Opinion
SHOHAM GEVA
EDITOR IN CHIEF
CLAIRE BRYAN
AND REGAN DETWILER
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS
LAURA SCHINAGLE
MANAGING EDITOR
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at
the University of Michigan since 1890.
Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s editorial board.
All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, March 16, 2016
O
f all the concerning things
in the world of politics, leg-
islating math has to be one
of the wildest
things
politi-
cians
could
try to get away
with.
Most notori-
ously, a bill in
Indiana penned
back
in
1897,
later
termed
the “Indiana Pi
Bill,” was intro-
duced to make a
certain mathe-
matical method of “squaring the cir-
cle” officially established by law. It’s
no mistake that “squaring the circle”
has become a euphemism for doing
the impossible, because it is, in fact,
impossible. For whatever reason,
someone’s erroneous proof some-
how made it into the legislature,
and if it were to have passed, this
bill would’ve had weird secondary
consequences such as technically
making the value of pi in the state
of Indiana 3.2 by state law. Clear-
ly, mathematical laws saw that’s
impossible.
It’s a ridiculous idea — math can’t
be legislated, as it rests outside the
domain of the law. Perhaps you could
chalk that law up to just to its occur-
rence in the 19th century, but even
today we see direct applications of
mathematics attempted to be legis-
lated, as state legislatures in Califor-
nia and New York have introduced
bills that would ban encryption that
is unbreakable to law enforcement
in personal devices. Taking it a step
further, United Kingdom Prime
Minister David Cameron is on record
as wishing to ban strong encryption
entirely, which elicited responses
from the technical community that
stated Cameron very literally “had
no idea what he was proposing.”
Because at its core, encryption is
simply a widely available application
of mathematics, such that Wikipedia
co-founder Jimmy Wales directly
compared that a ban on encryption
would be like banning a form of
mathematics itself.
Encrypted data is like some secret
code, used to scramble messages or
data in way such that it’s unable to be
read by any unauthorized third party
who does not have the decryption
key. It’s publically available in many
different forms, and when properly
designed using things like large key-
spaces and other cryptographic tech-
niques, the code becomes extremely
hard to crack even with millions of
dollars of computer hardware. In
the realm of technology, it’s used on
individual devices to privatize data,
usually to prevent access by a thief
or other unauthorized party, but is
also applied to communications and
Internet traffic for everyday users
to prevent others from snooping on
their activity. In a nutshell, address-
es starting with “https” encrypt the
transmitted data, while those start-
ing with “http” are unsecured.
It’s a major defense against tools
that are used to commit crimes like
identity theft, which the Depart-
ment of Justice’s Bureau of Justice
Statistics estimates to affect 17.6 mil-
lion Americans a year at a total cost
of $15.4 billion. Along with a right
to privacy, encryption has become
the backbone of safely using devices
on the Internet, but it’s this safe pri-
vacy that has caught the ire of law
enforcement as it prevents them
from accessing possible evidence
from devices used by perpetrators.
The debate between privacy advo-
cates and law enforcement came
to a head this past month when
Apple published a customer let-
ter announcing they would refuse
to comply and fight a court order to
weaken the security on their devic-
es so officials could access a phone
used by one of the suspects in the
San Bernadino shooting case. The
FBI argued it would be a one-time
deal, while Apple in its customer
letter said such an action would cre-
ate dangerous standards that would
undermine the security that pro-
tects all of its customers. While one
should be sympathetic to the cause
of investigators in these cases, Apple
is right.
Since October 2015, government
authorities have also requested
access to 12 other iPhones under the
jurisdiction of the ancient All Writs
Act of 1789. Despite their insistence
on needing Apple’s help, 11 of these
devices run older versions of Apple’s
iOS software with existing public
vulnerabilities that would allow
investigators to extract the data. It
presents the fact that the FBI and
investigators aren’t just looking for
the data: The FBI is looking for a
precedent that would either weaken
encryption or insert some “back-
door” into the encryption that would
allow them access to any phone.
On the surface, it seems OK: The
authorities could only seize your
phone with a warrant, and they’re
the only ones who would be able to
break the encryption. However, such
an ideal is a great risk. It’s already
incredibly difficult to write secure
software, and writing it in a way
such that only the “good guys” can
break through the security is some-
thing that security experts say to be
somewhere in between impossible
and an incredible risk. If there is to
be a solution to this seeming trad-
eoff between rights to privacy and
impedance of investigations, one
that involves weakening the privacy
of everyday consumers and putting
them at risk of attack from nefari-
ous citizens cannot be it. And bills
that go to even greater extents, such
as one being pushed in the United
Kingdom that would force back-
doors in both device and Internet
encryption, would have devastating
effects. Encryption is what makes
so much of using the Internet, com-
puters and smartphones possible.
Weaken it and take it away and
you’ve turned cyberspace into the
wild west, hurting only the every-
day citizens who rely on their tech-
nology every day.
One of the few congressmen with
a background in computer science,
Rep. Ted Lieu (D–Cal.), introduced
a federal bill that would stop states
from instituting their own bans on
the sale of encrypted devices. Such
bans, despite valid public safety
concerns that are the cause for their
introduction, simply aren’t practi-
cal at all, as it’s impossible to stop
the flow of technology through
borders, even in places with strong
laws against it like China does. The
technical
community,
including
behemoths like Microsoft, Google,
Bill Gates and many other figures,
has come out almost unanimously
in support of Apple in this case. The
Department of Justice, in a brief,
even suggested that they could com-
pel Apple to turn over their source
code to the FBI, presenting a scenar-
io where the government itself could
write in the backdoors (like they’ve
already been accused of doing in
many other pieces of software
through the National Security Agen-
cy). The fact that these tech com-
panies could be forced to become
puppets of the justice system to this
extreme should be alarming, and the
technical community sees that.
For now, the courts have sided
with Apple in a similar case, such
that Apple will not have to introduce
exploits in their system available
for use by law enforcement. While
many lawmakers and citizens will
try to see nuance in the issue and say
there must be some middle ground
between privacy and law, there’s
an unfortunate reality that in cases
like these, when it comes to techni-
cal encryption, we’re faced with
an all-or-nothing approach where
introducing backdoors or weaken-
ing standards is not a viable solution.
The cases are tragic, but using them
as emotional catalysts to seize an
opportunity to strengthen investiga-
tive positions in a way that harms the
everyday interactions with technol-
ogy is far more authoritarian than
the situation warrants.
— David Harris can be reached
at daharr@umich.edu
Legislating math
DAVID
HARRIS
Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Caitlin Heenan, Jeremy Kaplan,
Ben Keller, Minsoo Kim, Payton Luokkala, Kit Maher, Madeline Nowicki,
Anna Polumbo-Levy, Jason Rowland, Lauren Schandevel,
Melissa Scholke, Kevin Sweitzer, Rebecca Tarnopol, Ashley Tjhung,
Stephanie Trierweiler, Hunter Zhao
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Race Across Michigan
I
t had been a frantic morning, and there
was no indication that my mind would be
any less frenzied any time soon. After a
three-hour class on North
Campus, I had a window
of roughly 35 minutes to
walk from C.C. Little to my
apartment across campus,
switch my lofty art portfo-
lio for my backpack, maybe
grab a snack before head-
ing out the door and walk
back to Central to get
to my class at 1 p.m. An
emptied coffee thermos
was firmly gripped in my
right hand while my left
was busy ensuring my portfolio — which
is admittedly almost as long as my body —
remained securely in its place as it hung
from my shoulder. The abnormally strong
wind manipulated the movement of both my
portfolio and me as I neared the intersec-
tion for my street.
Admittedly, I tend to tune out entirely by
listening to my iPod whenever I’m walking
somewhere. Yet, at this moment, calls from
across the street drowned out my music,
and I looked to see two men looking at me,
trying to get my attention, laughing and
obnoxiously calling out at me to come over
to their side of the street.
An all-too-familiar uneasiness set in. I
stood there, waiting for the light to change
and frustrated by the fact that the path to
my apartment was going to lead me across
the street and directly in front of them. I
tried to ignore the situation until the signal
changed. Donning a look of indifference, I
tried to pass by quickly and continue on my
way. One tried to ask me a question and, when
I didn’t promptly respond, his companion
expressed disappointment that I apparently
“don’t talk.”
I was swallowing every single word.
No, I didn’t talk, because the potential con-
sequences were too ambiguous, and years of
experience taught me to remain quiet. I con-
tained my frustration until I entered my apart-
ment. My silence and flustered expression as I
walked in immediately signaled to my room-
mate that something was bothering me. As I
turned toward the living room, I shouted for a
brief moment, startling my roommate.
I explained my exasperation, and she
understood and empathized. It wasn’t the
first time either one of us had been cat-called,
and that was the problem. This was far from
the first time. My experience encountering
street harassment began right before I start-
ed college, and since then, these moments
of anxiety and insecurity have grown to be
a common occurrence. Each instance of cat-
calling or street harassment that I encounter
leaves me feeling self-conscious, confused
and frustrated, and I imagine a similar sce-
nario exists for a variety of women.
I complained about the incident to a
friend via text, and he suggested I had
enough emotion and material to write an
article about it. As much as I wanted to, I
dismissed the idea, arguing that I’d written
about this topic too much before. Like I said,
this wasn’t the first time, and I was worried
I’d start to sound redundant and unoriginal.
A few weeks after I had brushed the sug-
gestion aside, I traveled with another friend
for Spring Break. As we were walking along
the street toward the downtown area one
night to grab dinner, a car honked multiple
times as it passed by us. Then another car
full of guys yelled out at us as it drove by. I
jumped slightly as the second car passed, but
my friend remained calm and collected. The
cars were then, of course, a subject of conver-
sation for us while we walked back, but it was
a short discussion.
She and I were both annoyed by the situ-
ation and the guys’ demeaning behavior.
But the matter-of-fact tone we both used
caught my attention. We mentioned the inci-
dent briefly and moved on. It wasn’t novel or
shocking to us. My friend had warned me that
tended to happen to her each year she visited
this particular town for Spring Break.
Our complacent reactions began to bother
me shortly afterward. Street harassment
shouldn’t be so ingrained into a woman’s life
that, to a certain degree, she just expects it,
shrugging it off nonchalantly whenever it
does occur. Why was I so worried about dis-
cussing the topic when it obviously wasn’t
going to dissipate from society any time soon?
According to a 2014 survey conducted by Stop
Street Harassment, 65 percent of women
report experiencing street harassment of
some form. Additionally, 90 percent of the 811
respondents in an online 2008 study encoun-
tered street harassment by the age of 19.
While cat-calling may often be associated
with female victims, it’s certainly not an issue
exclusive to women. Roughly 25 percent of
men reported experiencing street harassment
in the 2014 survey, and of these men, a larg-
er percentage were members of the LGBTQ
community. Those with marginalized iden-
tities are disproportionately harassed and
scrutinized in public, whether for their gen-
der, their race, their sexual orientation, their
religion or their gender identity.
For individuals who experience harassment
on a regular basis, it’s not a joke. It’s certainly
not a compliment. It’s a form of an intimida-
tion and a not-so-subtle way of communicating
that someone doesn’t deserve to feel comfort-
able and safe in the public sphere. There’s
absolutely no reason why anyone should be
subjected to objectification and intimidation
when they’re merely trying to go about their
day. I don’t care what a woman or a man may
be wearing. (Though, taking my experience
into account, I particularly can’t comprehend
how anyone could claim my oversized sweater
and messy ponytail were attempts to attract
attention to myself.)
I write this acknowledging that street
harassment, or cat-calling, is a societal
problem with no easy, immediate solution.
My encounters with this issue began around
the age of 18 and will most likely continue
for many more years to come. For others
from different races, religions and commu-
nities, their experiences may differ vastly in
severity and frequency. Regardless, these
experiences need to be recounted and retold
as frequently as they occur.
Over break, I read essays by Rebecca Sol-
nit, and one section of her essay, “Pandora’s
Box and the Volunteer Police Force,” stood
out to me. She writes, “Saying that every-
thing is fine or that it will never get any bet-
ter are ways of going nowhere or of making
it impossible to go anywhere.”
When my friend first suggested I write
about street harassment, I thought it was
redundant and wouldn’t make anything
better. However, it’s the insistent act of con-
tinually writing and making voices heard
that leads to significant change.
— Melissa Scholke can be reached
at melikaye@umich.edu.
We must share our stories
MELISSA
SCHOLKE
“Encryption is
what makes so
much of using the
Internet, computers
and smartphones
possible.”
O
n Saturday, 65 students,
myself
included,
will
grudgingly leave the warm
confines of our
beds, don running
tights and various
thermal
layers
and quickly pack a
change of clothes
before
heading
out into the cold.
We’ll then meet,
still slightly dis-
oriented, at the
Cube
before
5
a.m. to start the
University
of
Michigan Running Club’s 8th annual
Race Across Michigan.
When I first entered the Uni-
versity in August of 2012, I knew I
wanted to keep running. Through
high school, running provided a
tight-knit community of friends
and a good way to vanquish the
seemingly daunting decisions that
high school students face. Though
I loved the community, I wasn’t
sure that I would continue running
competitively in college. As a reli-
ably mediocre runner who never
entertained the idea of running at
a Division III school, winning the
slow heat at track meets didn’t feed
such a fantasy.
A sub-par coach through high
school further fueled my dissolu-
tion. Through the fortune of never
being injured himself, he expected
that his athletes would remain
injury-free, too. This expecta-
tion, in some respects, created an
unnecessarily
stressful
experi-
ence for our whole team.
During welcome week of my
freshman year, though, another
student piqued my interest in the
Michigan Running Club, MRun for
short. I dithered about first semes-
ter, attending some races and social
events, but not really having my
heart set on the club. At the begin-
ning of my second semester, I heard
about RAM.
Every year, MRun runs 184 miles
across the state of Michigan from
Detroit to South Haven along Michi-
gan Avenue in less than 24 hours. We
run it as a relay, i.e. groups of run-
ners run in 5 to 25 mile shifts. For
the last five years, we have raised
money for the Special Olympics of
Washtenaw County. Though our
event supports an exceptional orga-
nization, it interests me for another
more important reason: It encapsu-
lates the very ethos of MRun.
In the 36 or so hours that we are
together, crammed in University
vehicles, we have a unique and oth-
erwise unequalled opportunity to
better MRun’s community. MRun
includes DI talent to hobby joggers.
We welcome students who want to
train for varsity tryouts, students
who want to get a run in once or
twice a week to stay in shape and
everyone in between. While there
is occasional tension between the
opposite sides of this spectrum
— how couldn’t there be? — each
individual has quirks that make
up the fabric of our club. Everyone
has their unique place in our com-
munity. Our strength lies in our
familiarity with each other and
RAM is an essential building block
of that familiarity.
RAM was where I learned to
unconditionally
appreciate
the
imperfections of MRun. While we
all have different goals in our train-
ing, and all want something differ-
ent from the club, we come together
for the entirety of RAM to work
toward one goal: to safely traverse
the state of Michigan as a team.
Throughout RAM, each partici-
pant goes through differing levels
of intense affection and distaste for
each other. Though we are tired,
both mentally and physically, and
by 3 a.m. mostly just asleep, the fact
that we manage to complete RAM
is not only a testament to our indi-
vidual endurance, but the power of
shared resolve among what MRun
truly is: a family.
— Danny Sack can be reached
at sackd@umich.edu.
DANNY
SACK
E-mail annE at asturpin@umich.Edu
ANNE TURPIN