Imagine that a group of us invents our own new language. Let’s say we’re eleven in all, the size of a football team that relies on hand signals and barks of “Omaha!” code to deceive the opponent and move the ball down the field. Could the government ban us from speaking our new language to each other or from using it until some FBI linguists mastered it? And all on the off chance that we might use our new language to carry out a terrorist attack, execute a massive fraud, conduct a child-porn enterprise, or commit some other heinous offense.
Could the government tell us that literature, poetry, and innovation in our new language could evolve only as ploddingly as government agents could keep up? Our collective creativity would be stifled. We’d be presumed innocent in court if we ever actually committed a crime. Could the government nevertheless decide that it must — for our own good, of course — presume us guilty in our daily lives?
Put another way: Has there been a tectonic shift in our conception of civil rights? In constitutional theory, individual rights come from our Creator. They pre-exist the Bill of Rights. Constitutional guarantees merely safeguard our rights; they do not grant our rights in the first place.
Do we still believe that? Do we have freedom of speech, or freedom to speak only what law-enforcement can monitor? Does the Fourth Amendment guarantee freedom from unreasonable searches, or afford only whatever expectation of privacy the government, not the society, decides is reasonable — and cabined by what the government is technologically capable of searching?
Let me back up for a moment, because this was supposed to be a column upbraiding Apple. The tech giant is resisting a court directive that it help the FBI gain access to the iPhone of Syed Rizwan Farook, the deceased San Bernardino jihadist who, with his wife, Tashfeen Malik, killed 14 people in San Bernardino on December 2.
Within the four corners of the case, there are many good reasons to rip Apple. The government has overwhelming probable cause to search the phone after the mass-murder attack. There is a compelling public interest in identifying other jihadists and terror plots about which the phone data may provide evidence. And in the narrow confines of this case, Apple is protecting nobody’s privacy. Farook is dead, and the phone wasn’t even his: It belongs to the municipal agency that employed him, the San Bernardino County Department of Public Health, which assigned the phone to him for work purposes. Farook waived any conceivable privacy interest by signing an acknowledgment that the SBCDPH could search the phone at any time. And the SBCDPH, which is cooperating with the FBI, consents to the search of its phone.