Kudos to the New Jersey Supreme Court.  Last week, the court ruled that ISPs can’t release personal information about their New Jersey users without a valid subpoena.  The court, in a unanimous 7-0 ruling, found that the New Jersey Constitution gives its residents greater protection against unreasonable searches than the U.S. Constitution does.  In the case before the court, the court ruled that the police were required to first obtain a grand jury subpoena before learning a woman’s identity from an ISP.  Her ISP apparently released this information at the request of the police. 

This is an important decision.  First, the New Jersey Supreme Court is one of the more highly regarded state courts in the United States.  Other state courts wrestling with these types of issues will undoubtedly look to see how the New Jersey court decided this case.  Second, it illustrates the continued rise of “state constitutionalism.”  People typically don’t realize that the federal constitution sets a “floor” on a person’s constitutional rights, not a “ceiling.”  In other words, a state court can’t rule that its state’s constitution gives less protection than the federal one does, but can find that the state constitution gives more—at least to its own residents.

Given the perception that the U.S. Supreme Court is less friendly (and somewhat hostile) to privacy rights—especially when it comes to the rights of law enforcement to obtain personal data in these post-9/11 times—combined with the continued paralysis in Congress over individual privacy rights, a ruling from a state’s highest court on issues such as this serves as an implicit rebuke at the lack of leadership at the federal level.  While it’s only one state so far that has now recognized a reasonable expectation of privacy for internet users, it’s got to start somewhere.  Let’s hope other states follow suit.  

Talk about a slow news day.  A recent article in USA Today discusses the so-called “fine print” in ISP contracts and then concludes that it doesn’t really matter anyway.  This non-story highlights the fact that ISP contracts, which their company lawyers draft, give ISPs rights to read their subscribers’ e-mail, block their subscribers from accessing certain websites, and can terminate their subscribers for overusage of their networks.  The horror.  Imagine that?  A business that protects itself.  The shareholders will be outraged.

As an attorney who drafts these contracts, this article is much ado about nothing.  Yes, ISPs put all sorts of language into these agreements to make sure that their services are not abused by users.  But simply because an ISP has the right to read a user’s e-mail or block a user from accessing certain sites doesn’t mean that it will actually do so.  The article makes it sound inevitable.

An ISP, like every other business in America, is keenly aware of the public relations disaster that would result if it was disclosed that they routinely read their users’ e-mails, blocked access to websites, or simply terminated their users accounts due to overusage, without good cause.  They would quickly and perhaps permanently lose users as the media and blogosphere savaged them.  And as they know all too well, everything in cyberspace lives on indefinitely. 

But think of the public relations disaster that would result if it was disclosed that an ISP was aware or suspected that a user was engaging in wide scale spamming, copyright infringement, or the downloading of child pornography.  Or that certain users were hogging bandwidth to the point that other subscribers’ service was affected, while the ISP took a laissez-faire attitude?  It’s not exactly a model of corporate responsibility in these post-Sarbanes Oxley times.  The blogosphere would again be buzzing, albeit for different reasons.  You’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.

Furthermore, some of these clauses are economic necessities.  The RIAA has begun targeting ISPs whose users engage in massive and sustained downloading of copyrighted music through their networks.  If an ISP suspects that a user is downloading copyrighted material and does nothing, it can be held liable for contributory copyright infringement in certain instances.  But by terminating the offending user’s account, it may insulate itself from liability.  The “fine print” of the contract allows an ISP to do so.

Is an ISP contract really that different from signing a lease with a landlord?  A landlord has the right to access your apartment with or without notice and can potentially invade your privacy.  A landlord puts certain restrictions as to how its property can be used and how many people can live in it.  And a landlord can evict you under the right circumstances.  While internet access is certainly important nowadays, so is having a place to live.  Yet many tenants have rules not unlike what their ISPs impose, but don’t assume that their landlords will exercise them indiscriminately.

So the contractual provisions such as those described in the article are not necessarily a bad thing.  It all depends upon the circumstances.  If an ISP does include a provision that a court finds to be unfair or onerous, it can be struck from the contract (to say nothing of the scrutiny the ISP would get from that state’s attorney general).  So it’s not as if an ISP can do anything it wants.  While it may sound like this is a case of “ISPs gone wild,” the simple fact is that—for the moment at least—this was an article in search of a story.  But when an ISP does overreach or overreact, I’m sure we’ll hear about it somehow.

     A Pennsylvania couple recently added their names to the long list of people who have sued Google.  Aaron and Christine Boring, who own a home in Pittsburgh, have filed suit against Google after learning that their house appears on Google’s controversial “Street View” feature, which allows its users to see an actual street-level view of a particular road, including all of the homes, apartments, people, and anything else that appears on it.  The Borings claim that Google violated their privacy, devalued their property, and caused them mental distress.

      This isn’t the first time that the Street View feature has raised privacy concerns, both here or abroad, when it made its debut last year.  Still, the Borings’ suit illustrates the shape of things to come with respect to the growing conflict between privacy rights and First Amendment rights.  Expect more lawsuits like this, especially as sites like Google continually roll out more and more features to provide detailed and information-rich experiences for their users.

     By and large, there’s no expectation of privacy on a public street, so Google hasn’t broken any laws.  Anybody and their property can be photographed on a public street at any time.  And the company does provide a means by which people can submit a request that certain images be removed.  Nevertheless, it’s still a bit creepy and just because a company has the right to do something doesn’t mean that it should do it.  Unless you’re Google—who has piles and piles of money.

      Of course, the problem with suing the 800 pound gorilla is that the gorilla has the resources to fight back.  And Google isn’t exactly known for rolling over and writing large checks to make litigants go away.  But despite Google’s claim that there’s no merit to the lawsuit—a common response from the company—the Borings’ case may have some teeth to it.  It appears that Google may have trespassed onto the Borings’ property in order to take the picture.  If so, then Google may indeed be in the wrong. 

    Damages, however, are another matter.  Assuming that the Borings’ privacy was violated, it’s hard to see how a picture of their home—which has apparently since been removed by Google—has either devalued their property or caused them mental suffering (which usually has to be severe in order to be compensable).  So if there are damages here, they seem somewhat nominal in nature.  But as any trial attorney knows, when you have either a sympathetic plaintiff or,  as in this case, an unsympathetic defendant (or both),  and a potentially unpredictable jury which may have the ability to award punitive damages, discretion on Google’s part may indeed be the better part of valor.  So perhaps the case will go away quietly.  Until the next one pops up.

     After my post about privacy yesterday, it’s nice to know that there are entrepreneurs out there who seek to make sure that our government—which generally has little problem with how private industry treats and shares our personal information—is as transparent as possible when it comes to its own information.  According to a story in the Washington Post, congressional staffers are outraged by a website, LegiStorm, which posts public information about the financial affairs of senior congressional staffers.       

     Under federal law, congressional staff members who earn more than $110,000 per year are required to file disclosure forms which list, among other things, their detailed financial holdings.  Why shouldn’t such staffers be subject to almost as much scrutiny as their bosses?  If they have the ear of some of the most powerful politicians in the world and serve as their handlers and gatekeepers, it only seems fair that the voters know if their financial interests may perhaps be influencing how their bosses vote on certain issues.  (Like issues involving privacy, for example.)  We sometimes forget that behind any politician is a group of people who write these influential laws.     

     And therein lies the irony:  Congress wrote these disclosure laws to help prevent public corruption and instill a sense of confidence in our public officials.  All staffers are obviously aware of them when they took their jobs.  So disclosure doesn’t seem to be the issue—it is the law, after all—but the dissemination that’s problematic.  Oh well, welcome to the internet age.  If congressional staffers really live in that much of a bubble where they think that they’re somehow exempt from close scrutiny in these politically polarizing times, then perhaps they’re as out of touch as some of the people they advise.         

     But the staffers have some legitimate concerns as well.  Some of the documents, which have since been redacted by the site, reportedly contained social security and bank account numbers.  Given the prevalence and ease of identity theft, this information obviously has to be removed prior to posting.  And if there is an instance of identity theft that can actually be traced back to the site (which is very unlikely), the site could conceivably be held liable.  There is such a thing as being too transparent.  While I may want to know if a staff member for a senator on the Finance Committee has large holdings in Fidelity, I don’t need to know the account numbers.  And we don’t want to dissuade smart, talented, and motivated people from joining the government if every conceivable detail of their financial lives is made public and widely disseminated.  Beyond these obvious concerns, however, sites like LegiStorm may help to keep Big Brother from getting too big . . . at least for a little while.