Amy Davidson, Four Ways the Riley Ruling Matters for the NSA

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The executive editor of newyorker.com, Amy Davidson focuses on topics related to national security, politics, and international issues. In this selection from June 29, 2014, Davidson reflects on the Supreme Court’s decision in Riley v. California, part of which appears as the previous selection in this chapter. She puts that ruling in context by linking it to the debates you have been examining throughout this chapter, especially those that relate to the government’s right to collect and monitor the sorts of personal information contained on an individual’s cell phone. In paragraph 3 of this selection, she refers to a podcast she made the same week with Jeffrey Toobin, an attorney and legal analyst for the New Yorker and CNN. (The podcast is available at http://nyr.kr/1AY3xTr.) During her conversation with Toobin, Davidson contends that the case is in many ways about language, specifically, whether the thing we call a mobile telephone should be treated as comparable to what earlier court rulings had in mind when they ruled on telephones. As noted in paragraph 3, Toobin and she interpret the significance of the Riley decision quite differently: he distinguishes sharply between the criminal justice system and the system of laws governing matters of national security (an issue touched on in question 5 of the previous selection), and between data on a specific individual’s phone and anonymous data of the sort aggregated by the NSA. In reading this selection, reflect again on the ways in which stasis theory and arguments of fact, definition — when does X count as Y? — and evaluation form the basis of legal discourse. Likewise, give some thought to the power of the law to shape our lives and to the changing nature of privacy and our understanding of it as a result of changes in technology.

Four Ways the Riley Ruling Matters for the NSA

AMY DAVIDSON

On March 16, 1976, police officers in Baltimore, Maryland, spotted a man driving a Chevrolet Monte Carlo; the car matched one a witness to a crime had seen drive slowly by her house. By noting the license plates, they were able to get the home phone number of the driver, Michael Smith. On August 22, 2009, in a separate case a continent away, police officers stopped a Lexus making its way through the Lincoln Park neighborhood of San Diego, California, with expired tags; the license of the driver, David Riley, wasn’t valid, either, and there were two guns under the hood of the car. The police also took his Samsung Instinct M800 smartphone which, they said, had been in his pocket.

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There is a single trajectory that joins the car ride in Baltimore and the one in San Diego, thirty-three years apart, by way of two major Supreme Court cases: Smith v. Maryland (https://supreme.justia.com/cases/federal/us/442/735/case.html), decided in 1979, which said that the police were within their rights to trace Smith’s phone calls without a warrant (and is often cited in defense of the National Security Agency’s bulk collection of data on Americans); and Riley v. California (http://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/13pdf/13-132_8l9c.pdf) decided last week, in which the Court said that the police were not right to trawl through the data on Riley’s cell phone — texts, contact lists, pictures, videos of street-boxing bouts — without a warrant. The decision in Riley was unanimous and essential. The opinion, written by Chief Justice John Roberts, did not mention the NSA, but it reflects the debate about the agency that has taken place in the past year, thanks to documents leaked by Edward Snowden, an NSA contractor.

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A trawler
bikeriderlondon/Shutterstock

So how might Riley v. California affect the cases that are surely headed to the Supreme Court, post Snowden? Jeffrey Toobin and I talked about this question, along with others related to the Court’s recent decisions, in this week’s Political Scene podcast (http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/newsdesk/2014/06/political-scene-big-decisions-from-the-supreme-court.html). (I should say that Toobin and I have a somewhat different view on the subject, in part because of the gulf he sees between national-security and criminal-justice jurisprudence.) These cases, together, will help define the future of the Fourth Amendment, which affirms “the right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures” in the absence of a warrant. They also touch on questions of language and technology, and the way one shapes the other.

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Each of Davidson’s four points is a causal argument, exploring the impact of the Riley ruling (Supreme Court of the United States, Riley v. California) on the law. For more on causal arguments, see Chapter 11.

Here are four ways Riley matters when thinking about the NSA:

  1. 5 A phone is not a phone. Or rather, it is only accidentally called one. “The term ‘cell phone’ is itself misleading shorthand,” Roberts wrote in his opinion. “Many of these devices are in fact minicomputers that also happen to have the capacity to be used as a telephone. They could just as easily be called cameras, video players, rolodexes, calendars, tape recorders, libraries, diaries, albums, televisions, maps, or newspapers.” Roberts’s language here is very much like that of Judge Richard Leon, of the D.C. District Court, who noted, in an opinion last year, “Cell phones have also morphed into multi-purpose devices. They are now maps and music players. . . . They are cameras. . . . They are even lighters that people hold up at rock concerts.” One of the NSA’s sleights of hand, for which it had the stage help of the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Court, was acting as though a police man standing next to a telephone technician in 1976 to find out what number a single, identifiable suspect was dialing on a single rotary phone was legally indistinguishable from the mass collection of records of the cell-phone calls of virtually all Americans — phones, records, nothing else to see. For Leon, the non-phoneness of modern phones rendered this absurd. Roberts’s opinion suggests that this shelving of Smith v. Maryland might find some sympathy on the Court.

  2. A phone is also not a cigarette pack filled with heroin. In United States v. Robinson, a 1973 decision that also involved the police pulling over a car — a 1965 Cadillac, in this case — the court found that a police officer could search a soft cigarette pack he came across patting down a man named Willie Robinson Jr. The pack, which the officer opened because it felt strange, turned out to contain fourteen hard capsules of heroin. That falls in the category of searches that are reasonable, Justice William Rehnquist wrote in the majority opinion, to see what a person is carrying when he’s arrested, in case there’s, say, a weapon or something hazardous — and whatever was in that pack “he knew it was not cigarettes.” But when it comes to a suspect’s phone, Roberts wrote, the police know what it is and what they will find: data. Roberts explicitly rejects the idea that there are simple analogies between the search of physical objects (tangible things) and the data to which a phone is a portal. “Modern cell phones, as a category, implicate privacy concerns far beyond those implicated by the search of a cigarette pack, a wallet, or a purse.”

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    Similarly, Roberts points out that earlier rulings that let police search pockets were based on the assumption that a pocket couldn’t possibly hold very much. But, he writes,

    If his pockets contain a cell phone, however, that is no longer true. Indeed, a cell phone search would typically expose to the government far more than the most exhaustive search of a house: A phone not only contains in digital form many sensitive records previously found in the home; it also contains a broad array of private information never found in a home in any form — unless the phone is.

    New technology doesn’t mean that law enforcement gets a bonanza; it means that precedents need to be re-examined before they are uncritically applied — and that the NSA’s advocates will have some real work to do. As Roberts puts it, “Any extension of that reasoning to digital data has to rest on its own bottom.”

  3. If it’s “My House,” it is not “just” metadata.  Since the Snowden revelations, we have been constantly reassured that much (though not all) of what the government collects without a warrant is “just” metadata — and what could be the harm in that? Metadata is supposedly distinguishable from content — it is information about a communication, the labels affixed to it, the addresses and the contacts, the times and the dates, and perhaps the locations. The reply is that an enormous amount can be learned from putting pieces of metadata together, and an awareness of that is present in Riley v. California and its companion case, United States v. Wurie. After the police took Brima Wurie’s phone, they saw calls from a number that came up as “My House”; that was used to connect him to evidence found at the address associated with the number. Police looking at Riley’s phone saw that some names on his contact list were designated “CK,” which they took to be shorthand for “Crip killer,” and part of their evidence for his affiliation with the Bloods gang. (Another piece of evidence was a photo on his cell phone of Riley with yet another car, a red Oldsmobile — the Bloods’ color — that had been at the scene of a gang shooting.) “We also reject the United States’ final suggestion that officers should always be able to search a phone’s call log, as they did in Wurie’s case,” Roberts wrote, noting that “the Government relies on Smith v. Maryland”:

    The Court in that case, however, concluded that the use of a pen register was not a “search” at all under the Fourth Amendment. See id., at 745–746. There is no dispute here that the officers engaged in a search of Wurie’s cell phone. Moreover, call logs typically contain more than just phone numbers; they include any identifying information that an individual might add, such as the label “my house” in Wurie’s case.

  4. 10 Judges really need to know the technology when evaluating the government’s claims. But, the government said, we can’t wait to get a warrant; criminals will have their data remotely erased by their confederates; they will spring geofencing traps that will wipe the phones clean; there might be only moments before the phone locks; the evidence will be out of our reach forever before we can reach a judge. This all sounds very alarming — geofencing! — but, luckily, someone told the Justices that you can deal with a lot of the issues with simple measures, like removing batteries, using the window before a phone is locked to change the locking settings, or just putting the thing in what are called Faraday bags: “They are essentially sandwich bags made of aluminum foil: cheap, lightweight, and easy to use.” Technical awareness and skepticism of government claims about ticking time bombs: these are two easy-to-use items that will be helpful to the Court in the coming NSA cases.

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We are not on a different planet than we were four decades ago, but we move through it differently, with pockets bigger than our houses. In his decision, Roberts wrote that pretending that delving into cell-phone data is “materially indistinguishable” from the old way of searching the things a person carried is “like saying a ride on horseback is materially indistinguishable from a flight to the moon. Both are ways of getting from point A to point B, but little else justifies lumping them together.” A horse is not a moon rocket. A 1975 Monte Carlo isn’t even a Lexus in Lincoln Park.

RESPOND •

  1. Davidson’s argument is obviously an evaluative one. What, specifically, is she evaluating, what criteria does she use, and what evidence does she present? How does the layout of her text help the reader navigate it easily? (Chapter 10 discusses these aspects of evaluative arguments.)

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  2. Having read an excerpt from the Riley ruling as the previous selection, you are in a position to evaluate how well Davidson provided the necessary background about the case for readers who have little or no information about it so that they can understand the issues she is discussing. The criterion here would be the Goldilocks Test: not too much and not too little but just the right amount. What grade would you give her for this aspect of the selection? Why? If, in your opinion, she gives too little information, what should be added? If she gives too much, what could be omitted?

  3. Davidson argues, “Technical awareness and skepticism of government claims about ticking time bombs . . . will be helpful to the Court in the coming NSA cases.” What is she referring to with this claim? How does her stance on “technical awareness” relate to Justice Alito’s observations in his concurring opinion, excerpted in the previous selection? Has Davidson provided evidence for the second item — the “ticking time bombs”? Do you agree with her contention? Why or why not?

  4. Reread footnote 1 in the previous selection, an excerpt from the Riley case (Supreme Court of the United States, Riley v. California). How do the qualifications of the Riley ruling made in the paragraph complicate Davidson’s claim that the Riley case has clear implications for upcoming court cases about the NSA?

  5. As the headnote makes clear, Davidson pays attention to matters of language, a fact that shows up in her own writing. It is quite clear that Davidson is no admirer of the NSA and its practices and is likely critical of the liberties taken by police more broadly. How do her word choices and particularly her figurative use of words with concrete meanings help demonstrate her stance? Choose several specific examples, noting where they occur and what function they serve. (Chapter 13’s discussion of style in language will help you with this question.)

  6. The readings in this chapter have challenged and equipped you to consider in some detail issues related to privacy and surveillance by governments and entities like social media. How has your thinking about these issues changed from reading these selections? Construct a causal argument in which you define and evaluate these changes, thinking about them in terms of cause and effect. In short, what effect have these readings had on your thinking and why? You’ll likely want to begin by brainstorming about how your thinking has changed and then try to link those changes to specific selections or passages in selections, to class discussions, to homework exercises, or to things you’re exposed to outside class. (Chapter 11 will help you design your causal argument.)

Click to navigate to this activity.