America's Most Dangerous Librarians
NEWS: Meet the radical bookworms who fought the Patriot Act—and won.
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They looked like they had walked off a film set, the two men standing at the door of the Library Connection in Windsor, Connecticut, as they flashed fbi badges and asked to speak to the boss. Director George Christian courteously shepherded them into the office. By the hum of the Xerox machine, one agent explained to Christian that the bureau was demanding "any and all subscriber information, billing information and access logs of any person or entity" that had used computers between 4 p.m. and 4:45 p.m. on February 15, 2005, in any of the 27 libraries whose computer systems were managed by the Library Connection, a nonprofit co-op of library databases. He handed Christian a document called a national security letter (nsl); it said the information was being sought "to protect against international terrorism."
Like a children's librarian during story hour, the agent used his finger to draw Christian's attention to one line in particular: The recipient of the letter could not disclose "to any person that the fbi has sought or obtained access to information or records." It was a lifetime gag order; break it, and he could be looking at five years in jail. "I believe this is unconstitutional," said Christian politely. In response he got a threatening scowl, a business card, and instructions to have his lawyer call the fbi.
Christian did call his lawyer as soon as the agents were gone—and then he called Peter Chase, another library director and member of the Library Connection's executive committee. "Where is the court order?" Chase asked.
"There is none," replied Christian. "They said they didn't need one." Christian was being ordered to turn over records on library patrons simply because an fbi agent had told him to. He called a huddle with the rest of the Library Connection's executive committee, librarians Janet Nocek and Barbara Bailey. There, they passed around the nsl. Their attorney then announced that by virtue of having read the letter, everyone in the room was now bound by its provisions, and therefore gagged. It was as if they'd been exposed to radioactivity. That was the beginning of a yearlong battle pitting the four librarians, barred from speaking publicly and identified in the media only as "John Doe," against the anti-terrorism enforcers of the Bush administration.
National security letters are a little-known fbi tool originally used in foreign intelligence surveillance to obtain phone, financial, and electronic records without court approval. Rarely employed until 2001, they exploded in number after the Patriot Act drastically eased restrictions on their use, allowing nsls to be served by fbi agents on anyone—whether or not they were the subject of a criminal investigation. In 2000, 8,500 nsls were issued; by contrast, between 2003 and 2005 the fbi issued more than 143,000 nsls, only one of which led to a conviction in a terrorism case.
Abuse has also been rampant. An investigation last year revealed that the fbi had broken regulations governing nsls in more than 1,000 cases. Among the violations: failing to get proper authorization, making improper requests under the law, shoddy record keeping, and unauthorized collection of telephone or email records. Such misuse has cast a long-lasting shadow over countless innocent Americans. Even when an investigation is closed, information gained through an nsl is kept indefinitely in the fbi files.
To protect their patrons, the four librarians engaged the national office of the American Civil Liberties Union in New York. They challenged the constitutionality of nsls; they also wanted their gag order lifted so they could participate in the national debate over renewal of the Patriot Act. "People say very confidential things to our reference librarians," explains Chase. "They have medical issues, personal matters. What people are borrowing at a public library is nobody's business."
The first hearing of the Library Connection case took place in federal court in Bridgeport, Connecticut, in August 2005. Government lawyers had declared that the librarians' presence posed a threat to national security (since people might guess their identity), so they were barred from attending, and were only allowed to watch the proceedings on closed-circuit TV. Similarly, when the "John Doe" librarians went to an appeals court hearing in Manhattan, their aclu attorneys instructed the four not to enter the room together so that no one might guess who they were. John Doe New York—an Internet service provider whose case had been joined with the librarians' on appeal—was also in the room, but the librarians did not know who he was.
Being the target of a terrorism investigation and forbidden to talk about it became an increasingly surreal experience. One day Chase's 21-year-old son dashed out of the house to greet him, looking ashen. "Dad, you just got a call from the Associated Press saying the fbi is
investigating you. Is that true? Why haven't you told us?" Chase was unsure how to respond. He didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want to get his son caught up in the nsl mess. "I'm involved in a case," he said slowly and deliberately. "I can't talk about it. And it would be best if you didn't tell anybody about that phone call."
That was in November 2005. The Patriot Act was reauthorized in March 2006. Six weeks later, the Justice Department informed the aclu that it would no longer contest the Connecticut librarians' demand to lift their gag order. The Supreme Court subsequently ordered the Justice Department to unseal the court documents in the case. Among the evidence the government had tried to keep secret were quotes from previous Supreme Court cases; copies of New York Times articles; and the text of the Connecticut law that guarantees the confidentiality of library records. The Justice Department had also sealed arguments made by the aclu attorneys, including this passage: "Now that John Doe's identity has been widely disseminated, the government's sole basis for the gag has wholly evaporated."
In September 2007, a federal court ruled in the case of John Doe New York that the entire national security letter provision of the Patriot Act was unconstitutional. US District Judge Victor Marrero said that secretive nsls are "the legislative equivalent of breaking and entering, with an ominous free pass to the hijacking of constitutional values." The Bush administration has appealed the decision, and John Doe New York remains gagged. But in San Francisco, another librarian has managed to beat an nsl: In May, the fbi withdrew a letter issued to the Internet Archive, a digital library, after a legal challenge brought by the aclu and the Electronic Frontier Foundation. "A miscarriage of justice was prevented here," eff staff attorney Marcia Hofmann said at the time. "The big question is, how many other improper nsls have been issued by the fbi and never challenged?"
Amy Goodman and David Goodman recently cowrote Standing Up to the Madness: Ordinary Heroes in Extraordinary Times.
Photo: Antonin Kratochvil/VII | Cartoon by Steve Brodner

It stands for: "Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism."
I'm sure that was just an innocent slip by the authors and the fine editors of Mother Jones.
Best,
Connie Crosby
http://conniecrosby.blogspot.com
My sister Carolyn was a Librarian ... she passed away in May of '08 - i like to feel she would have stood her ground and not been intimidated by the Goon Squads...
And really it might be ok to reveal ??? as long as it was a two way street with the current Dirty House but it's not a two way street these are fascist pigs.
I feel very sorry for Obama as most of his first term will be spent in cleaning up the mess brought about by the shrub and his fellow fascists.
I always wondered about the names they give to Acts in the US. Somehow the law here in Australia prevents that kind of thing and they mostly have very straight forward names.
It is fascism. It's the surrendering of liberty in the name of security to produce servility.
I wish I had the faith of some of the poster's here in regard to Obama making significant changes in US foriegn and domestic policies. Frankly I don't see it happening. I wish it would. Dear God I wish it would.
Again, it's worth repeating, God bless these librarians. They are true patriots and guardians of the purpose of the Constitution.
If I'm served with an NSL informing me that I have to rat on some (any) person, and cannot tell that person or anyone else what is happening, I might -- might -- respond thusly:
I will immediately tell the "serving" individual that as soon as I'm alone I'll call that person directly and tell them the whole story.
The reason for telling the person serving the letter this, would be to give them the chance to lock me up then and there. If the issue really is serious to the point of national security, they can get me out of the way of their investigation before I compromise it. I can then spend five years working on a book or something, at the expense of the penal system. I hope they put me in the cell next to Lynn Stewart.
If, on the other hand, that NSL is part of the FBI's on-going pattern of unwarranted intrusion into private affairs for no reason, I would expect the "warrant" to be withdrawn immediately. Or I'll call the ACLU about it, and damn the non-disclosure clause.
Taking notes, FBI? Good.
You have only yourselves to blame, after all, if citizens take note of the way you've been trampling on citizen rights. One of the FBI's main credentials in the past -- between fiascos, that is -- has been that everyone knew they were above violating the rights of citizens. The whole NSL episode, while perhaps "excusable" in the first months after 9/11, has been and remains a black mark on the integrity of the FBI.
I will in no way contribute to some other citizen's loss of their right to privacy. It's the duty of everyone who cares about those rights to resist such encroachment in the most direct way possible.