In case you missed it, the first incident involved a BBC television show that claimed an unnamed former UK politician abused boys. Soon after, people on Twitter used “jigsaw identification” to conclude that the person is question was Lord McAlpine, and some of their conclusions were retweeted 100,000 times. The BBC soon acknowledged the report was false and apologized to Lord McAlpine who said the public hatred he endured was “terrifying.”

Meanwhile, in New York, a man accused Sesame Street puppeteer Kevin Clash of carrying on an affair with him when he was a minor. Even though the allegation were unproved, Twitter immediately lit up with tasteless jokes linking to the Clash story like:

“Voice of Elmo accused of affair with minor nyp.st/TVGXVd” haha no elmo you’re not supposed to tickle me! elmo stop! ahhhh elmoooo!

— Ryan MacNamara (@massnamara) November 12, 2012

Several days later, the accuser recanted his story and said he was of age and that the affair was consensual. On Sunday, the story became more confused with reports of a payoff and a criminal history on the part of the accuser.

Trial by Twitter and libel law

The facts aren’t identical but both situations involve public figures subjected to “trial by Twitter” over terrible allegations. The legal fall-out, however, has been very different.

In Britain, Lord McAlpine has already obtained a libel settlement from the BBC for falsely suggested he was a paedophile on national TV. The legal action didn’t stop there, however. Lord McAlpine’s lawyers have also vowed they will go after “a very long list” of people who repeated the claims on Twitter.

Meanwhile, neither Clash nor Sesame Street have threatened to sue the media or anyone who shared the story on Twitter. This response reflects not only different facts but also very different libel laws in the US and Britain.

“[I]n America it’s hard for famous people (and especially government officials or former high government officials) to sue people for defamation.  The plaintiff has to prove that the defendant knew the allegation was false, or at least knew it was quite likely false,” explained Professor Eugene Volokh, a noted First Amendment scholar at UCLA, in an email. ” Moreover, if the defendant is just stating an opinion (“Based on what I read in this article, so-and-so must be guilty”), that too is constitutionally protected against a libel lawsuit.”

Volokh added the rules are different for non-public figures. In the UK, however, the overall libel law is much stricter and puts the burden of proof on the speaker to show a statement is true. This means the rich and powerful in Britain have long used libel law to intimidate or silence critics.

“The English law has been completely fixated on reputation and undervalued the public interest in free speech, and has been unwilling to protect the media against good-faith mistakes,” according to an email from Professor Stephen Scott, a constitutional law expert at McGill University. “This has not only been in the context of defamation, but in book/magazine, theatre and cinema/video censorship.”

Can you sue 100,000 Twitter users?

If Lord McAlpine’s lawyers follow up their threat, it will be interesting to see how far they get. Under UK law, they can go after not just people who tweeted conclusions about the BBC show but also everyone who retweeted those conclusions. In theory, half the country could be in court by the time this is done.

Those in America are safe from the Lord’s lawyers, however. That’s because Congress in 2010 unanimously passed a law called the SPEECH Act to put a stop to so-called libel tourism — where powerful people around the world would get a libel judgement in London and then show up in America to collect.

Unfortunately, the American shield is of little help to UK Twitter users. Those users not only face legal exposure over Lord McAlpine, but will have to decide whether to self-censor the next time the BBC reports news they can’t confirm. While false accusations about paedophilia are a terrible thing, such  legal campaigns that stymie free expression may prove an even greater evil.

As services like Twitter cause news to spread faster and more broadly than ever, courts in the UK and elsewhere will have to find new ways to balance reputations and free speech.

[Update: A reader objected to the original headline which said “BBC and Elmo sex scandals.” My intent was to provide context not sensationalism but I take the point and have updated:

Hey GigaOm, you think maybe we could NOT use the phrase “Elmo sex scandal” in headlines? gigaom.com/2012/11/18/twi…

— Jillian C. York (@jilliancyork) November 19, 2012

You only have to look around you and see that the power of a lie is stronger than ever — in politics, in propaganda or anywhere else. And forget the shoes: some days it seems as if the truth hasn’t even found its pants on by the time a lie is racking up the air miles.

Just take the case of Lord McAlpine, once one of the most powerful politicians in Britain, who was taken by surprise when the internet launched a virulent — and completely misguided — campaign to label him a child rapist.

Just in case you haven’t been watching this mess exploding across the British media over the last few weeks, let me recap briefly. At the start of November, the BBC’s Newsnight program — already under fire for not running a story about allegations of pedophilia against a now-deceased BBC presenter — decided to prove its mettle by running a report claiming that a senior politician from the 1980s was, in fact, a child abuser.

While the report did not name the individual, speculation (inevitably) spilled out onto the net and the culprit hinted at in the report was widely identified: McAlpine, the man who helped finance Margaret Thatcher’s decade in power. Except it turned out the BBC had the wrong man, in a genuine case of mistaken identity that was blown up to mammoth, excruciating proportions by a series of basic journalistic failures.

Ouch.

Heads rolled: big ones. The BBC’s new boss George Entwistle (pictured) resigned, sending the corporation even deeper into turmoil and leaving some — including our own Mathew Ingram — to even question the validity of its role as a state-sanctioned broadcaster at all.

It is, as they say around these parts, a right old mess.

But how do you fix it? How can you make the truth more powerful than a falsehood?

McAlpine and his lawyers have decided to take recourse to the law and hold the internet accountable, by chasing “a very long list” of people who mentioned McAlpine’s name on Twitter and elsewhere. Here’s what they said:

“We know who you are; we know exactly the extent what you have done and it’s easier to come forward and apologise and arrange to settle us because this is cheaper’.”

I can’t fault McAlpine for wanting to recover his reputation. Who wouldn’t? But however many legal actions he launches, it is not the courts — or the threat of the courts — that will correct the wrong done against him. McAlpine — a millionaire who lives in Italy — doesn’t need the money. And the apologies don’t carry much weight really, since they come from people he has not met and never carry as far or as loud as accusations.

Not exactly free speech

British courts have found one, drastic way to try and curtail social media abuses. Over the last few months, we’ve seen a rash of court cases and even imprisonment resulting from offensive messages on social media: for racist comments about a sick sportsman, joking about a missing 5-year-old, saying soldiers should ‘go to hell’.

McAlpine’s fake accusers are unlikely to see a prison cell, since these would be civil actions — though you can never be sure the UK’s legislators won’t try and find a way to make it so: they wanted to shut down Facebook and Twitter after last year’s summer riots, after all, despite no evidence that they were used to incite violence.

In fact, however, the truth is that the fix has already been identified and deployed, because the lie has become news in and of its own right. The fact that McAlpine was wrongly implicated has, in fact, become a much bigger deal than the original report ever was. But it is only successful because of the very specific context (that it happened within the BBC, which everyone has an opinion about) and the severity of the response (that it led to the Beeb’s newly-installed boss performing a sudden act of seppuku).

The information network that so readily slandered him has stepped in to take action action because the fact the slander was wrong became more interesting. What the network taketh away, the network giveth, so to speak.

Unfortunately, while this may work for Lord McAlpine, but it won’t work for everyone. The trouble is that information is not self-correcting unless the truth is more interesting than the untruth. There are very few times that happens, and usually it’s because the lie is so big and dangerous that the blowback is violent.

The fact is, there aren’t many lessons in this mess. Perhaps if you want your indiscretions to get corrected, make them drastic enough that they can’t be ignored. Or, if you want a big lie to get skewered, make sure an international broadcaster is there to take the blame.

In the end, though, these are pretty tough conditions to replicate. And until you manage to do that, Mark Twain looks more and more right as each day passes.