Apple v. Department of Justice

The United States government has called for Apple to break its own encryption, and when Apple refused to do so, the Justice Department lashed out in a way that it hoped would make Apple seem petty, ridiculous, and greedy: they said that Apple's decision to resist the court order was a mere issue of branding.

The really silly part is that the US seems to think that was ever in question. 

Let's have a quick little reality check: our government has developed a habit of whining whenever the pursuit and prosecution of criminal activity is not made easier. It is not their job to swiftly and summarily round up and process US citizens—criminal or not. It's our justice system's duty to shift the painful mountains of inconsequential evidence and dig deeper. It is not supposed to be easy work. That's where the "process" part of "due process" comes into play. 

So already, we should be wary of any claim by our DoJ that Apple is being somehow traitorous in striving for better quarterly earnings; it is not by any means Apple's duty to make the prosecution's job easier, or quicker, or somehow "more right". It is, rather, Apple's duty to protect its shareholders and its customer base, to support their own claims on the technologies they circulate, and to consistently advocate for those of us without the bank accounts of a rather well-off nation backing us. This is "branding", no question: Apple wants to establish itself as a privacy-minded company in a world where privacy is, was, or has become a prized commodity (and one to be jealously guarded from an all-sides assault). There is nothing—whatosever—wrong with the company's wishes to resist this court order. They have legal precedence in their corner, as well as the public opinion of anyone who's ever googled the word "encryption". The families of victims have their own right to cry out in anguish and perhaps even that pointless dead-end anger, but why they're turning their fury on Apple... is a mystery that is frankly beyond me.

After all, if our government decides that it is utmost to our national security that we get around this Apple encryption... they should already have teams of software engineers, the best and the brightest, serving their country, hammering away at it. If the US does not hire the best and the brightest to handle something they consider to be of paramount importance, that's not Apple's fault—or Google's, or Facebook's, or Snapchat's—that fault lays squarely at the feet of the United States government.

If there was ever a more potent symbol of the inefficienty and inefficacy of our government than this cry for help and the petulance that's come after, I'm having a hard time nailing it down. Our government: the government that built Oak Ridge, the government that put men on the moon, the government that killed Osama bin Ladin, has failed to access a locked phone. And instead of applying its own resources to the task at hand—one they apparently find incredibly important, critical to the case against the shooters in San Bernadino and perhaps a key in discovering the roots of their terrorist network—they are trying to slough off that responsibility and, while doing so, claim that it's just not fair that Apple made it so hard. And for the government! Shouldn't Apple be ashamed?

Let's take one more quick step back for another reality check: one that's even less pleasant—one that is probably far closer to the heart of this issue. That reality check? Our government put people on the moon. It might not be able to process taxes, but the idea that they can't get around iPhone encryption is silly, plain and simple. Which suggests that the phone has already been unlocked, and the data within accessed—but the discovery was improper, and the information they gleaned can't legally be used in court or to start a more serious investigation into the possible commanders of this two-person cell. So perhaps the DoJ is looking for Apple's help so that it can properly enter this evidence into court proceedings... Or, perhaps, there's slightly more sinister theatre running in front of the curtain.

Apple and others on Apple's side have been quite clear about the far-reaching implications of unlocking this single iPhone. There is no single "key": the tools used to break the encryption of this iPhone would then be available to break the encryption of every single iPhone, and there would be legal precedence for the government applying pressure and expecting Apple to fall in line quickly in any prosecution involving iPhone data. This precedence would reach beyond iPhones, beyond Apple, meaning with the stroke of a pen, "encrypting personal data" would become a completely meaningless concept. Don't get me wrong: most likely, it's already a moot point, and the tools to access encrypted data are already afloat among the braintrusts of the electronic world. But now, we have the intention of encryption, and therefore the legal footing to say, "We encrypted this data, which is the equivalent of locking a drawer full of papers: if you break into my phone, it's the equivalent of breaking into that drawer and rifling around." With a ruling against Apple, that intention of encryption goes out the window: openly, and probably with no small celebration by law enforcement officials that their job has gotten that much "easier".

With a ruling against Apple, the story that we tell ourselves about protecting our data is irrevocably changed: it's not that anything electronic is particularly safe right now, but at least we post and save and text with some reasonable expectation that if we lock our phones up tight, someone trying to imprison us will have to follow established laws to enter evidence from our phones into court.

With a ruling against Apple, those established laws are rendered meaningless—and, somehow, we have "patriots" calling for Apple to WILLINGLY AND OPENLY break its own encryption, shoot itself and the people of this planet squarely in the private foot, and make—prosecution—easier.

That's leaving completely to one side that if state actors have access to these keys, then so will rogue actors, leaving iPhones and other locked electronics and encryption systems open to attack.  

Note to the Department of Justice: your job is not meant to be easy. Note to Apple: ask why the most powerful government on the planet can't seem to recruit greater minds than a company that once named its desktop computers after fruit. Note to all of us: make sure you see past the actions and into the implications—and don't let any of these players off the hook so easily.