AT&T's government lobbying has a long and fairly sordid history. Before taking you inside our investigation of AT&T's recent anti-net neutrality lobbying (and the charges of "astroturfing" being thrown around), let's take a stroll down memory lane.

It was 1976, and a House subcommittee was considering a bill called the Consumer Communications Reform Act. The proposed law, heavily backed by AT&T, would have made the then monopoly even more of one by effectively declaring its long distance system America's "official" service. The bill clearly targeted a competitor: MCI's new microwave tower network, just being rolled out across the country. For days, Capitol Hill had been deluged by workers, priests, police chiefs, mayors, and anybody else Ma Bell could round up to support the legislation.

Then Representative Tim Wirth of Colorado walked into the hearing room. He saw that it was packed with people. Wirth asked the first panelist, an AT&T executive, to identify his colleagues. Five minutes later the man was still reading out names.

"Will everyone associated with AT&T just stand up?" an exasperated Wirth finally asked. The entire room rose. Everyone started laughing.

As it was then, so it is now. It should be no surprise to anyone that, as the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) proposes new net neutrality rules, AT&T Senior Vice President Jim Cicconi has sent out a e-mail to the company's entire managerial staff urging them to deluge the FCC's new discussion site with anti-net neutrality comments. The memo includes recommended talking points:

"The 'net neutrality' rules as reported will jeopardize the very goals supported by the Obama administration that every American have access to high-speed Internet services no matter where they live or their economic circumstance," Cicconi warns. "That goal can't be met with rules that halt private investment in broadband infrastructure. And the jobs associated with that investment will be lost at a time when the country can least afford it."

Fair enough; AT&T doesn't like the idea of network neutrality rules. But the company has long been accused of going well beyond such overt lobbying. It's also said to be a master at creating fake grassroots enthusiasm—so-called "astroturf" campaigns—often using small minority and civil rights groups as pawns in its government affairs chess game. Those charges are now being made once again, and Ars investigated the issue.

Avoiding tentative conclusions

Jobs, jobs, jobs. That was the line in 1976, and that's the line being toed by everybody from state Attorneys General to town council selectmen. If there's one thing that both the pre- and post-breakup AT&T is good at, it's corralling huge numbers of people—workers, politicians, non-profits, ministers, whoever—into carrying the telco's water on the latest hot topic, and the telco isn't adverse to spreading lots of scratch around in return.

Take those 72 Democratic representatives who wrote to the FCC last week urging the FCC "to avoid tentative conclusions" on net neutrality "which favor government regulation." A Washington Post analysis says that all but two of them took a combined $180,000 in AT&T campaign contribution money, plus plenty more from Comcast and Verizon.

And that's just the beginning of the money trail. To appreciate the vast influence that AT&T, Comcast, and Verizon enjoy, check out the AT&T Foundation's 2007 tax returns as an example: it has pages and pages of non-profits, charities, support groups, and community centers that receive hundreds of thousands of dollars in telco largesse.

Thumbing through the return, it's easy to come to simple, "follow-the-money" conclusions about some of the filings which the FCC is now receiving. Take the go-slow on net neutrality commentary filed in late September by the Hispanic Technology and Telecommunications Partnership (HTTP) and 19 other civil rights groups. Their statement warns that net neutrality policies could inhibit investment and "leave disenfranchised communities further behind." The coalition describes themselves as having a common purpose, serving communities "that are among the most severely impacted by a lack of access to technology." And indeed the list includes signers from venerable organizations like the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and the League of United Latin American Citizens (LULAC).

But the groups signing the letter have something else in common: financial support from AT&T (and sometimes Verizon and Comcast). These advocates don't hide this. For example, the website of one of the signers, the Japanese American Citizens League, says "Website made possible by the generous sponsorship of AT&T." 100 Black Men lists AT&T as a "partner" and "sponsor" of the group. AT&T Foundation's 2007 tax returns show that 100 Black Men received $100,000 that year and $75,000 in 2006.

Similarly, the NAACP, which also signed the statement, lists AT&T and Verizon on its Centennial Event sponsors page. LULAC's website indicates that it received a $1.5 million Technology Access Grant from AT&T. Comcast Foundation's records indicate that it gave the LULAC Institute $60,000 in 2007. And in 2006 the AT&T Foundation gave LULAC numerous grants to support computer education centers across the United States.

And some of these groups have even more direct ties to the telcos. The Asian American Justice Center's Advisory Council includes Anne H. Chow, listed as "AT&T Chair" on the group's website. In 2006, AT&T identified her as a senior vice president for the company. Her AAJC bio says that Chow "played a key role in the AT&T/SBC merger with overall responsibility for the Sales and Marketing integration planning effort."

Wrong side of the divide

But when we spoke with HTTP's Sylvia Aguilera, it was obvious that there was more than money doing the talking here. We asked her straight out if AT&T or one of the other big ISPs put her group up to writing the letter. No, she replied, it was she who had initiated the action. HTTP's worries about net neutrality stem from concerns that the policy could slow down investment in ISP rollout, she explained, an area where many Latinos are finding jobs. We also asked AT&T whether they had a hand in the statement, but received no reply.

Ironically, while pro-neutrality activists see astroturf in all this, Aguilera sees something similar in the net neutrality movement. An HTTP analysis calls it "dominated by mainstream consumer advocates and the technology and telecommunications policy elite, groups that are least familiar and least equipped to discuss the perspectives of communities on the wrong side of the digital divide." We asked Aguilera which groups she was talking about. She wouldn't say.

But before you jump on that comment, consider the subject from the viewpoint of a blue-collar Latino, black, or white worker. Where would you have the best chance at finding employment--getting a staff position at everybody's favorite pro-neutrality company, Google, or supporting last mile lines for AT&T?

This kind of perception gap is not unique to net neutrality, either. In 2004, the Center for Public Integrity issued a report contending that many of the civil rights and women's advocacy groups who signed statements against "a la carte" cable programming, then supported by then FCC Chair Kevin Martin, received donations from the cable industry. (A la carte is the notion that consumers should be able to buy cable channels on an individual basis.)

The mentioned groups were quite upset with the report (especially when Martin cited it at an Aspen Institute Forum) because regardless of who they took money from, they sincerely thought that a la carte would make it harder for minority programmers to generate advertising revenue on cable platforms (few people would subscribe to tiny, minority-oriented channels, but they might watch occasional shows if the network was included in a broader cable package).

Similarly, the HTTP coalition takes exception to suggestions that its perspectives are telco-driven, even if some of its members do take telco money. A recent commentary by Art Brodsky of Public Knowldge didn't mention the HTTP group, but it did note that on the net neutrality question, many minority advocates, "for whatever reason—whether they believe what the Big Telecom companies tell them or not," appear to "land on policies that hurt their constituencies."

Brodsky's statement also wondered whether an upcoming anti-net neutrality ad signed by some of these groups is being directed towards Mignon Clyburn, the FCC's newest Democrat and an African-American woman.

Aguilera quickly published an indignant response to this post, denying the Clyburn suggestion. "We take genuine exception to the manner in which the author dismisses minorities' opinions as naively misinformed," she declared, the statement co-signed by NAACP Vice President Hilary O. Shelton.

And so net neutrality activists face a big challenge: convincing a wider range of stakeholders that uncertain new reforms will not jeopardize their stake in the present system. It is in those anxieties that AT&T and company find allies.

Do you have an estimate?

Still, while money doesn't explain everything, it doesn't explain nothing, either. For instance, media reform group Free Press pointed out to us the curious case of the Arkansas Retired Seniors Coalition. The group filed a letter (PDF) with the FCC that opposed network neutrality... but forgot to strip out the "XYZ organization" and replace the text with its own name. (Cue ageist "senior moment" joke here.) We've highlighted the odd text below:

The group appears to have left no discernible traces on the Internet, and no website could be found. Yet it cares enough about network neutrality to send a letter to DC that just happens to look like a template? It's unclear who was behind the letter, but it certainly looks like evidence of anti-neutrality forces rounding up an odd collection of allies on this issue.

So can net neutrality boosters overcome AT&T's counter-offensive? Absolutely... and in some of the same ways. Forty local grassroots groups just submitted a letter to the FCC supporting the agency's net neutrality proposals. The signers include the Ella Baker Center for Human Rights in Oakland, California, and La Asamblea de Derechos Civiles (Assembly of Civil Rights) of Minneapolis, Minnesota.

The incumbent ISPs have deep pockets and decades of experience at this sort of fight, but there's always a possibility that lobbying too aggressively will backfire.

That's what happened in 1976. In his wonderful history of the breakup of AT&T, The Deal of the Century, Steve Coll describes the moment when the Consumer Communications Reform Act fell flat on its face. None other than the Chair of AT&T, legendary executive John deButts, was testifying on its behalf at a hearing. Then Congressman Wirth interrupted his speech.

"Do you have an estimate," Wirth angrily asked, "of what your lobbying activities for 1976 on this bill have cost?" About $600,000, deButts claimed.

"Have you gotten the kind of support and sponsorship you would like?" the Congressman continued. "Frankly, can you tell me how many people AT&T has working full time on this legislation?"

"I have no idea, sir, but it is very few, very few," deButts baldly replied. The hearing audience again howled with laughter, but this time against AT&T, not with it. deButts' answer killed the bill. "By swinging too hard," Coll observed, "the AT&T chairman had missed everything and had hurled himself out of the ring."

It's a mistake that AT&T might well make again as the FCC, backed by a solid pro-net neutrality majority, solicits comments from the public on its Internet non-discrimination proposals.