Last week a Tyler, Texas, appellate court struck the state’s
criminal revenge porn law as fatally overbroad, so facially unconstitutional,
under the First Amendment to the federal Constitution. The ruling garnered headlines heralding the
unconstitutionality of revenge porn law, which could have big implications in privacy
law and policy nationwide—even ramifications
for U.S. foreign relations.
However, the
court’s ruling was not so broad as headlines have suggested. In fact, the court gave wise and constructive
feedback on what a revenge porn law needs to look like to pass constitutional
muster—which it can. It seems in the end
that the Texas law was just not well drafted.
Accordingly, the revenge porn laws that have proliferated in the United
States, now in 38 states (collected at Cyber Civil Rights
Initiative), should be scrutinized and, if necessary, corrected. (Constitutional problems with Vermont and Arizona
laws were mentioned just today by the U.K. Register,
here.)
The Texas case, Ex
parte Jones,
No. 12-17-00346 (Tex. Ct. App. Apr. 18, 2018), involved a criminal
information against Jones under Texas Penal
Code section 21.16(b), which criminalizes the “unlawful disclosure of
intimate visual materials.” The statute
reads:
A person commits an offense if:(1) without the effective consent of the depicted person, the person intentionally discloses visual material depicting another person with the person’s intimate parts exposed or engaged in sexual conduct;(2) the visual material was obtained by the person or created under circumstances in which the depicted person had a reasonable expectation that the visual material would remain private;(3) the disclosure of the visual material causes harm to the depicted person; and(4) the disclosure of the visual material reveals the identity of the depicted person in any manner[.]
The statute, section
21.16(a), furthermore defines “visual material” broadly (“any film,
photograph, videotape, negative, or slide or any photographic reproduction that
contains or incorporates in any manner any film, photograph, videotape,
negative, or slide,” as well as electronic transmission) and “intimate parts”
specifically (““the naked genitals, pubic area, anus, buttocks, or female
nipple of a person”).
The court’s First Amendment analysis was sound. The court applied de novo review to test the constitutionality of a criminal
statute. The court rejected a narrow
construction that would confine the law to mere obscenity, as stringently
defined by federal precedent. Because
the statute is then a content-based restriction of expressive content, the
court charged the government with the burden of rebutting presumptive
unconstitutionality. The State conceded at
oral argument that the law must survive strict scrutiny, i.e., advance a compelling
state interest and be narrowly tailored to do so. Intimate privacy passes muster on the first
prong, but the statute facially fails narrow tailoring. The court acknowledged that overbreadth
doctrine is “strong medicine”; nevertheless, the statute could not measure up.
The court illustrated the statute’s fatal flaw with a
hypothetical, unattributed so presumably original, that seems drawn from a law school or bar exam:
“Adam and Barbara are in a committed relationship. One evening, in their home, during a moment of passion, Adam asks Barbara if he can take a nude photograph of her. Barbara consents, but before Adam takes the picture, she tells him that he must not show the photograph to anyone else. Adam promises that he will never show the picture to another living soul, and takes a photograph of Barbara in front of a plain, white background with her breasts exposed.“A few months pass, and Adam and Barbara break up after Adam discovers that Barbara has had an affair. A few weeks later, Adam rediscovers the topless photo he took of Barbara. Feeling angry and betrayed, Adam emails the photo without comment to several of his friends, including Charlie. Charlie never had met Barbara and, therefore, does not recognize her. But he likes the photograph and forwards the email without comment to some of his friends, one of whom, unbeknownst to Charlie, is Barbara’s coworker, Donna. Donna recognizes Barbara and shows the picture to Barbara’s supervisor, who terminates Barbara’s employment.”
“In this scenario,” the court observed, “Adam can be charged
under Section 21.16(b), but so can Charlie and Donna.”
Therein lies the problem: not necessarily as applied to
Adam, but as applied to Charlie and Donna, who are ignorant of the
circumstances under which the photo came to be.
Certainly Charlie, who received the photo from Adam “without comment,”
might as well believe that Adam ripped the photo of a stranger from a
pornographic website. However indecent
the photo, both Charlie and Donna have a First Amendment right to communicate
the photo “downstream.” Yet without
Barbara’s consent, Charlie and Donna run afoul of the revenge porn law. Given the ease with which persons can share
visual images in the age of electronic and online communication, the court
found “alarming breadth” in this potential criminalization of expression. In First Amendment overbreadth doctrine, a facially
overbroad criminal law must be ruled unconstitutional even if it might be
constitutional as applied to the defendant before the court.
The court distilled the law’s flaws in two dimensions
related to culpability. Typically of a
criminal prohibition, the statute requires intent. But intent pertains only to the republication
of the image. The statute does not
require that the actor have “knowledge or reason to know the circumstances surrounding
the material’s creation, under which the depicted person’s reasonable
expectation of privacy arose.” Second, the
statute does not require “intent to harm the depicted person,” or even
knowledge “of the depicted person’s identity.”
Borrowing the language of civil law (meaning common law tort), one would
say that the statute requires volitional intent, but not intent to commit a wrong
or to cause an injury.
The requisite intent to survive constitutional challenge may
be likened to “actual malice,” which is used in both civil and criminal
defamation law to describe “knowledge of falsity or reckless disregard of truth
or falsity.” In the context of revenge
porn, a constitutional law might require “actual knowledge of the depicted
person’s reasonable and continuing expectation of privacy in the image, or
reckless disregard of same.” If Charlie
knew the identity of Barbara, so might infer the circumstances
under which the photo had been taken, then the State might at least allege
recklessness. Donna, who did know
Barbara’s identity, might be charged.
But she should be entitled to defend upon a qualified privilege,
borrowed again from common law defamation, to share information in the interest
of a recipient or third party when the defendant should disclose according to
general standards of decency. A
corrected statute would hold Adam accountable without a constitutional problem.
Also just last week, the Rhode Island legislature (my home
state) passed a revenge porn bill (2018-H
7452A) that has the support of the Governor Gina Raimondo (AP). Raimondo vetoed a revenge porn bill in 2016, objecting
on free speech grounds (Providence
Journal). Her position now is
bolstered by the Texas decision in Jones. Beefing up the intent requirement is precisely
one of the R.I. legislative fixes that brought the latest bill to
fruition. The Rhode Island bill requires
that the defendant intentionally disseminated, published, or sold “[w]ith
knowledge or with reckless disregard for the likelihood that the depicted
person will suffer harm, or with the intent to harass, intimidate, threaten or
coerce the depicted person.”
I still have qualms about extending the “reasonable
expectation of privacy” (REP) standard—which is drawn from Fourth Amendment
jurisprudence as a bulwark against improper state
action—being extended into the realm of private criminal or civil
liability. REP is potentially much
broader than the intimate-depiction definitions of revenge porn laws. And criminalization and civil liability are not the same. Even though criminal defamation is constitutional when qualified by actual malice, contemporary human rights norms discourage the criminalization of expression at all.
At the same time, I have argued in favor of evolving U.S.
law to recognize downstream control of private information, in consonance with both
American values in the information age and emerging global legal norms. Revenge porn laws—as against Adam, to the
exclusion of Charlie and Donna—are a modest step in that direction, which European observers will welcome of
us. We will have to remain vigilant to continue
to protect freedom of expression in tandem with expanding privacy rights,
especially in a time in which the latter at the expense of the former is the
fashion. Conscientious actors such as the Jones panel (Worthen, C.J., and Hoyle and Neeley, JJ.) and Governor Raimondo are
doing well, so far.