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