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Kiddie
Porn and Cyberpredators
The Halloween tales were forerunners of what grew into a media staple
of the last quarter of the twentieth century: crime stories in which
innocent children fall victim to seemingly innocuous adults who are
really perverts. The villains take several familiar forms, two of the
more common being the child pornographer and his or her pedophile customers.
A report on NBC News in 1977 let it be known that “as many as
two million American youngsters are involved in the fast-growing, multi-million
dollar child-pornography business”-a statement that subsequent
research by criminologists and law enforcement authorities determined
to be wrong on every count. Kiddie porn probably grossed less than $1
million a year (in contrast to the multibillion dollar adult industry),
and hundreds, not millions, of American children were involved. Once
again, facts were beside the point. The child pornographer represented,
as columnist Ellen Goodman observed at the time, an “unequivocal
villain” whom reporters and readers found “refreshingly
uncomplicated.” Unlike other pornographers, whose exploits raise
tricky First Amendment issues, child pornographers made for good, simple,
attention-grabbing copy.
A conspicuous subtext in coverage during the late 1970s and 1980s was
adult guilt and anxiety about the increasing tendency to turn over more
of children’s care to strangers. Raymond Buckey and Peggy Buckey
McMartin, proprietors of the McMartin Preschool in Manhattan Beach,
California, were the most famous alleged child pornographers of the
era. Their prosecution in the mid-1980s attracted a level of media hoopla
unsurpassed until O. J. Simpson’s double-murder trial nearly a
decade later, and from the start they were depicted as pedophiles and
child pornographers. The local TV news reporter who first broke the
McMartin story declared in his initial report that children had been
“made to appear in pornographic films while in the preschool’s
care.” The media later quoted officials from the district attorney’s
office, making statements about “millions of child pornography
photographs and films” at the school.
Not a single pornographic photograph taken at the McMartin School has
ever been produced, despite handsome offers of reward money and vast
international police investigations. Yet thanks to the media coverage,
when social scientists from Duke University conducted a survey in 1986,
four out of five people said they believed that Raymond Buckey was part
of a child pornography ring.
In more recent years child pornographers and pedophiles have come in
handy for fear mongering about the latest variety of baby-sitter: the
Internet. In the 1990s politicians and the news media have made much
of the existence of pedophilia in cyberspace. Speaking in 1998 on behalf
of legislation he drafted that makes it easier to convict “cyberpredators”
and imprison them longer, Representative Bill McCollum of Florida made
the customary claim: “Sex offenders who prey on children no longer
need to hang out in parks or malls or school yards.” Nowadays,
warned McCollum, child pornographers and pedophiles are just “a
mouse click away” from their young prey.
This time the panic did not rely so much on suspicious statistics as
on peculiar logic. With few cases of youngsters having been photographed
or attacked by people who located them on-line, fear mongers found it
more convenient simply to presume that “as the number of children
who use the Internet continues to boom . . . pornography and pedophilia
grow along with it” (New York Times). Reporters portrayed the
inhabitants of cyberspace, children and adults alike, in somewhat contradictory
ways. About the kids they said, on the one hand, “Internet-savvy
children can also easily access on-line pornography” (New York
Times). On the other hand, reporters depicted computer-proficient kids
as precisely the opposite of savvy. They described them as defenseless
against pedophiles and child pornographers in cyberspace. “Depraved
people are reaching right into your home and touching your child,”
Hugh Downs told viewers of ABC’s “20/20.”
To judge from reports by some of the people featured in news reports,
cyberspace was largely devoid of other adults who could protect children
from these creeps. The Internet is “a city with no cops,”
the New York Times quoted a district attorney from Suffolk County, even
though law enforcement officials actually do a great deal of lurking
and entrapping. Since 1993 the FBI has conducted an operation codenamed
“Innocent Images” in which agents assume false identities
and post seductive messages on the Internet and on-line services. In
one of the more highly publicized busts that resulted from the operation,
a thirty-one-year-old Washington, D.C., attorney was arrested when he
showed up at a shopping mall to meet a fourteen-year-old girl whom he
had propositioned on-line for sex. In reality he had been corresponding
with an adult FBI agent who had assumed a provocative on-line name-“One4fun4u”-and
had sent the man messages stating that she’d had experience with
an older man and “it was a lot of fun.” In another arrest,
a fifty-eight-year-old man was snagged by agents who used the names
“Horny15bi” and “Sexcollctr” and described themselves
on-line as “dreaming of kinky sex.” One of them gave as
her motto, “vice is nice but incest is best.”
Cyberspace has been policed by other adults as well. Reporters for
newspapers and television stations, posing as young teens or preteens,
have responded to solicitations for sex, only to arrive at the agreed-on
meeting place with cameras and cops in tow. Groups with names like “Cyber
Angels” and “Safeguarding Our Children” collect information
on pedophiles via e-mail from children who say they have been approached
or molested. Members of adult vigilante groups make it a practice to
disrupt Internet chat rooms where child pornography is traded and pass
along information to police.
While judicial experts continue to debate which of these intervention
strategies constitute entrapment or invasion of privacy, there is an
extralegal question as well. David L. Sobel, an attorney with the Electronic
Privacy Information Center, framed the question succinctly. “Are
we making the world a better place,” he asked rhetorically, “by
tempting some of these people to commit crimes they may not have otherwise
committed?”
Subtract from the battery of accounts in news stories all instances
where the “children” lured out of cyberspace were actually
undercover adults, and what remains? Several of the most widely covered
incidents involving real children turn out to be considerably more ambiguous
than they seem on first hearing. Take for instance the murder of eleven-year-old
Eddie Werner in a suburb in New Jersey in 1997. Defined in the media
as the work of a “Cyber Psycho” (New York Post headline)
and proof that the Internet is, as an advocacy group put it, “a
playground for pedophiles,” the killing actually bore only a tertiary
connection to the Net. Eddie Werner had not been lured on-line. He was
killed while selling holiday items door to door for the local PTA. Reporters
and activists made the link to the Internet by way of Werner’s
killer, Sam Manzie, a fifteen-year-old who had been having sex in motel
rooms throughout the previous year with a middle-aged man he had met
in a chat room.
In an essay critical of the reporting about the Werner murder Newsweek
writer Steven Levy correctly pointed out: “Cyberspace may not
be totally benign, but in some respects it has it all over the often
overrated real world. After all, one could argue, if young Eddie Werner
had been selling his candy and gift-wrapping paper on the Internet,
and not door to door, tragedy might not have struck.”
In that same vein, consider a suspenseful yarn that took up much of
the space in a front-page piece in the Los Angeles Times entitled “Youngsters
Falling Prey to Seducers in Computer Web Crime.” It was about
a fifteen-year-old whose parents found him missing. Using the boy’s
America Online account, they discovered that he had been sent a bus
ticket to visit a man with whom he had communicated by e-mail. The parents
frantically sent messages of their own to the man. “Daniel is
a virgin,” one of the parents’ outgoing messages said. “Oh,
no, he’s not,” came back the chilling reply. Yet when the
reporter gets to the conclusion of Daniel’s saga it’s something
of an anticlimax. The teenager returned home and informed his parents
he had not been harmed by his e-mail companion, who was only a little
older than Daniel himself. Nonetheless, the moral of Daniel’s
story was, according to the Los Angeles Times reporter: “Such
are the frightening new frontiers of cyberspace, a place where the child
thought safely tucked away in his or her own room may be in greater
danger than anyone could imagine.”
Now there’s a misleading message. For those children most at
risk of sexual abuse, to be left alone in their rooms with a computer
would be a godsend. It is poor children-few of whom have America
Online connections-who are disproportionately abused, and it is
in children’s own homes and those of close relatives that sexual
abuse commonly occurs. In focusing on creeps in cyberspace, reporters
neatly skirt these vital facts and the discomforting issues they raise.
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