Saturday, March 07, 2020

Don't Share This

Before you go any further, we need to come to an understanding. First, no sharing any of my good lines. Second, if you don't find any good lines, don't share that either. If fact, no sharing any criticisms at all: if you don't like this, keep it to yourself. If you break this ironclad pact, for the pain and suffering you will cause me, be prepared to fork over $5 million cash, your tickets to "Hamilton" and a year's supply of peanut butter cups. If you agree, please go on; if not, stop right now. That work for you? Because that's the NDA I want you to sign before we continue. 

Non-Disclosure Agreements are all the rage. While they have no clear origin story, according to Michelle Dean writing in the Columbia Journalism Review, they first started to appear in the 1940's in the context of maritime law. Later, tech firms like IBM began to use them. And to most it made sense: these companies were inventing novel ways of doing things based on ideas that were easily transportable. By extension, this line of thinking covered not just tech companies but any firm inventing a new approach, whether it be a better way to make a candy bar or car brakes or pants pockets. It was a way of protecting an advancement before a patent came into play. And so the NDA started to spread as a way of safeguarding intellectual property. 

In the 1970's, NDA's moved into the political arena for the first time when the House Select Committee on Assassinations had outside consultants sign them. The rationale was that the Committee was looking into some of the most sensitive parts of the government such as the CIA. While there were some critics, with national security concerns as a backdrop, it seemed warranted for those outside the government to be bound to keeping their mouths shut. 

A decade later "Contracts of Silence" started to appear more regularly, often as part of general employment agreements. Most famously, when Jeffrey Wigand blew the whistle on the tobacco industry, CBS refused to use the interview they had done with him for "60 Minutes" because Wigand had signed an NDA. And since the network had agreed to cover any claims against him if he were sued, the threat of millions of dollars in damages hung over its head. It might have been the first but it was hardly the last example where NDA's slowed down the discovery and subsequent remedy of a public health issue, including silicone breast implants, flaws in GM gas tanks and toxic-waste leaks into the country's waterways. 

More recently, powerful individuals have mandated NDA's to protect themselves. President Trump, Harvey Weinstein and Michael Bloomberg are among the latest to be called out for their use of NDA's, but they are hardly alone. Kanye West and Rihanna have crew members and reviewers sign them regarding upcoming albums and videos, while Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber and Britney Spears have potential dates sign them before they are willing to go out to dinner. 

Then there's Pete Davidson. At his recent comedy shows, the SNL star has gone to extraordinary lengths to make his public shows, well, private. Aside from locking each audience member's phone and smartwatch into tamper proof pouches, they have to sign an NDA that says they won't "give any interviews, opinions, or critiques about [the show] in any form whatsoever including blogs, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram or any other social networking." Breeching the agreement will require the payment of $1 million in damages as well as any associated legal costs. So the morning after there's this exchange: "So, how was the Pete Davidson show last night?" "I can't tell you." "Was it funny?" "No comment" "You mean it wasn't funny?" "I can't say one way or the other." Curiously, Davidson's corporate entity, whose name is on the NDA, is Cowardly Dog, Inc. 

Unlike the mantra for public safety, "If you see something, say something," these days you are just as likely to be told, "Whatever you see, keep it to yourself." So back to where we started. If you think this is stupid, you'll entitled to think it. Just don't say it. Or pay me five million bucks. And the tickets. And the Reese's. Truth be told, I'm kinda hoping you blab.

-END-

Marc Wollin of Bedford is tight lipped. Mostly. His column appears regularly in The Record-Review, The Scarsdale Inquirer and online at http://www.glancingaskance.blogspot.com/, as well as via Facebook, LinkedIn and Twitter.

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