being punished for that,’ ” said Andreas Zembaty, who works with the “Neustart” company, that is expected to be in charge of Weber’s counselling sessions.
If someone charged with online incitement of hatred refuses to participate, courts automatically move ahead with the sentencing.
Similar procedures already exist in several Nordic countries.
Austria’s Neustart, which predominantly deals with Islamist and rightwing extremist suspects, has been careful to avoid the political stigma any such project could quickly be accused of in a polarized country.
“We’re not a thought police force,” Zembaty said.
Instead, the company’s experts examine factors that may have triggered a suspect’s vulnerability to inciting hatred. Often, perpetrators have themselves experienced insults — episodes they need to come to terms with to understand how their own actions impact others.
“Many hurt because they have themselves been hurt,” Zembaty said.
Besides psychological counselling, the team also trains participants in respectful communication techniques and media literacy.
Neustart says that no participant had to be sent back to court after the sixmonth long training — so far.