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  <front>
    <journal-meta />
    <article-meta>
      <title-group>
        <article-title>Hopes in Automated Abuse Detection</article-title>
      </title-group>
      <contrib-group>
        <contrib contrib-type="author">
          <string-name>Tracie Farrell</string-name>
          <email>tracie.farrell@open.ac.uk</email>
          <xref ref-type="aff" rid="aff0">0</xref>
        </contrib>
        <contrib contrib-type="author">
          <string-name>Soraya Kouadri Mostéfaoui</string-name>
          <email>soraya.kouadri@open.ac.uk</email>
          <xref ref-type="aff" rid="aff1">1</xref>
        </contrib>
        <aff id="aff0">
          <label>0</label>
          <institution>Knowledge Media Institute (KMi), Open University (OU)</institution>
          ,
          <addr-line>Walton Hall, Milton Keynes, MK67AA</addr-line>
        </aff>
        <aff id="aff1">
          <label>1</label>
          <institution>School of Computing and Communications (C&amp;C), Open University (OU)</institution>
          ,
          <addr-line>Walton Hall, Milton Keynes, MK67AA</addr-line>
        </aff>
      </contrib-group>
      <pub-date>
        <year>2023</year>
      </pub-date>
      <fpage>26</fpage>
      <lpage>27</lpage>
      <abstract>
        <p>The idea of a protected characteristic is supposedly based on the evidence of discrimination against a group of people associated with that characteristic or a combination of those characteristics. However, this determination is political and evolves over time as existing forms of discrimination are recognised and new forms emerge. All the while, these notions are also rooted in colonial practices and legacies of colonialism that create and re-create injustice and discrimination against those same “protected” groups. Automated hate-speech detection software is based typically on those political definitions of hate, which are then codified in law. Moreover, the law tends to focus on ethnicity), rather than specific characteristics that are particularly targeted by discrimination and hate (being a woman, being Indigenous, Black, Asian, etc.). In this paper, we explore some of the implications of this for hate speech detection, particularly that supported with Artificial Intelligence (AI), and for groups that experience a significant amount of prejudicial hate online.</p>
      </abstract>
      <kwd-group>
        <kwd>hate speech detection</kwd>
        <kwd>protected characteristics</kwd>
        <kwd>colonialism</kwd>
        <kwd>artificial intelligence</kwd>
        <kwd>social justice</kwd>
      </kwd-group>
    </article-meta>
  </front>
  <body>
    <sec id="sec-1">
      <title>1. Introduction</title>
      <p>The basis for protecting vulnerable groups has shifted across communities and time. In some
cases, the need for protection originates in a general concept of dignity for living things and
balance within society and nature. In others, religious or political ideologies circumscribe the
diferent groups and things that are “worthy” of our protection. In all cases, legislation is not
value neutral. It is designed, written approved and supported, typically, by certain powerful
groups of people, which inherently reflects societal biases (political-economy, gender, cultural,
racial, etc.). For many modern states, protection for certain vulnerable groups has largely been
legislated through anti-discrimination and human rights frameworks, the eficacy of which is
debatable in matters of justice.</p>
      <p>Most states and regional bodies have attempted to govern the digital world similarly,
identifying groups that are vulnerable online and attempting to legislate for their protection. This has
involved using computational approaches for identifying, limiting, and in some cases prohibiting
certain activities online. Hate-speech is one of the activities that many governments seek to
limit, for various reasons and motivations that are not always transparent.</p>
      <p>In this paper, we reflect on hate-speech detection algorithms from a socio-political and
decolonial perspective, to understand how this particular use of artificial intelligence (AI) and
the assumptions on which it is based impact, and in some cases perpetuate, inequality and social
justice. Many existing works have covered this subject from the perspective of Fair, Accountable,
Transparent and Explainable AI. In this paper, we wish to focus on the origins of hate-speech
laws and some of the sociological challenges that have been carried over from the colonial,
legislative perspective on hate into the technical implementation of hate-speech detection. In
particular, we focus on (mis)perceptions of the “symmetry of equality”, which is apparent in
many anti-discrimination frameworks, and how this impacts privilege in online spaces, the
suppression of discourse within and between marginalised groups, and the inadequacy of
hate-speech identification relative to groups with many intersecting characteristics that lead to
discrimination and disadvantage.</p>
    </sec>
    <sec id="sec-2">
      <title>2. Protected characteristics</title>
      <p>
        A protected characteristic can be described typically as a definable characteristic that has been
evidenced as leading to specific forms of vulnerability or discrimination in society. The law
then provides special consideration or provisions pertaining to the treatment of individuals
holding one or more of these characteristics. While it may appear that governing the treatment
of groups with certain characteristics may seem like the most challenging task, defining such
characteristics and evidencing them is problematic as well [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref1">1</xref>
        ]. The UK’s Equality Act and most
other anti-discrimination legal frameworks focus on what is called a “grounds-based” approach
in which a larger category, such as gender, ethnicity or religion is viewed as the grounds upon
which a person might be discriminated, rather than highlighting specific groups (e.g. women,
people of a minority ethnicity in the country where they live) in need of protection. While
this may have made anti-discrimination legislation more pragmatic and palatable to those who
might have otherwise rejected it, it may not reflect the lived experience of those most often
targeted by discrimination (ibid.). The idea of “symmetry” in the grounds that produce inequality
creates challenges. There may be groups that are largely not discriminated against, but can use
anti-discrimination legal frameworks to receive protection. There will also be groups within
society that are vulnerable to discrimination, but not protected specifically under hate speech
laws. This includes vulnerable groups, such as asylum seekers or sex workers, whose actions are
politicised as undesirable and even threatening to the public, as well as those that are uniquely
discriminated in ways that are inscrutable to the hegemonic culture for holding more than one
protected characteristic (the concept of intersectionality [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref2">2</xref>
        ]).
      </p>
    </sec>
    <sec id="sec-3">
      <title>3. Origins of hate-speech legislation</title>
      <p>
        An additionally tricky subject is that of how societies have come to legislate against certain
types of speech in democracies, particularly in Europe. “Freedom of expression” or “free speech”
is a value expressed by many modern democracies as a desirable feature of a democratic society.
The decision of how far this extends, and to whom it extends, has been hotly debated. In the
development of the non-binding Universal Declaration for Human Rights post-World War II, for
example, the allied governments discussed the potential limitations of speech in the interests of
national security, preventing intolerance and violence toward certain groups. One argument
(championed primarily by then Soviet-aligned states) was that all nations had a duty to prevent
any future resurgence of fascism by preventing open, public hate-speech, particularly against
diferent religious or peripheralised ethnic groups. There were concerns, primarily from the
US, the UK, that governments could overreach and exploit laws that limit or prohibit certain
types of speech in ways that suppress the public [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref3">3</xref>
        ]. In this instance, the prohibition of hate
speech wasn’t adopted. However, the binding International Covenant on Civil and Political
Rights1 adopted in 1966 does include an article (Article 20) that addresses the prohibition of
“advocacy of national, racial or religious hatred that constitutes incitement to discrimination,
hostility or violence” and “propaganda for war”. This and the International Convention for the
Elimination of all Racial Discrimination (which had provisions to criminalise speech that incites
ethnicity-based violence) were created within the context of colonial breakdown, apartheid in
South Africa and continuing antisemitism in post-war Germany. It may have been easier to
make arguments in favour of limiting speech in that context. We certainly have many modern
examples where amplification of hateful speech has led to serious physical violence, loss of life
and oppression, such as the 1994 genocide in Rwanda [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref4">4</xref>
        ] and Bosnian War of 1992-1995 [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref5">5</xref>
        ].
      </p>
      <p>
        However, to be defined as hate-speech that should be prohibited, many nations have a
politically defined set of criteria (such as intent to persecute, posing serious threat to life or
inciting crimes against humanity) that set the bar for intervention [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref6">6</xref>
        ]. This requires both
evidence to support one’s claim and an interpretation of the evidence that will be able to
convince anyone passing judgement on whether or not the criteria have been met. That would
be challenging, for example, for a globally excluded population to do. Those who have little to
no representation in government, even within democratic nations, will not have a role in setting
those criteria or evaluating whether or not they have been met. This means that from the start,
limiting speech already has the potential to create inequality at the same time as attempting
to mitigate it. Indeed, it is crucial to understand how such power dynamics manifest across
diferent groups, and the patterns that emerge.
      </p>
    </sec>
    <sec id="sec-4">
      <title>4. The uselessness of legislating against inequality</title>
      <p>
        Specific laws and regulations governing the treatment of individuals with certain characteristics
can be found in many ancient civilisations. The Code of Hammurabi and the Laws of
Eshnunna, both from the ancient Mesopotamia region, for example, included provisions around the
treatment of people who were enslaved, women, orphans and abandoned children, and those
considered “foreigners” [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref7">7</xref>
        ]. In many early societies, some of these laws ultimately protected
the interests of those who were subjecting vulnerable people. Laws that governed the treatment
of enslaved people were more likely related to protecting the interests of enslavers, for example.
Laws that prevented sexual assault of women most likely protected the interests of husbands
and fathers. It is important to recognise this history of protecting one group of people to protect
the commercial and personal interests of a diferent group of people.
      </p>
      <p>
        In other cases, early laws were an extension of religious values to protect certain vulnerable
1https://www.ohchr.org/en/instruments-mechanisms/instruments/international-covenant-civil-and-political-rights
groups or, for example, to remain open and hospitable to strangers. The extent to which religious
values still influence our concepts of vulnerability and protection is unclear. One can see this in
equality laws and frameworks related to the protection of LGBTQAI+ communities, or religious
minorities (within the regions they live) [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref8">8</xref>
        ].
      </p>
      <p>
        The basis for modern hate-speech detection algorithms are typically legal statues, such as
the Equality Act in the United Kingdom2 or South Africa3, the EU Charter of Fundamental
Rights4, that relate to certain “protected characteristics”, such as gender, ethnicity, or religious
belief. The fact that the internet would be governed by individual nation state’s notions of
hate speech is already problematic, but in addition, these initiatives are not developed typically
through “bottom-up” engagement with impacted communities or civic participation. Rather,
they are derived typically from the moral obligations of single religious and economic traditions
or political ideologies, and reinforced by the influence of powerful actors in private and public
spheres [
        <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref9">9</xref>
        ]. As such, they may be viewed as reflecting the existing power asymmetry within
the societies in which they emerge, even as they may appear democratic and even universal.
      </p>
      <sec id="sec-4-1">
        <title>4.1. Limiting hate-speech online</title>
        <p>
          In online spaces, the discourse on regulating speech has continued and the nature of the Internet
has presented some challenges to the previously discussed state-defined models of hateful
speech [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref10">10</xref>
          ]. Governments now liaise with companies to ensure that online content viewed
by their constituents meets their political and legal standards. This new “technocolonialism”
[
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref11">11</xref>
          ] is heavily influencing both public discourse and the web, with limited oversight. The
2016 European Union (EU) Code of Conduct on countering illegal hate speech online, with
(then) Facebook, Microsoft, Twitter and YouTube 5 set out a set of commitments expected from
social media platforms to address illegal hate speech, defined under the Framework Decision
2008/913/JHA. This decision prohibited the public incitement to “violence or hatred directed
against a group of persons or a member of such a group defined by reference to race, colour,
religion, descent or national or ethnic origin”6. Under the Code of Conduct, companies have to
demonstrate to the EU how they identify and remove illegal hate-speech in a timely fashion
(in some cases 24 hours), their processes for reviewing these practices, and the mechanisms
through which platforms can be notified of illegal hate speech. This Code of Conduct is updated
periodically, obtaining new commitments from emerging and established social media platforms.
There is still tension around regulating hate-speech outside of national or regional territories.
The US, for example, has frustrated attempts at multilateral approaches to regulating
hatespeech through its commitment to free speech [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref10">10</xref>
          ]. Hate speech that originates in the US and
has an impact elsewhere also goes unregulated.
        </p>
        <p>
          Ultimately many decisions around what content to moderate and how to intervene is left
with companies to decide [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref12">12</xref>
          ].Social Media Platforms and Internet Service Providers have their
2https://www.equalityhumanrights.com/en/equality-act-2010/what-equality-act
3https://www.gov.za/documents/promotion-equality-and-prevention-unfair-discrimination-act
4https://eur-lex.europa.eu/legal-content/EN/TXT/?uri=CELEX:12012P/TXT
5https://commission.europa.eu/strategy-and-policy/policies/justice-and-fundamental-rights/combattingdiscrimination/racism-and-xenophobia/eu-code-conduct-countering-illegal-hate-speech-online 
6https://commission.europa.eu/document/download/551c44da-baae-4692-9e7d-52d20c04e0e2 
own codes of conduct that they can use to limit or ban certain content [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref10">10</xref>
          ]. Do companies
operating social media platforms have the cultural awareness to spot hate-speech and, if so, is
the business model of social media platforms compatible with commitments to limit extreme
content? Facebook was determined to have played a key role in the real-world violence against
Tamil and Rohingya Muslims, partially due to failures in recognising online threats appropriately
and taking decisive action [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref12">12</xref>
          ].YouTube’s recommendation algorithms have been implicated in
many diferent types of online radicalisation [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref13">13</xref>
          ], because extreme and shocking content makes
user engage [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref14">14</xref>
          ] and users are recommended through topic detection algorithms to similar
content with high engagement.
        </p>
        <p>If it were possible to identify hate-speech accurately and fairly, it might be reasonable to limit
it in online spaces that are for public consumption. However, the definition of hate-speech,
how serious threats are recognised and evidenced, and the chosen interventions are all deeply
contextual issues. Individual nations and private companies do not likely have the will or the
capabilities to address this.</p>
      </sec>
      <sec id="sec-4-2">
        <title>4.2. Challenges for Automating Hate Speech Detection</title>
        <p>To perform automated hate-speech detection, one might search for keywords or phrases, utilise
source metadata (like location or demographic information) for additional context, or deploy
the use of machine-learning classifiers to spot instances of hate-speech online. Some classifiers
make use of deep learning algorithms, such as Convolutional Neural Networks (CNNs) and
Recurrent Neural Networks (RNNs), to identify patterns and features in textual data that may
indicate hate speech.</p>
        <p>There are many challenges to hate speech detection, however, a few key challenges can be
underlined to demonstrate how hate speech detection distances us from the originally stated
goals of recognising and limiting hate speech. These are: biases inherent in static datasets
annotated by humans, the tendency toward focusing on a single characteristic at a time and
thus missing intersectional forms of hate, and a general lack of knowledge around the context
of hate.</p>
      </sec>
      <sec id="sec-4-3">
        <title>4.3. Bias in hate-speech detection datasets</title>
        <p>
          Labelled data is typically necessary to help train and/or evaluate the performance of hate speech
detection algorithms. These datasets provide a snapshot in time of how the annotators chosen
for the task perceive the data they are labelling. The examples that annotators are given may
already introduce bias for certain types or formulations of hateful speech [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref15 ref16">15, 16</xref>
          ]. Studies have
shown that annotator experience also shapes how the annotator views instances of hate [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref17 ref18">17, 18</xref>
          ],
bringing biases to the labelled dataset. This labelled data goes on to be enriched through other
processes and/or subsumed into a pipeline of detection [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref19">19, 20, 21</xref>
          ], which amplifies existing
biases. Language biases, and topic biases [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref15">15, 22, 21</xref>
          ] can be dificult to fix with technological
approaches to debiasing. For example, trying to use models based on English-language
hatespeech detection to detect hate in other languages can result in missing “language specific
taboo interjections”, such as the Spanish use of the word ‘puta’ (bitch) without a misogynistic
intention [23]. This occurs with other English-based languages and dialects as well, such as
African American Vernacular English (AAVE) [24].
        </p>
      </sec>
      <sec id="sec-4-4">
        <title>4.4. The single axis challenge</title>
        <p>
          Hate-speech detection tools also tend to focus on a single-axis (identifying a specific form of
hate based on one characteristic, such as race or gender) [25]. This disregards unique forms
of hate resulting from intersecting characteristics [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref2">2, 25, 26</xref>
          ]. Recent studies on automating
detection of misogynoir (gendered racism against Black women), for example, indicate that
many other contextual features, such as who is talking to whom and in which context, are
necessary for understanding and identifying this type of hate [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref18">27, 18</xref>
          ]. I will discuss context
more in the following subsection.
        </p>
        <p>Even deep-learning approaches that can consider multiple forms of hate at the same time
mostly look at cumulative single-axis hate. In Founta et al. [28], for example, the authors were
still relying heavily on annotated lexicons including explicitly ofensive terms related to the
single-axis grounds of race, gender, etc. In the example of misogynoir, this approach might
capture misogyny, as it is experienced by women, and racism, as it is experienced by Black
people, but it will not identify and capture the unique experience of misogynoir, for example, the
stereotype of the “angry Black woman”. The resulting erasure is the product of a grounds-based
approach.</p>
        <p>The idea that large language models (LLMs) can resolve these conflicts is still unrealistic.
Early experiments using GPT-3 to detect hate around gender and race have shown some limited
success [29], however researchers have also identified a bias toward US American values in the
outputs and decision making of GPT-3 [30]. Indeed as we have argued in the above sections,
because everything related to hate speech tends to be framed around Western values, contexts
and concerns, it is no wonder that this also perpetuates in AI (and non-AI) technological tools.</p>
      </sec>
      <sec id="sec-4-5">
        <title>4.5. Lacking Context</title>
        <p>The last challenge is context. How do we distinguish public frustration from speech that could
meet any of the original, legal definitions of hate speech? One approach is to use patterns in user
behaviour to determine intent. For example, in Founta et al. [28], if a user was regularly sending
messages that insult other users, they would be categorised as a bully [28]. In Bevendorf et al.
[31], focused on identifying the regular spreaders of hate speech, rather than single instances
of potentially hateful content.</p>
        <p>It may depend, however, on what the user is responding to. In [32], the authors analysed
abusive tweets directed at British MPs during the first four months of the COVID pandemic
in 2020. They found that preceding some spikes in abuse, there were incidents which would
have been worthy of a public outcry, such as improper handling of PPE and miscommunication
around lock-downs. That cannot be viewed as hateful speech. However, when an MP who is a
Black woman receives repeated personal attacks in response to discussing racism (part of her
regular job), that’s something diferent.</p>
        <p>
          We should note that the MP study above refers to “abuse detection” and not hate-speech
detection. There is also “toxicity detection” [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref16">16</xref>
          ], in which general forms of incivility may be
detected alongside what could be called hate-speech. To be able to fully interpret those results,
researchers must attempt to know more about the target and the person targeting that person,
to understand if there is a likely instance of hate. Still, similar biases exist in how toxic language
is identified and limited [
          <xref ref-type="bibr" rid="ref16">16</xref>
          ].
        </p>
      </sec>
      <sec id="sec-4-6">
        <title>4.6. Implications for targeted groups</title>
        <p>The most obvious impact of hate-speech detection on marginalised groups is over-surveillance,
which results in limiting their own activity online. Research indicates, for example, that Black
men are more likely to have their content labelled as toxic or abusive because of diferent
language conventions [26, 24]. Black women have also been shown to experience disproportionate
influence from content moderation, particularly when discussing racism [ ? 33]. Transgender
users have been blocked for adult content when discussing their personal experiences [33].</p>
        <p>Yes, users learn how to evade detection algorithms [34], for example, through use of
euphemistic speech [35] or neologisms [20]. However, researchers come up with new ideas to
spot evasion and the cycle continues.</p>
      </sec>
      <sec id="sec-4-7">
        <title>4.7. Other impacts on marginalised people</title>
        <p>It should be noted that content moderation approaches, even when partially automated, still
include the use of human labour to screen and remove content. This work, which has been
described as traumatising and poorly compensated [36], is often outsourced to labourers in the
Philippines and India where the moderators receive no mental health provisions or support
[37]. Once again, the legacy of colonialism looms large in the ways that undesirable labour
is outsourced to poorer communities with less global influence, so that those with relative
influence and power can see a more comforting and sanitised version of the web.</p>
      </sec>
    </sec>
    <sec id="sec-5">
      <title>5. Conclusion</title>
      <p>In this paper, we have described how the legal, political definition of hate-speech and the
protection of vulnerable populations through a grounds-based approach can lead to inequalities
through (mis)perceptions of “symmetry” without attention to power gifted by the legacy of
colonialism and caputalism. We explained how these inequalities appear in the online sphere,
through non-context aware hate and toxicity detection that limits the activities of marginalised
and peripheralised groups. Finally, we highlighted some of the unique challenges that arise
when large, powerful tech companies are in charge of how hate-speech is defined and what
speech is worthy of censure. While there is certainly a case for limiting hateful speech on social
media platforms, thecurrently deployed methods are not particularly ethical or fair in preventing
inequality for people who are marginalised. We need more transformative, empowered and
community-based solutions that involve dialogue with those truly impacted by hateful speech
online. In particular, we need to focus on impacts which translate into or are derived from
power asymmetry ofline. A continued paternalistic, and technocolonialist approach to limiting
speech online will at best resolve the whole into a box-ticking exercise and at worst exacerbate
inequality.</p>
    </sec>
    <sec id="sec-6">
      <title>Acknowledgments</title>
      <p>This work was funded by a UKRI Future Leaders Fellowship (Round Six) MR/W011336/1.
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