Silence is Punishment

A strange, unforgettable book festival

I love British book festivals; they feel open-minded, democratic, curious and full of people who like thinking. The festivals are also a deep confirmation of the power of words.

But this year’s Hay Festival was different.

As ever, I came to speak—but also to listen. After my own session, I was eager to hear Sarah Wynn-Williams talk about Careless People, her devastating account of working at Facebook, . Delayed by my book signing, I slipped in late. On stage were Carol Cadwalladr (who broke the story of Facebook’s and Cambridge Analytica’s scandal) Timothy Wu (talking about his book The Age of Extraction) and, between them, Sarah Wynn-Williams. Wu was talking as I came in; Wynn-Williams said nothing. As time passed, she continued to say nothing. At first I wondered if Wu was hogging the stage but then I twigged.

Wynn-Williams was not allowed to speak.

She sat through the hour long session expressionless. Not a confirming nod. Not a smile. No gesture of disagreement.

Gagged.

It was painful to watch a woman, centre stage, with no affect, sitting silent as though tied to her chair while we watched, distant witnesses of cruelty.

I later learned that the session had begun with an announcement saying that due to the ongoing legal wrangle between Wynn-Williams and Facebook, the book could not be sold at Hay, and Wynn-Williams’s lawyers had advised her to remain silent. Neither she nor her lawyer could say anything that might appear to promote the book without risking a $50,000 fine. The threat knows no territorial boundaries.

Her silence spoke volumes. Everyone else was free to talk about the abuse of users by Mark Zuckerberg, Sheryl Sandberg and their lieutenants—and their abuse of women. Carole Cadwalladr, all too familiar with the brutality of corporate law deployed against investigative journalism, could explain “we are now in crazy land: dominated by foreign titans.” Timothy Wu spoke with restrained rage about the degree to which the British politician, Nick Clegg, had been hired by Facebook to clean up after the Cambridge Analytica scandal. Janitor Clegg (millions of dollars richer for his labours) is now bizarrely enlisted to write about technology for The Observer, one of the U.K.’s ostensibly leading newspapers. It was left to Wu too to describe the harassment to which Wynn-Williams had been subjected and to describe the tech industry now as monopolists taking the most from people at their weakest. All the while, Wynn-Williams sat mute, the ultimate exhibit of a new reality.

And this wasn’t happening in Russia. Or China. Or Iran. But in the UK. At a book festival. In a country famous for its rhetorical defence of human rights and liberty. Where we imagine we are free.

At the end of the session, this brave, silent woman received a cheering standing ovation from her audience, our own small act of resistance. But it was left to Timothy Wu to encapsulate what we had just witnessed.

“There’s some irony in a former colonial palace itself becoming colonized. Maybe it’s inconceivable to people in Great Britain that they can be colonized,” he said. “But don’t you realize this is like being invited to a party, only to realize you’re being invited only to serve the drinks?”

If You Want to Go Deeper

Read Careless People in which Wynn-Williams described with ruthless candour her transition from believer to evangelist to sceptic to apostate. You have to admire her honest self-reflection and the world she describes will surprise you. I’m surprised when people still look amazed when I say I don’t use Meta products.

For the Love of It

I was in Perugia last week, as delighted as ever by the beautiful and witty wall art that has become a hallmark of medieval villages, proving (if proof were needed) how very adaptable these gorgeous places are.