I have observed before that privately owned information outlets have the right to their own editorial policy, which will reflect certain presuppositions. As they are not the government suppressing free press, that is not censorship. Alternate views of different outlets become a form of accountability. Thus CNN and FOX need each other, and we all need NPR and BBC, etc.
Social media are not exactly the same as information outlets, though my opinion is that as privately held entities Facebook and Twitter, etc. have the right to their policies of controlling false information, recognizing that will not be totally objective. Now Parler rises in prominence by pointedly refusing to monitor the accuracy of what is posted there. I would again affirm that as a privately owned entity, they have a right to their policies, as long as it is not slanderous, libelous, or inciting violence. I would suppose that legal action could be taken against those who post such things if they could be identified.
When
I first learned of Parler this week (maybe that shows how out of it I am), I
almost instantly thought of "Will
you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. And somewhat grimly chuckled at spelling
parlor (or parlour) as parler. I have to admit only being familiar with the first
line, so I looked up the whole poem and just couldn’t resist posting it.
I.
"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly;
" 'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to shew when you are there."
"Oh no, no!" said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
II.
"I'm sure you must be weary, with soaring up so high,
Will you rest upon my little bed?" said the spider to the fly.
"There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin;
And if you like to rest awhile, I'll snugly tuck you in."
"Oh no, no!" said the little fly, "for I've often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed!"
III.
Said the cunning spider to the fly, "Dear friend, what shall I do,
To prove the warm affection I've always felt for you?
I have, within my pantry, good store of all that's nice;
I'm sure you're very welcome—will you please to take a slice?"
"Oh no, no!" said the little fly, "kind sir, that cannot be,"
I've heard what's in your pantry, and I do not wish to see."
IV.
"Sweet creature!" said the spider, "you're witty and you're
wise.
How handsome are your gauzy wings, how brilliant are your eyes!
I have a little looking-glass upon my parlour shelf,
If you'll step in one moment, dear, you shall behold yourself."
"I thank you, gentle sir," she said, "for what you're pleased to
say,
And bidding you good morning now, I'll call another day."
V.
The spider turned him round about, and went into his den,
For well he knew, the silly fly would soon come back again:
So he wove a subtle web, in a little corner, sly,
And set his table ready, to dine upon the fly.
Then he went out to his door again, and merrily did sing,
"Come hither, hither, pretty fly, with the pearl and silver wing;
Your robes are green and purple---there's a crest upon your head;
Your eyes are like the diamond bright, but mine are dull as lead."
VI.
Alas, alas! how very soon this silly little fly,
Hearing his wily, flattering words, came slowly flitting by;
With buzzing wings she hung aloft, then near and nearer drew,
Thinking only of her brilliant eyes, and green and purple hue:—
Thinking only of her crested head, poor foolish thing!—At last
Up jumped the cunning spider, and fiercely held her fast.
VII.
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlour—but she ne'er came out again!
—And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart, and ear, and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.[1]
— Mary Howitt (1829)
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