Here’s a great conversation at Slate​.com about Shane Harris’ new book The Watchers.

We’ll be having the author here at Cato on March 10th for a similar discussion of his book and the growth of the surveillance state.

Register here.

Today, President Obama began to fulfill the promise that health care legislation would be hashed out on C‑SPAN. His discussion with congressional leaders was broadcast on that cable channel and streamed live on the Internet. The nearly six-and-a-half hour-long meeting began to touch on many of the issues at stake in the health care area. 

I’ll leave observations about the merits to our experts, who live-blogged the morning session. I found a few things interesting from a transparency perspective:

The format was far more conducive to productive discussion than procedures for “debate” in Congress. What generally happens in the House and Senate is display of members’ and senators’ well-settled views. So today interested Americans could get a real sense of the issues and how their representatives think about them.

There seemed to be a division between representatives who knew the technical subject matter and those who—for lack of a better phrase—knew the emotional subject matter. Surprisingly astute commentaries on fiscal realities were met with appeals to the story of one constituent or another—or of members’ own families’ health predicaments.

Though there was much talking past one another, these are all good things to see. It will inform the public, and a better informed public will make better decisions about health care legislation, about individual representatives, and about the proper role of government. 

I know how I feel about these things. (I’m soft-pedaling my views here as hard as I can…) My opinions didn’t change, though I adopted new nuances to my thinking.

It’s doubtful that many people’s opinions will change. But I’m confident that a more open process will lead to better results in many senses: specific policy results; electoral activity; and people’s overall sense of the role of government.

Today’s meeting only scratched the surface, of course. Sessions like this in the days and weeks to come will do more to improve the transparency of the lawmaking process, in this issue and hopefully others. Today’s transparency precedent is something that the president and federal lawmakers should not retreat from.

It looks as though we’ll be getting a straight one-year reauthorization of the expiring provisions of the Patriot Act, without even the minimal added safeguards for privacy and civil liberties that had been proposed in the Senate’s watered down bill. This is disappointing, but was also eminently predictable: Between health care and the economy, it was clear Congress wasn’t going to make time for any real debate on substantive reform of surveillance law. Still, the fact that the reauthorization is only for one year suggests that the reformers plan to give it another go—though, in all probability, we won’t see any action on this until after the midterm elections.

The silver lining here is that this creates a bit of breathing room, and means legislators may now have a chance to take account of the absolutely damning Inspector General’s report that found that the FBI repeatedly and systematically broke the law by exceeding its authorization to gather information about people’s telecommunications activities. It also means the debate need not be contaminated by the panic over the Fort Hood shootings or the failed Christmas bombing—neither of which have anything whatever to do with the specific provisions at issue here, but both of which would have doubtless been invoked ad nauseam anyway.

Everybody’s wrong. That’s sort of the message I was putting out when I wrote my 2008 American University Law Review article entitled “Reforming Fourth Amendment Privacy Doctrine.”

A lot of people have poured a lot of effort into the “reasonable expectation of privacy” formulation Justice Harlan wrote about in his concurrence to the 1967 decision in U.S. v. Katz. But the Fourth Amendment isn’t about people’s expectations or the reasonableness of their expectations. It’s about whether, as a factual matter, they have concealed information from others—and whether the government is being reasonable in trying to discover that information.

The upshot of the “reasonable expectation of privacy” formulation is that the government can argue—straight-faced—that Americans don’t have a Fourth Amendment interest in their locations throughout the day and night because data revealing it is produced by their mobile phones’ interactions with telecommunications providers, and the telecom companies have that data.

I sat down with podcaster extraordinaire Caleb Brown the other day to talk about all this. He titled our conversation provocatively: “Should the Government Own Your GPS Location?”

Google executives who had nothing to do with the creation, uploading, review, or display of a video have been criminally convicted in Italy for its brief appearance on a Google site.

The video, which showed Italian children taunting an autistic schoolmate, was promptly taken down after Italian authorities notified Google. The company assisted the authorities in locating the girl who uploaded it, according to Google’s account. (Her subsequent conviction makes it safe to assume that Google was cooperating with a criminal investigation as required by Italian law.) But four Google employees were charged with criminal defamation and failure to comply with the Italian privacy code.

That can’t happen here—unless we let it happen here.

This is a good time to review and extoll the Communications Decency Act—not because it attempted to censor Internet speech (that part was overturned), but because it protected providers of interactive services (like Web sites) from having to become gatekeepers over Internet content. The law shielded them from liability for what users of their services do.

I believe common law would have eventually reached that result had the statute not been passed, but without protections like that in the CDA’s section 230, the wide-open, rollicking, soapbox-for-all Internet we know would not exist—it would be just a plussed-up television because everything uploaded would have to get a professional’s review for potential liability.

That’s what Italy stands to end up with if it allows liability against providers of interactive services. It’s what we stand to end up with if the many threats to CDA section 230 get traction.

Last week, I noted the strange story of a lawsuit filed by parents who allege that their son was spied on by school officials who used security software capable of remotely activating the webcams in laptops distributed to students. A bit more information on that case has since come out. The school district has issued a statement which doesn’t get into the details of the case, but avers that the remote camera capability has only ever been used in an effort to locate laptops believed to have been lost or stolen. (That apparently includes a temporary “loaner computer that, against regulations, might be taken off campus.”) They do, however, acknowledge that they erred in failing to notify parents about this capability. The lawyer for the student plaintiff is now telling reporters that school officials called his client in to the vice principal’s office when they mistook his Mike and Ike candies for illegal drugs.

Perhaps most intriguingly, a security blogger has done some probing into the technical capabilities of the surveillance software used by the school district. The blogger also rounds up comments from self-identified students of the high school, many of whom claim that they noticed the webcam light on their school-issued laptops flickering on and off—behavior they were told was a “glitch”—which may provide some reason to question the school’s assertion that this capability was only activated in a handful of cases to locate lost laptops. The FBI, meanwhile, has reportedly opened an investigation to see whether any federal wiretap laws may have been violated.

It’s this last item I want to call attention to. The complaint against the school district states a number of causes of action. The most obvious one—which sounds to me like a slam dunk—is a Fourth Amendment claim. But there are also a handful of claims under federal wiretapping statutes, specifically the Electronic Communications Privacy Act and the Stored Communications Act. These are more dubious, and rest on the premise that the webcam image was an “electronic communication” that school officials “intercepted” (as those terms are used in the statute), or alternatively that the activation of the security software involved “unauthorized” access by the school to its own laptop. The trouble is that courts considering similar claims in the past have held that federal electronic surveillance law does not cover silent video surveillance—or rather, the criminal wiretap statutes don’t.

That leads to a strange asymmetry in a couple of different ways. First, intelligence surveillance covered by the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act does include silent video monitoring. Second, it seems to provide less protection for a type of monitoring that is arguably still more intrusive. If officials had turned on the laptop’s microphone, that would fall under ECPA’s prohibition on intercepts of “oral communications.” And if the student had been engaged in a video chat using software like Skype, that would clearly constitute an “electronic communication,” even if the audio were not intercepted. But at least in the cases I’m familiar with, the courts have declined to apply that label to surreptitiously recorded silent video—which one might think would be the most invasive of all, given that the target is completely unaware of being observed by anybody.

One final note: The coverage I’m seeing is talking about this as though it involves one school doing something highly unusual. It’s not remotely clear to me that this is the case. We know that at least one other school district employs similar monitoring software, and a growing number of districts are experimenting with issuing laptops to students. I’d like to see reporters start calling around and find out just how many schools are supplying kids with potential telescreens.

This Rea​son​.tv video illustrates the weak case for network neutrality regulation of Internet service providers.

In the AT&T case, which the video touches on, an AT&T web site blocked some (barely) controversial statements by Eddie Vedder—the Pearl Jam lead singer who stopped mattering a really long time ago. This was an error, and it was contrary to AT&T policy, according to this August 2007 story. Yet the example is one of a few used to argue for net neutrality regulations.

Do we really want the government treading any of this ground?

Most people would probably agree that web site operators should be free to publish or not publish whatever they want. Regulations barring web sites from editing out controversial political statements, or requiring them to broadcast them, would be facially unconstitutional. Strangely, proponents of net neutrality regulation tout this kind of regulation as a virtue at the Internet’s transport layer.