video surveillance aff
1ac
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The use of video surveillance cameras in public spaces is spreading rapidly across
American cities
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
The courts and legal thinkers of Padgett's time did not carefully examine the effectiveness of such protections, and there was little
reason to worry about this question in 1949, when nothing remotely like "past-tracing" technology played a significant part in their
day-to-day lives. But the challenge outlined in this story is a more pressing concern now. While the physics of Padgett's imagined
world have remained firmly in the realm of fiction (there are no hidden video recordings encoded in wood, stone, or soil), its privacyeroding technology is not all that far from becoming reality. Walls, lampposts, and trees do not function as
natural video cameras, but new technologies allow public authorities to line them with artificial
ones. A growing number of communities throughout the world are doing so on a massive
scale . The United Kingdom has led the way. Cameras now encircle the center of London in a
"ring of steel," photographing the license plate and driver of every vehicle that enters.11 A massive video surveillance system
also watches the interior of the city.12 Other British cities-according to one count, at least 440 in all13-have also covered whole
American cities are rapidly following suit.
Although most residents and visitors of New York remain oblivious to them, thousands of
video cameras ,14 many "indistinguishable from lampposts ," sit above parks and streets
throughout the city and on the campuses of schools and universities.15 The City of Baltimore has
installed cameras at "all 106 downtown intersections" and in its Inner Harbor area.16 The Washington,
D.C. police department operates cameras that watch over downtown streets, subways, parks, and other
public spaces and has plans to substantially expand its video surveillance system in the near future.17 Chicago has recently
joined the list of major cities installing cameras over public streets,18 and other American cities
are doing so as well.19
The cameras now proliferating in urban spaces are in many respects far more powerful
than the video cameras of the past. Most can quickly pan, tilt, or rotate 360 degrees at the
command of a far-away control room.20 They can isolate an individual in a business district or
subway station, zoom in on him, and scrutinize facial expressions, movements, even reading
materials in close detail .21 They often work not as isolated units, but as components of an
integrated network of cameras that sends information from many different parts of the city back
to a common observation center, which can then analyze the data as a whole or follow a person
as he moves from one part of the city to another.22 The digitization of video images and tremendous expansions in
neighborhoods and business districts with cameras.
computer memory have made it possible for operators to store substantial amounts of visual data and retrieve and search this data
when they have a desire to view it.23
In fact, the technology being developed today may one day go beyond the science fiction analogy. Detectives in Padgett's world had
comprehensive records of images in video archives. Investigators in our own world have methods of
connecting those images to identities and other information beyond what the camera
shows . Using facial recognition software, investigators might quickly match a face to a specific
name and then (with the aid of other databases) to that person's "medical history, tax records, criminal
arrest records, voting records, political affiliations, and any other conceivable type of
information."24 Under such a surveillance regime , each life might become not merely an
electronic "open book," but an "open web site," which investigators can use not only to rewind or
fast-forward through large portions of a person's history, but to link to extensive data on (and
perhaps visual recordings of) that person's colleagues, the organizations she belongs to, and various
discussions or references regarding her that take place in her absence.25
That infringes upon basic privacy rights – video surveillance causes anxiety and
precludes autonomy
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
Such evidence, of course, has always been there for neighbors or strangers to see (and perhaps to spy on), but modern
video
surveillance now makes it possible (and potentially quite simple) for government to locate, gather, and
store it en masse. Where we might have previously expected most of these interactions to exist only in people's memory if
anywhere at all (and to fade soon afterwards), video surveillance allows officials to create permanent records
of them that might be accessed years after they occur. Such records present a deep threat to core
liberty and privacy interests in a number of ways.
First, camera systems that capture all aspects of our public lives are likely (for the reasons given above) to
sweep in some important elements of our "intimate" lives: elements of a person's medical
condition, for example, or about personal relationships. According to many scholars, such intimate
activities are precisely what privacy rights exist to protect . They exist, says James Rachels,
to guard against the disclosure of "the sort of intimate fact about you that it is not appropriate
for strangers or casual acquaintances to know."303 Video surveillance circumvents this safeguard by making an
anonymous camera operator privy (in some degree) to facts that we would otherwise reveal only to our doctor, therapist, or family
member. As Charles Fried argues, privacy "forms the necessary context for the intimate relations of love and friendship," and "where
any intimate revelation may be heard by monitoring officials, it loses the quality of exclusive intimacy required of a gesture of love or
friendship."304 Second, even where camera networks do not capture such intimate facts, they threaten core privacy interests. By
severely undercutting our informational privacy-that is our ability to withhold certain facts
about ourselves from others-such surveillance undermines one of the central conditions of personal autonomy
in modern societies. We are not, of course, able to mandate what people will think about what we say and do. Nor can we force
others to avert their eyes when they see us. But, by taking account of others' presence and taking advantage of the many
opportunities that modern life offers for anonymous or private action, we can "manage" this image and exert significant control over
the appearance we present to others.
This autonomy is valuable for many individuals as an end in itself, but it is also valuable as an
essential aid to many other core individual interests, most notably the interest in finding a
way of life that fits one's needs and values . As Alan Westin has observed, individuals need
environments for "sheltered experimentation" where they can address vulnerabilities they
would rather not reveal to others and where they can explore interests and think through
ideas that might be at odds with their public persona or with expectations of acquaintances,
friends, or public officials.305 While the home provides the most obvious site for such "sheltered experimentation," it is
not the only such site and is in many circumstances not the most important site. On the contrary, many of the resources essential for
individuals to address vulnerabilities or to rethink existing ideas are available only if they venture into public life, to places such as
libraries, religious centers, clinics, or stores. And we are used to being able to access these resources without the rest of the world, or
public authorities, tracking our every use of them.306
Third, even where a person does not worry about a particular action being observed in isolation, such actions may reveal private
thoughts or goals when viewed in the aggregate. For example, an individual might have a confidential career
ambition, an idea for a novel, or a deep anxiety about certain issues, the nature of which will
become clear only to an observer who can collect various pieces of evidence of a person's life and
put them together in a way that would be impossible outside a world of general video
surveillance. In the past, the best place to get access to a comprehensive picture of a person's interests was his home, where one
might find records pertaining to many different aspects of his family life, work life, health, and personal interests. With ubiquitous
video recorders, such a comprehensive picture might be pieced together from data gathered from outside the home as well.307
Not only would officials be able to watch and record acts of dissent or experimentation, facial recognition and modern databases
allow them to immediately link these acts to a name and identity .
We not only lose our privacy, but our
anonymity . This loss would have consequences for freedom of expression and association, and the Supreme Court itself has
noted this outside of the Fourth Amendment context. For example, in NAACP v. Alabama, the Court forbade the State of Alabama
from compelling the NAACP to disclose its membership lists, and it stressed the "vital relationship between freedom to associate and
privacy in one's associations."308 In McIntyre v. Ohio Elections Commission, it struck down an Ohio law prohibiting the
distribution of anonymous campaign literature and took note of "a respected tradition of anonymity in the advocacy of political
causes."309 Most recently, in Watchtower Bible and Tract Society of New York, Inc. v. Stratton, the Court declared unconstitutional
a town law requiring those who wish to canvass door-to-door to first identify themselves in a permit application filed with the
mayor's office and made available for public inspection.310 In all of these cases, the government would not have needed to request
information about the identities of group members, pamphleteers, or canvassers if it could simply review video records of their
activities and match their images with faces and names in a biometric database. Just as it would be a strange result if technological
"wizardry" enabling the government to see through walls could free it entirely from "the restraints mandated by the Fourth
Amendment,"311 it would be odd if new visual surveillance and biometric technology allowed the government to simply take the
information that the First Amendment forbids it from requiring people to provide.312
Fourth, it is not merely the continuing observation of activities that undercuts privacy, but to an
even greater degree, the ongoing recording of these activities. As Jeffrey Rosen notes, one of the
distinctive features of modern America is the opportunity it gives individuals to " redefine and
reinvent themselves every day" and "travel from place to place without showing their
papers and being encumbered by their past ."313 Such freedom cannot exist if individuals
might at any time be confronted with a perfect record from a long-ago event. Indeed, the prospect
of such a confrontation is likely to be unsettling even for those not interested in transforming
their personae. Central to a free society is the individual's sense that she will not
have to justify her every action and expression to a government official. Making a
record of activity for later review undermines this sense. It creates conditions making it far more
likely that an individual will be challenged, years after the fact, with an event or statement that he
might regret, or which-as a result of unpredictable developments in his own life or in the course
of public events-places him in a new, deeply unflattering light. The creation of such a visual
record of a person's life is likely to cause anxiety not only because the government might view
it, but because once a record exists, then rivals, acquaintances, friends, colleagues, or potential
employers might one day view it too.314 To the extent recording threatens to greatly expand the potential audience for
every thing we say or do, notes Canadian Justice Gerard LaForest, it "annihilates the very important right to choose the range of our
listeners [and watchers]."315
Video surveillance masculinizes urban space by becoming a mechanism for active
male harassment—women’s bodies become objects of enjoyment for the male gaze
Koskela 2 senior lecturer in the Department of Geography, University of Helsinki,finland
(Hille, Urban Geography, “Video Surveillance, Gender, and the Safety of Public Urban Space:
"Peeping Tom" Goes High Tech?” 2002, p. 263 – 5)
Disorder and Harassment However, there are also other more complicated features of gender structures. Beyond the positions that women and men
occupy are gendered social practices. Women are constantly reminded that an invisible observer is a threat . In
crime prevention advice, for example, women are recommended to keep their curtains tightly closed whenever it might be possible for someone outside
could see inside (Gardner, 1995). This potential observer is presented as male. In addition, video
surveillance is sometimes
interpreted as a part of “male policing in the broadest sense” (Brown, 1998, p. 217). The “masculine culture” of
those who are “in control” is causing mistrust toward surveillance: women do not rely on those
behind the camera because of the reproduction of patriarchal power by the guards and the police
who are responsible for the daily routine of surveillance (e.g., Wajcman, 1991; Fyfe, 1995; Herbert, 1996). Furthermore,
surveillance in practice is insensitive to issues that would be of particular importance to women. Video is unable to identify
situations where a sensitive interpretation of a social situation is needed. Namely, the overseers
responsible for surveillance easily remark on clearly seen but otherwise minor offenses, such as someone smoking a cigarette in a metro station, while
ignoring more serious situations which they regard as ambivalent—such as verbal sexual
harassment (Koskela, 2000a). Most cameras are unable to interpret threatening situations, which are not visually
recognizable, and cases of harassment are therefore left without notice. In some cases video surveillance is used as a
replacement for personal policing. By using a surveillance camera sexual harassment is more
difficult to identify and to interrupt than by the police or guards patrolling by foot. Alcohol related
disturbances are also often not considered to be serious enough to be interrupted by the overseers. Hence, as Sheila Brown (1998, p. 218) writes, “CCTV
cannot change the general intimidation, verbal harassment, staring, and drunken rowdiness amongst groups of men which constrains women’s
movement most strongly.” This insensitivity of the cameras—their restriction to thefield of vision—is an urgent reason for doubt and disorientation.
Again,
this is not to argue that harassment only concerns women: class, race, sexual orientation,
age, or other factors can also be “motives” for verbal harassment. Sexual harassment (of women) is one of a
number of related problems. Peeping Tom Goes High-Tech The insensitivity of surveillance cameras is not all that
there is in question. This insensitivity can be understood as a “passive” relation between surveillance and
harassment. However, there is also a concept, which could be understood as an “active” relation between surveillance and harassment (Koskela,
2000a). It has been shown that there is public concern about the “potential ‘Peeping Tom’ element” of
surveillance cameras (Honess and Charman, 1992), that women are worried about possible “ voyeurism” (Trench, 1997; Brown, 1998), and
that cameras placed in spaces of any intimate nature irritate women (Koskela, 1999). Indeed, it is possible to use
surveillance cameras as an actual means of harassment. Scrutiny is a common and effective form of harassment (Gardner, 1995). There is some
voyeuristic fascination in looking, in being able to see. In urban space women are likely to be the ones who are looked at, the objects of the gaze
(Massey, 1994). Moreover, voyeurism itself has been defined as a characteristic that is solely male. As Carol Brooks Gardner (1995) pointed out, in the
United States until the sexual equality legislation voyeurism and peeping were legally defined as offenses that only men could commit. The offensive
gaze belonged only to men. Arguably, the
female body is still an object of a gaze in different way than
the male body. Women’s appearance is public information addressed “to whom it may
concern” (Gardner, 1995, p. 23). Women are placed to be constantly objects of a gaze. This also applies to their being viewed through a
surveillance camera. An anecdote, which illustrates this well, is an advertisement of a majorfinnish department store Stockmann
that lately announced above some pictures of latest women’s fashion: “ You perform for the surveillance cameras every
day. Are you dressed for it?” The phrase was placed to sell classy women’s dresses. It well described how women are the objects of the
gaze. Women are used to constantly policing their appearances in public space and searching for an outfit which is suitable for each particular situation
(Gardner, 1995). However, rhetoric such as the one presented above, indicates that women
are not only gazed by people on the
street but also by the hidden gazes behind the camera. One of the very reasons for women’s insecurity
is their “exaggerated visibility” (Brown, 1998). Paradoxically, women are marginalized by being at the
center (of the looks) (cf. Rose, 1993). Used by an abuser, a “look” can be a weapon. Surveillance can be a way of
reproducing and reinforcing male power. It is “opening up new possibilities for harassment and
stalking” (Ainley, 1998, p. 92). Since the gender structure of the persons positioned on each side of the camera is as described above, there is a
temptation to (mis)use surveillance for voyeuristic purposes. Little by little, incidents come up which reveal exactly the kind of abuse by the cameras
that women are most worried about. Leisure
centers with male control operators have been observed to have
cameras placed in women’s changing rooms. Operators have been caught in using surveillance
cameras to spy on women and then making obscene phone calls to them from the control room. Police
officers have been reprimanded for improper voyeuristic use of surveillance cameras. Real and
manipulated images from the surveillance system—including sex acts and other intimate contacts—have been
edited onto tapes for commercial purposes, as was the case in Britain in 1996. (Goulding, 1996; Davies, 1997; Steinhardt, 1999).
In 1997 a piece of news circulated around Scandinavia which shocked and irritated women (e.g., Helsingin Sanomat, 1997). It had been discovered that
Swedish conscript solders had been “entertaining” themselves in summer 1997 by monitoring women on a beach near their navy base. They had
videotaped topless women, printed pictures of them, and hung these pictures on the walls of their barracks. Since the cameras used were meant for
military purposes, they were of extremely high quality and, therefore, the pictures were quite explicit. This case, now being investigated as a crime,
showed a glaring example of gendered abuse of surveillance cameras. A comparable but perhaps even more abusive incident has been documented in
Australia. Jean Hillier (1996, p. 99) described the course of events in summer 1994 at Burswood Casino where security camera operators had misused
their access to control equipment: The gendered case of male
operators monitoring cameras located in women’s
toilets and artistes’ changing rooms, as well as in the car parks and main body of the Casino, had zoomed in on images
of women’s exposed breasts, genital areas and buttocks, together with couples fondling each
other or having sex, generally “hidden” behind large indoor plants, and a woman urinating in the car park. Individual sequences from the
four-year period had been edited onto one tape and shown locally at house parties by the operator(s) responsible. The story went under a headline
It was followed by a
widespread debate on surveillance, its legal and moral aspects, as well as on the blurring boundaries between
public and private space and activities. The setting was also clearly gendered. It showed that there is a possibility of
gendering of surveillance and control, and that surveillance can be used as an active instrument for harassment.
Because of this possible “active” role in harassment, surveillance reproduces the embodiment
and sexualization of women, and contributes to the process of masculinization of space.
“rape by camera” in local newspapers, and, according to Hillier (1996, p. 100), “caused major public outrage in Perth.”
This masculinization of urban space establishes a cultural of visual control that
maintains racial and gendered hierarchies while and perpetuating gender violence
and sexual harassment
Koskela 5 senior lecturer in the Department of Geography, University of Helsinki (Hille, A
Companion to Feminist Geography, “Urban Space in Plural: Elastic, Tamed, Suppressed” p. 263
– 7, 2005) | js
The third theme I discuss here – namely, video surveillance – is a response to fear. In most Western cities, visual
control is increasingly being seen as a solution to the problem of insecurity. In city after city, surveillance cameras are
now part of the ordinary “architecture of fortification” which “braces the structures from the
threat of a supposedly violent other” (Epstein, 1997, p. 139), and visual control has become a
permanent condition. Surveillance can be used for reinforcing the “purifi- cation” and
“homogenization” processes of urban space (Davis, 1990; Mitchell, 1995; Ellin, 1997). It is also feared to
have a negative “chilling effect” on urban life – to suppress urban space . Until recently, not much
attention was paid to the emotional aspects of surveillance nor to the complex relationship between security, surveillance
technology, and gender (see, however, Ainley, 1998; Brown, 1998; Koskela, 2000, 2002). Gender relations are by no means the only
dimensions of power within this practice. Instead, gender is one example of the many forms of power associated with surveillance.
Indeed, surveillance is used to monitor and exclude “suspicious youths,” political activists, people of color, sexual minorities, or
people generally who look as though they cannot afford to “consume” (e.g. Judd, 1995; Lees, 1998). Visual appearance
forms the basis for prejudice: urban visual control is “ ridden with racism and sexism”
(Graham, 1998, p. 491), and concern for its misuse cuts across age, class, race, and gender. Where gender comes into this picture is
not simple or straightforward. On the one hand, since the purpose of surveillance is to increase safety, and since women are known
to be the ones who are most often afraid, surveillance might be especially beneficial for women. In this way , surveillance
might facilitate women’s access to urban space and to the resources and benefits of urbanity. If video surveillance is
able to deter violent crime – even a minor part of it – it can be considered as worth it. But, on the other hand, surveillance
includes multiple power relationships intertwined with “looking” and the field of vision. To put it simply:
for most women, urban harassment is a common reason for fear; scrutiny is a common form of
harassment; and (remote) surveillance is an increasingly common form of scrutiny. Surveillance
will increase rather than diminish the “exaggerated visibility” of women – the visibility of
women to an unseen and remote voyeur. The politics of looking inevitably extends the issue of surveillance beyond
the crime prevention debate. The variety of women’s attitudes to video surveillance ranges from favorable and trusting to strongly
opposed.3 When being monitored, women can feel embarrassed, uneasy, guilty without a reason,
irritated or angry – and even fearful. But they may also think that if the cameras are exploited properly, they can
prevent crime and, thus, make the city safer. The emotional experience of being under surveillance is often ambivalent or mutable.
A surveillance camera can make one feel safe but then, all of a sudden, change to be “a sign of danger.”
Surveillance appears to evoke collateral positive and negative feelings. Under urban surveillance, women can simultaneously feel
more secure and more fearful (Koskela, 2002). The “emotional space” that surveillance creates is unstable,
nebulous and unpredictable – “like a liquid” (Koskela, 2000, p. 259). The act of surveillance is loaded with gendered
social practices. Surveillance could be interpreted as a part of “ male policing in the broadest sense”
(Brown, 1998, p. 217). The “masculine culture” of urban video surveillance is causing mistrust: often
women do not rely on those behind the camera because of the reproduction of patriarchal power
by the guards and the police responsible for and in control of surveillance (e.g. Wajcman, 1991; Fyfe,
1995; Herbert, 1996). The surveillance systems “tend to inflate stereotypes” in the minds of the observers (Lyon, 2001, p.
63). The overseers bring along not only their professional skills and experience but also their emotions, preferences, prejudices,
and social habits. Their observations about what the monitor shows are the result of their interpretation of the cultural codes they
are aware of. They overlook things for which they do not have a ready knowledge or understanding. The
interpretation of what the camera shows depends on the viewer. Surveillance is insensitive to
issues that are of particular importance to women – it is largely unable to identify situations where a sensitive
interpretation of social interaction is needed. Under surveillance, social contact is reduced to the
visual. Surveillance embodies and magnifies the power of the visual; its meaning overpowers other senses.
Therefore, the ordinary in-passing verbal street harassment women routinely face is unobserved (Koskela, 2002). Alcohol-related
disturbances are also often considered – from the perspective of the overseers – not to be serious enough to be interrupted.
Surveillance is not able to “change the general intimidation, verbal harassment, staring, and
drunken rowdiness amongst groups of men which constrains women’s movement most
strongly” (Brown, 1998, p. 218). This insensitivity can be understood as a “passive” relation between surveillance and
harassment. However, there is also an “active” relation (see Koskela, 2000). It has been shown that there is considerable concern
among women about the “potential ‘Peeping Tom’ element” of surveillance cameras (Honess and Charman, 1992; Koskela, 2002).
Women are worried that surveillance extends the reach of male “voyeurism” (Trench, 1997; Brown, 1998), and that cameras are
placed in spaces of any intimate nature (Koskela, 1999). Indeed, it is possible to use surveillance cameras as an actual means of
harassment. There is some voyeuristic fascination in looking, in being able to see – especially
without being seen (Ainley, 1998). Moreover, voyeurism itself is generally identified as a masculinist characteristic. Arguably,
in Western – and other – cultures, the female body is placed to be an object of a gaze in a far different sense than is the male body.
An anecdote, which illustrates this well, is an advertisement of a major Finnish department store, Stockmann, that lately announced
above some pictures of the latest women’s fashion: “You perform for the surveillance cameras every day. Are you dressed for it?”
Now, urban women are gazed on not only by men on the street but also by the hidden (male) gazes behind the camera. Used by an
abuser, a “look” can be a weapon. Surveillance
can be a way of reproducing and reinforcing male
power. The gaze of a surveillance camera is “calculated to exclude ” (Munt, 1995). A camera
represents total one-way-ness of the gaze by making it impossible to look back. One may see the
camera but eye contact with it is impossible. There is no “mutual” gaze. It would be ridiculous to flirt with a surveillance
camera. Its objects are constantly seen but with no possibility of “responding to” or “opposing” the gaze. One can only be the
observed, not the observer. Surveillance
is “opening up new possibilities for harassment and
stalking” (Ainley, 1998, p. 92). Furthermore, it does not replace or erase other forms of embodied
objectification: women still encounter harassment and objectifying attitudes in face-to-face contacts. Surveillance can
be understood as the “reembodiment” of women, as “an extension of male gaze”; surveillance
reproduces the sexualisation of women, and contributes to the process of masculinisation
of space. There is accumulating evidence of exactly the kind of voyeuristic use of surveillance cameras that women are most
worried about (in greater detail see, for example, Hillier, 1996; Koskela, 2002). There are countless stories of male operators who
have been observed spying on women, or of cameras placed in women’s changing rooms. Real and manipulated images
from surveillance systems have been edited onto tapes for commercial purposes. Individual sequences
from intimate surveillance has been edited onto (pornographic) tapes to be shown at house parties. Surveillance is about the
“regulation of bodily and other visible activities” (Hannah, 1997, p. 171). Being conscious of being
controlled can lead to the internalization of control (Foucault, 1977, 1980). What ensures discipline
simultaneously erodes confidence. Also, unverifiability is a crucial dimension for maintaining power. While
everything and everybody under vigilance is becoming more visible, the forces behind this are
becoming less so. It is impossible to infer whether there is somebody looking at you at a particular moment or not. The public
is “under surveillance,” but by invisible unknown persons in an unknown place. The camera is reduced – as per the
idea of the Panopticon – to be just “the gaze,” a depersonalized and distant overseer (Foucault,
1980). Consequently, the camera renders the monitored persons as passive, potential victims
(Koskela, 2002, p. 268). It treats them as objects and does not increase their feeling of being “in control,” but
places them “under control.” Although Foucault in his interpretations of the Panopticon prison was not focusing on gender
issues, in contemporary urban space this element is pervasive and prominent. Surveillance contributes to perpetuating the
existing imbalance in gender relations rather than challenging it. What must not be forgotten, however, is
that control is never completely hegemonic: “power is always contaminated with resistance” (Robinson, 2000, p. 68). Surveillance
can be turned to “counter-surveillance,” to a weapon for those who are oppressed, and “used by women for their own ends” (Ainley,
1998, p. 92). An example of this was recently given in Finland by a woman who had experienced violence and used surveillance to
protect herself. She had to prove that the offender had violated the restraining order given by the court, and installed a surveillance
camera on her own front door to catch him on tape. Indeed, gender relations can be turned upside down. By examining the issues of
gender and surveillance it is possible to increase understanding of the interacting emotional and power-related processes that play a
role in producing space. Space is produced both “behind” and “in front of” a surveillance camera, as well as in the virtual
environments of cyberspace. Ever-increasing surveillance will challenge us to reconstruct our notions of space. Surveillance is likely
to change some conventional concepts: re-evaluation of the concepts of presence and absence, hiding and revealing, reality and
truth, the vagueness of the images, the significance of the visual, etc. While visual images are loaded “with the promise of reality”
(Groombridge, 2002, p. 38), it is clear that the “reality” of a surveillance camera tape is a social product:
“surveillance does not find knowledge, but creates it” (Allen, 1994, p. 144). In urban space the ostensible aim of
surveillance is to make space more accessible and available to different groups. However, if surveillance is used to
exclude “the Other,” as it arguably has been, it can also be seen as making space “less public.” It
is not “opening up public spaces” (Lyon, 2001, p. 135) but creates predetermined, calculated,
and rigid urban space – a suppressed space.
Specifically, cameras enable sexual harassment and voyeurism --- exploitation by
male operators outnumbers protective surveillance by 5 to 1
Wattis 5 Senior Lecturer in Criminology at the School of Social Sciences, Business & Law at
Teesside University (Louise, “The Techno-flâneur: Tele-erotic re-presentation of women’s life
spaces,” Community Informatics: Shaping Computer-Mediated Social Networks, p. 257, 2005)
According to Coleman and Sim (I998). the approach to crime-control of which CCTV is part emphasises
the risks
associated with public space. ignoring the less obvious private dangers as well as more 'subtle' forms
or harassment which take place within public spaces This originates from the ability or the dominant
masculine crime-control discourses to define what counts as risk and danger and to define the
social settings which represent potential risks to the safety or individuals. However. research has found
that. even where behaviour transgresses 'subtler' forms of harassment and it is obvious to CCTV
that a woman has been attacked or suffered physical abuse. male operators do not take
incidents seriously. According to Norris and Armstrong (1999) public incidents or domestic violence were
treated with amusement rather than concern and CCTV operators demon- strated attitudes towards domestic
violence similar to those within police occupational culture. The authors found that the 'protectional gaze' of the
camera in relation to women was virtually non-existent. Lesser acts of violence perpetrated between men
appeared to arouse more action from operators: women stimulated more interest as sexualised objects of the
voyeuristic 'male gaze'. CCTV also fosters a male gaze in the more conventional and voyeuristic
sense. with it's pan-tilt and zoom facilities the thighs and cleavages or the scantily clad are an
easy target for those male operators so motivated. lndeed. 10 per cent or all targeted surveillances on women.
and 15 per cent of operator initiated surveillance were for apparently voyeuristic reasons outnumbering
protective surveillance by 5 to 1. (Norris and Armstrong I998: I29) Our own experience of the CCTV
centre we visited reinforced the above findings. A distinct lack or protective concerns and
voyeuristic tendencies towards women amongst male CCTV operators was also
apparent within our own research. Our findings demonstrate that. although female operators displayed an
acknowledgement or the subject's right to privacy and were unwilling to 'zoom in' on individuals for
no apparent reason, male operators were more than willing to do so. The two male operators. when
asked to put the camera on the street where one young woman lived. zoomed in as close as the camera eye
could get following the young girl's mother down the street.
operators
Camera surveillance enables a perfection of the neoliberal management of urban
spaces: cameras overwhelmingly enable sexual harassment and the violent
policing of ethnic and racial groups marked as a threat to the social order
Coleman 4 [Roy, Liverpool John Moores University, “Images from a neoliberal city: The state,
surveillance, and social control,” Critical Criminology 12: 21–42, 2004] //khirn
Within neoliberal strategies for order, CCTV is central to a strategy of denial in the urban form . The
rhetoric of “rolling back the state” – a feature of 1980s neoliberal ideology – has moved on to an era of “roll out neoliberalism” (Peck
and Tickell 2002: 389) that, through intensified social surveillance and authoritarian statehood, is attempting to cast a veil over the
Camera surveillance manages both
the idealized urban order and its discontents. This means that a range of urban social
problems such as popular protest, homelessness, street trading, and petty
violations of local laws are – through the eye of a street camera – divorced from any
meaningful social context, and instead are defined through the language of crime and disorder.
What needs to be acknowledged is that cameras overwhelmingly focus on the street, or more accurately
street people, and thus reinforce hegemonic definitions of risk, crime and harm as emanating
solely from powerless and disaffected people. Any irresponsible actions and social harms propagated by the
harmful social consequences of neoliberalisms’ more destructive moments.
directors of neoliberal strategies and other corporate actors8 are thus further inoculated by the selective use of the camera networks
they have established. These two points concerning denial are particularly important when set against the fact that footage from
street cameras regularly provide the material for cops and robbers TV entertainment shows,
reinforcing within the public mind ideas about crime, law, and social (dis)order. As surveillance
cameras routinely monitor the street prohibitions (not all of them strict legal infractions) of the
neoliberal city, they also reinforce the moral codes, intolerances, and normative
prescriptions of its creators. The surveillance of neoliberal spaces reflect an intolerance to politics that is bound up
with an attempt to deny overt political expression by local citizenry, particularly if critical of the neoliberal agenda itself. The
strategy to depoliticize space reflects the ideological underpinnings of partnership . From the Urban
Development Corporations in the Thatcher era and the sprouting of BIDS in the Reagan/Bush years, to the ThirdWay of the
Clinton/Blair successions, partnerships have assumed the guise of technical and neutral players in the urban scene; dispensing with
red tape (i.e., earlier and outmoded democratic forms of decision making) and delivering the goods (the goods usually being
gentrified spaces and headline-grabbing architectural gestures). The perception of these spaces as orderly, clean
and safe is integral to the realization of profits. These strategic spaces strictly curtail and police
demonstrations, leafleting, and picketing which threatens the contrived retail carnival
atmosphere. The idea of public space as an arena for collective debate to do with rights and
entitlements is being eroded in this postjustice city (Mitchell 2001). If, in principle, aesthetics override democratic
considerations, then this principle will have only been furthered in Liverpool, where in June 2003 the city’s
claim to be the most business friendly in the UK was reinforced as it was designated European Capital of Culture for 2008. Within
hours of the announcement, property prices rose by as much as 20% in the city center and the local media heralded the coming of
“Boom Town”, with increased tourism, hi-tech investment and property development (Liverpool Echo 2003b). Following this news,
the chief of police promised a safe culture and trumpeted “the effects the Capital of Culture honor will have on the force” in terms of
extra police funding (Merseymart (2003) Safety row for culture year, 19 June). Whilst the local elite congratulated themselves, the
police supported the city council and the passing of a law to curtail a range of grassroots and
spontaneous street protests. In particular, this came out of a response to marches and protests that
criticized how the city’s regeneration was being conducted. The law states that, “no person shall in any street or
public place, for the purpose of the selling or advertising any article, or obtaining custom tout or importune, to the annoyance or
obstruction of passengers”. The broadness of the law means it can also be used to attack a range of
perceived nuisances tied to the secondary economy in the city and, for the new primary definers, give the
city the image of a “bargain basement economy”.9 It is an offence for people to sell or tout for business in the
streets or other public places, including flower sellers selling their goods in restaurants and bars. The new law also bans
individuals asking for money to mind cars and prevents charities from stopping people in the
street. This is particularly interesting as Liverpool is one of the poorest areas in the European Union and has had a visible and
sizable part of its population engaged in the secondary economy in the city for over two centuries (Brogden 1982).10 The law
also prohibits flyers being given out, people selling draw tickets in the street, student “ragmag”
sellers and leaflets being put under the windscreens of parked cars. Liverpool City Council’s licensing
committee approved a team of 14Wardens to enforce the law across the city. Linked by radio to the camera system, these Wardens
cost £700,000 annually and are utilized widely in addressing antisocial behavior that includes checking the movement and identity
of homeless people and those who sell the homeless magazine, the Big Issue. The contrived atmosphere of the
neoliberal city involves a branding process that strictly coheres with prevailing marketing
strategies. The strategy of “controlled spontaneity” seeks the realization of an idealized middle
class perception of the ordered nineteenth century city street, and points to a hegemony of aesthetics
regarding who and what should and should not be seen. This recapturing of an idealized past and present is attempted through
staging officially sponsored and prescribed cultural events and street art deemed ‘image friendly’. Liverpool’s premier arts festival –
Biennial – featured the work of a local photographer whose exhibition was entitled “Wish You Were Here.” The exhibition consisted
of alternative postcards depicting scenes of contemporary Liverpool – de-industrialized wastelands and run down housing estates.
In showing images of “another” Liverpool, at odds with the neoliberal vision, the city entrepreneurs stirred a debate through the
local press as to whether the work was warranted, as it was certainly at odds with the efforts they had in place to reverse negative
images of the city. It is image, and its control, that is paramount for those same people and agencies
that fund the city’s CCTV system. Cameras in the cities of the UK are a tool in the politics of vision – helping enforce
what can and cannot be observed on the streets, thus aiding the strategic balance between aesthetics and function. For example,
any notion of the city as a place of spontaneous fun for young people is being
curtailed , as skateboarders can be fined up to £200 if they break a by-law banning skating passed by city councilors in July
2002. Liverpool council claimed that skateboarding should be an offense as it is giving the city a bad image – putting tourists off and
pedestrians at risk, as well as damaging statues and memorials.11 The introduction of cameras is also starting to
have an influence on what clothing can be legitimately worn, particularly by the young, in
city centers. In cities in the counties of Essex, Hampshire, Cornwall, and Devon, police and private security enforce a policy that
has banned the wearing of hooded tops, baseball caps, and hats of various descriptions (it seems umbrellas are still a option). For all
the techno-hype, cameras cannot identify people if they are wearing headgear. Under the initiative,
mainly young people are stopped and told to remove headgear if they want to remain in the city
center. As one businesswoman stated “it’s a brilliant idea [but] some kids get stroppy [angry] when we ask them to remove their
hoods. As long as it helps in the fight against crime it isn’t discriminating against young people”. Such measures are likely
to be adopted elsewhere, and are set to further criminalize a generation and reinforce the
discourse of dangerous youth in the public mind. The creation and surveillance of neoliberal spaces seek to deny
the materialization of inequality. With the use of surveillance cameras (as with the introduction of the urban
police forces of the nineteenth century) has come the greater potential for spotting and moving on
undesirables and the more efficient enforcement of city Exclusion Orders and retailstore Banning Orders. The Orders are operated by private security and police to keep known, potential and anti-social
elements out of the city center. Furthermore, those perceived as non-consumers are being disproportionately
monitored by camera operators, particularly if young and/or black (Norris and Armstrong 1999; Coleman
and Sim 1998).12 In Liverpool, despite the riots of the 1980s (the largest and most costly in human and financial terms in the UK)
and the government responses that followed, Liverpool city center is still virtually devoid of black people.13 The restriction of
movement and quality of life for local black people is reinforced by police stop and search data
that are disproportionately high for black people in the UK, with Liverpool having the highest rates outside
London (Coleman, Sim, and Whyte 2002). The construction of the theme park city only reinforces these processes, so those walking
the streets without branded shopping bags and low income categories of teenagers, single men, the disheveled are likely targets of
security personnel whose idea of suspicion has converged around the notion of walking or standing without due cause. In Liverpool,
as in other advanced capitalist cities, the problem of how to “responsibilize the homeless” has been aired between local growth
sponsors. The issue of homelessness and its increased visibility on the streets of Britain through the 1980s and into the 1990s
received growing national attention from media commentators and policy makers. The notion of professional begging aggressive
begging helped move the debate on homelessness to the ideologically motivated problem of how “to reclaim the streets for the
lawabiding citizen”. The drive for street reclamation has taken various forms; and in Liverpool, the notion of educating the sellers of
the Big Issue in nonaggressive communication has been tried with the idea they could be city ambassadors or tourist guides.
Working for a living by selling the homeless magazine does not seem to be a responsible activity, and at odds with the prevailing
urban aesthetic. It is the targeting of beggars who mingle with the crowds around the bars and shopping malls who present the
biggest challenge. “Operation Change,” launched in Liverpool in 2003, aimed to reduce anti-social behavior among beggars and to
target “people who allegedly can’t speak English, using their children to ask for money” (Daily Post 2003). Publicity posters (titled:
Fact: Nobody needs to beg for a bed) have a picture of a fake-model homeless person, crouched on a city street, whose face is covered
by a cardboard sign that reads, “Help them make the change, keep your change”. This process of silencing the experiences of
homeless people is reflected in the poster campaigns, which discourage local people from talking to and giving loose change to street
people. In Liverpool, this has been coupled with undercover policing and targeted surveillance resulting in the arrest, caution, or
charging of over 800 people in 2002 in relation to begging offences. All beggars are now routinely finger printed and placed on the
Police National Computer (Daily Post 2003). The removal of the signs of inequality has been extended to a tradition found in most
English cities during October and November. This is Guy Faulks Night, where children have for over two centuries legitimately asked
members of the public for a “penny for the guy”. Some, though not all, of this money is collected for schools and other charitable
causes. However, in an attempt to combat children “who are a nuisance” and who remind shoppers of images of the street urchins of
the nineteenth century, the Liverpool City Council denied the continuation of this activity under the Vagrancy Act (1824) and the
Children’s and Young Persons Act (1933) that makes it an offence for anyone who is responsible for a child under the age of 16 to
allow that child to be in any street for the purposes of begging (Daily Post 2002b). The validity of young people to be
on the streets has been questioned through a number of schemes. For example, in 1998, a government
funded initiative involved the police in Liverpool and other agencies stopping and questioning
suspected school truants. One thousand school children were stopped in 1999, and a third of these “gave a good reason for
being out of classes” (Liverpool Echo 2000). The latest initiative, straight from New York, is what is called the “yob
tank”. This is a police mobile prison that tours the city locking up anti-social youths, fully
kitted with internal and external CCTV (Liverpool Echo 2003a). For some, the examples cited above
may seem trivial, but actually form part of a larger program of masking any hindrances to
neoliberal progress by rendering invisible unequal relations. Camera surveillance
plays its part in veiling its targets by displacing them, excluding them , and re-representing
social and political problems as criminal and/or deviant. CCTV ensures an increasingly
codified set of unequal rights regarding the use space and, in displacing inequality,
reinforces the development of a hidden city. Just as the main routes into downtown have received makeovers to
disguise the poor estates from visitors (mass tree planting on man made hills) and renaming (from Street to Boulevard), so CCTV
can be understood as an attempt to disguise-through-exclusion the flip side of neoliberal city
building. Crucially, the enforcement of a new social hygiene and the class-based cues and norms
that underlie it are not gender neutral (Coleman and Sim 1998). With the advent of camera
surveillance, the extension of a threatening and objectifying male gaze continues to be
a taxing problem in the domain of a neoliberal public space ; not least in terms of the
prevalence of sexual harassment and sexual violence (Koskela 2002). Conclusion: Trajectories of State
Formation and Social Control Davis (1990: 224) captured the shift from social welfare to social warfare in post-liberal Los Angeles,
where “one observes an unprecedented tendency to merge urban design, architecture and the police apparatus into a single
comprehensive security effort.” His work pointed to a dystopian vision of the contemporary city where urban
renaissance continues to go hand in hand with the reconstruction of policing and security
towards the maintenance of brutal and unequal social boundaries . Davis cogently highlighted the
interconnections between agencies involved in social control in the city. However, the extent to which it is possible to generalize
from such an analysis has remained open to empirical and theoretical debate. “Fortress LA”, like Cohen’s (1979) “punitive city” or
the pathological zones of the Chicago School, cannot be read as representative of urban policing,
strategies of social control, or patterns of urban crime respectively. As Taylor (1997: 59) argued, global
prescriptions of change, whether formulated in terms of a “risk society” or post-modernism, have failed to connect
“global change to local expressions” regarding the emergence of local partnerships that have
placed crime prevention as a core concern. While this may be true, it also becomes important to remain sensitive to
global trends, not least in terms of the discourses of crime and safety and the image management they are a part of which are central
to the promotion of neoliberal ideology and growth. In noting the importance of the local, it does not prohibit a
contribution to wider empirical or theoretical debate around the nature of contemporary social
control. Neo-Foucauldian approaches to social control stressed the micro techniques of power. These studies have been, at best,
contingent and, at worst – in the call for attention to the local and particular – so particularistic “that we can never know when any
particular is particular enough” (McLennan 1996: 70). Ultimately, existing empirical observations must be placed alongside, and
integrated in, theoretical progress.
1ac – plan 1
The United States federal government should rule that video surveillance of U.S.
persons in urban spaces conducted by federal agencies without a warrant based on
probable cause or a selective warrant is unconstitutional, on the grounds that such
surveillance violates the First Amendment’s protection of free speech.
1ac – solvency (plan 1)
The plan rules that video surveillance by federal law enforcement violates the First
Amendment’s free speech protection because of surveillance camera’s chilling
effect on public speech
Blitz 5 [Marc Jonathan, Assistant Professor, Oklahoma City University School of Law,
“Fourteenth Annual Symposium On Contemporary Urban Challenges: The Dangers Of Fighting
Terrorism With Technocommunitarianism: Constitutional Protections Of Free Expression,
Exploration, And Unmonitored Activity In Urban Spaces,” 2005, Fordham University School of
Law, 32 Fordham Urb. L.J. 677, lexis] //khirn
But a
pervasive and inescapable network of identification devices blurs this distinction between
coincidental recognition and compelled disclosure. n82 While face recognition (or other biometric
identification) has sometimes been portrayed as a high-tech equivalent of happenstance
identification by a nearby acquaintance, it can in fact operate in a way that is practically much
more like the disclosure requirements. The very act of walking on a city street in such a world, for
instance, makes it impossible not to identify oneself to town officials. A door-to-door solicitor may not have to
go through the burden of informing a town of her identity, by filling out a form or signing a piece of campaign literature. Yet she
does have to identify herself as a condition of performing such activity, simply because the activity cannot be carried out without
revealing her identity. Thus, the
pervasiveness of high-tech camera networks may well run afoul of
the First Amendment anonymity protections enunciated by the Supreme Court in the 2002 case of
Watchtower Bible & Tract Society of New York, Inc. v. Stratton. n83 In that case, the Court held that door-to-door
solicitors had a right to maintain their anonymity as they engaged in protected First Amendment
activity. n84
Second, the fact that government officials operate or have regular access to cameras and face
recognition scanners has constitutional significance, even if they are not the only ones with such
access. This is because while the First Amendment does not protect us (at least not directly) from
informal community pressures towards conformity, it does protect us from any such pressure
[*699] when it comes from the government. n85 Indeed, government disclosure requirements are
constitutionally problematic even if the government itself refrains from imposing any
punishment on speech or association: Even if it merely facilitates community pressure or private
retaliation against a dissenter - for example, by forcing that dissenter to reveal his connection to unpopular views or
unorthodox ideas - it will likely run afoul of First Amendment protections. Thus, the village of Stratton was
barred in Watchtower Bible from collecting identifying information on solicitors on behalf of (and for examination by) its residents.
n86 And Congress was similarly barred from requiring individuals interested in receiving sexually-explicit cable channels from
identifying themselves and their interests to cable carriers. In that case, the Court noted that the requirement would
"restrict viewing by subscribers who fear for their reputations should the operator , advertently or
inadvertently, disclose the list of those who wish to watch the 'patently offensive' channel." n87 The fact that punishment
of such interests would likely come from community members and not from government itself
could not make such a self-identification requirement permissible.
Even if the government does not directly silence protected speech, it causes First Amendment
harm when it aids silencing by pointing such speech out to wielders of private power who will
likely find it objectionable. In such circumstances, the government's role is not unlike that of a
military unit that sends up flares or shines a spotlight so that a separate attacking force
can identify its target. In so doing, that unit clearly participates in, and aids, such an attack (made problematic when the
object of the attack is constitutionally-protected speech or association).
That ruling spills over and sets a legal precedent for the protection of urban areas
as spaces of freedom with the right to anonymity --- the effect of the plan is to rule
that laws authorizing video surveillance conducted by federal, state and local law
enforcement are unconstitutional
Blitz 5 [Marc Jonathan, Assistant Professor, Oklahoma City University School of Law,
“Fourteenth Annual Symposium On Contemporary Urban Challenges: The Dangers Of Fighting
Terrorism With Technocommunitarianism: Constitutional Protections Of Free Expression,
Exploration, And Unmonitored Activity In Urban Spaces,” 2005, Fordham University School of
Law, 32 Fordham Urb. L.J. 677, lexis] //khirn
The story of environmental shock depicted in this television series has also made an appearance in sociological observation. Decades
ago, one of the founders of sociology, Georg Simmel, imagined what it would be like for an inhabitant of a modern metropolis to be
suddenly lifted out of his urban existence and dropped into the smaller and more confining world of an ancient or medieval village.
The modern city dweller, said Simmel, "could not even breathe under such conditions." n9 He could not tolerate the "limits upon
[his] movements" or the restrictions on "his relationships with the outside world." n10 Nor could he suffer the loss of the "inner
independence and differentiation" that would accompany such a shift from the city to a close knit, loyalty-demanding community.
n11 While such an environment may have seemed tolerable to individuals born and bred within its confines, it would be insufferable,
said Simmel, to anyone who long enjoyed the individual freedom made possible by the anonymity and incomparable diversity [*679]
of modern city life. This modern urban environment, he stressed, provides individuals with a "type and
degree of personal freedom to which there is no analogy in other circumstances." n12 In the limited
space of a small village, one can express individuality only when acting as a leader, as the "number one" figure "in the village," or
when "existing in it only externally [as an outcast]." n13 By contrast, in city life, the multitude of options and the indifference of
neighbors provide people with plenty of room to follow their own unique paths while still being part and parcel of the larger urban
community. As E.B White has written in his celebration of New York, city life can thus blend "the gift of privacy with the excitement
of participation." n14
But if
the unparalleled individual freedom one gains in urban anonymity is deeply
valued, is it also constitutionally protected? If municipal or state governments decide, for example,
that the extensive freedom and anonymity provided by modern city life not only provides valuable
room for individuality, but also worrisome hiding space for terrorists or criminals, can they take
measures to "roll back" some of this unmonitored space? Can they make it more difficult for individuals to
escape government monitoring or avoid identification in public places? Or would such a transformation cross
important First Amendment or other constitutional boundary lines?
These questions are important ones as cities, police departments, and other
government actors struggle with the difficult challenges associated with protecting urban
areas against terrorism in the wake of the September 11 attacks and those in Madrid and London. The dangers of terrorism
predictably cause such actors (and the citizens they represent) to take more interest in others' (possibly dangerous) actions. New
chemical and biological weapons [*680] allow hateful individuals and small organizations to cause fatalities and economic
destruction of a magnitude that could previously have been inflicted only by a large and highly visible army. Not surprisingly, law
enforcement and other officials have taken a keen interest in powerful surveillance and identification technologies that might allow
them to more effectively locate and thwart these very dangerous and difficult to detect threats. Not surprisingly, while such
technologies may well undermine the freedoms we are used to finding in cities, many officials and citizens alike now wonder whether
this is a sacrifice worth making - and whether the unparalleled anonymity and freedom that we are now accustomed to in cities is a
luxury that we can no longer afford in the current security context. As Simmel himself recognized when describing the individual
freedom one finds in the metropolis, such freedom is unlikely to flourish in a society that feels itself under "an incessant threat
against its existence by enemies near and far." n15
As a result, the nature of city life appears to be changing. On the streets of London, which "The Prisoner" presented over three
decades ago as a striking contrast to the claustrophobic and camera-monitored confines of the main character's new and
involuntarily-imposed community, individuals are now watched constantly by cameras as they walk from block to block or drive
down the road. As Jeffrey Rosen observed, there are 4.2 million cameras in Britain, many in London proper, including
"speed cameras and red-light cameras, cameras in lobbies and elevators, in hotels and restaurants, in nursery schools
and high schools." n16 In part, these cameras are intended to protect citizens against terrorism: they were
used to gather invaluable data about the July 2005 terrorist strikes against the London public transport system. n17 But they have
also been used to gather significant information from street life and shopping malls that is unrelated to terror attacks or serious
crimes. n18 Far from worrying that such routine monitoring of citizens [*681] will undercut individualism, the British government
has taken the stance that citizens should have no anxieties about submitting themselves to external observation since, in the words
of a pro-camera campaign slogan, "if you've got nothing to hide, you've got nothing to fear." n19
Just as significant as the spread of cameras is the fast embrace of new technologies that can instantaneously identify strangers as
they walk through public spaces. Americans today have some experience with these technologies; they
realize that they leave a trail of information about their whereabouts and activities whenever
they use credit cards, make calls on cell phones, or drive their cars through electronic tollway
systems. The future also promises to bring newer, more powerful identification technologies
which are even more difficult to escape. The last decade, for example, witnessed tremendous growth in the use of
"biometric" technologies which identify people by their distinctive physiological features. Citizens might be identified with iris or
retinal scanners, or with devices that allow entry into parks or plazas only in return for an identifiable hand scan or fingerprint.
Cameras might also be equipped with "face recognition software" that matches a person walking
on a street to a "face print" in a database. n20
Such technologies are already in use, on an experimental basis, in airports and at sporting events. The war on terrorism has
bolstered interest in their use. technologies to detect, recognize and identify humans at great distances" The Defense Department,
for example, conducted a "Human Identification at a Distance program" to "develop automated biometric identification providing
"critical early warning support for force protection and homeland defense against terrorist, criminal, and other human-based
threats." n21 The
Defense Department has also encouraged development of so-called "3-D Combat
Zone" technology that will not only be able to identify "vehicles by size, color, shape, and license
tag" but also identify the faces of drivers and passengers. n22
[*682] While many observers have expressed deep concern about this transformation of urban
space, others have argued that, implemented correctly, such a technological transformation might make
city life more communitarian, that is, city life would be more like a small town where everyone knows each other and
knows a lot about what they do. This, they stress, need not be such a terrifying prospect. David Brin, for example, argues that
tremendous good can result when emerging surveillance technologies transform each "metropolis" into "an easily spanned village."
After such a transformation, he explains, citizens might well feel safer in public walking under the protective gaze of powerful
cameras while simultaneously "using the godlike power [that comes with these cameras] to zoom at will from vantage point to
vantage point." n23 Knowing that their "homes are sacrosanct," and that the sacrifice of public anonymity is the price they must pay
to exploit the wonders of new crime-fighting tools, citizens will be able to bear - and benefit from - a world of ubiquitous cameras
and microphones. n24
Others echo Brin's optimism about the rapid spread of cameras, and many have become more receptive to it as Americans' fear of
terrorism has grown. Adam L. Penenberg, for example, writes that "even as we trade privacy for security and convenience, we're
hardly headed toward totalitarianism." n25 Citizens, he writes, "have already learned to use surveillance tools to keep government
accountable" and "transparency ... is almost always a good thing." n26 While privacy in the home remains important, "in public
institutions and on city streets, the more transparency the better." n27 Amitai Etzioni likewise proposes that, in determining how to
balance the value of privacy with that of the common good, Americans often give short shrift to the latter. n28 One measure he
considers to "correct the imbalance" is to employ the use of biometric identifiers. n29 Indeed, he says, "the minimal opposition to
cameras installed in many public places suggests that citizens may [*683] be less opposed to some kinds of biometric ID
technologies than to ID cards." n30
Still, such accounts of how cities might become more like small towns do not answer the question of whether cities' current
movements in this direction raise any constitutional problems. Are cities free to reconceive themselves in this
way? Are they unhindered by First Amendment anonymity protections or other constitutional
civil liberties when they install face recognition, iris scanners, or other identification technologies
in plazas, streets, or train stations? To ask the same question in a slightly different way, is American constitutionalism
neutral between the vision of urban life presented by Simmel and that offered more recently by Brin? n31 Does the Constitution in
any sense favor urban landscapes that allow for greater freedom and individuality? Or do defenders of such individualism simply
have to make peace with the notion that the openness and anonymity of twentieth-century cities was just a historical phase rather
than a constitutional right, and that American Constitutionalism places no constraints on cities that prevent them from evolving into
closely-monitored spaces very different from what they once were?
I already addressed such questions from one angle in a previous article, where I argued that public video surveillance
systems should
be found in some circumstances to be in violation of the Fourth Amendment's
protection against unreasonable searches. n32 I argued that the Fourth Amendment, although currently
defined as protecting "reasonable expectations of privacy," should instead be understood to protect certain
features of environments, both private and public, that provide Americans with a certain
minimal level of insulation against excessive government monitoring. n33 That article, however, dealt only
in passing with the question raised above; namely, what grounds exist for viewing the anonymity and freedom
that one finds in modern urban life as fundamental features of the constitutional landscape?
Why not allow such anonymity and freedom to fade as cities evolve in a direction incompatible
with them - or be traded away for other benefits if elected city, state, or federal representatives
decide, under voters' [*684] watch, that security concerns demand a new balance between privacy,
liberty, and other interests?
This article suggests that there is already a powerful answer to this question implicit in modern First
Amendment jurisprudence. Unlike modern Fourth Amendment case law, which gives short
shrift to the importance of insulating public space from government control and design, n34
modern First Amendment law places meaningful limits on the control that governmental
authorities may exercise over streets, parks, and other public spaces central to urban life. It also
stringently protects the anonymity that individuals may retain in such public spaces - for
example, when they distribute unsigned leaflets or present controversial views to strangers on a
public street. These limits suggest there are constitutional boundaries on the extent to which
governments may transform urban spaces (and other public spaces) in which their citizens live. While
cities have significant freedom to redesign themselves, they may not trade away those elements
of the urban environment that have evolved into crucial supports for freedom of expression and intellectual exploration. In
this sense, the liberty-enabling features of streets, parks, and plazas are akin to historic buildings
that have become central to a city or a neighborhood's identity. They have become an integral
and defining part of Americans' constitutional life and, as such, have earned a claim to
preservation that distinguishes them from other features of the urban landscape. n35
If, by contrast, one believes that constitutional interpretation should change as society changes, then why not let
conceptions of First Amendment and other constitutional rights change with developments in
citizens' conceptions of liberty, privacy, and security, and the proper relationship between them?
To the extent that city life is marked by continual transformation of cities' physical structure and
social fabric, perhaps the proper forum for individualists and communitarians to spar over the
direction of such transformation is not in constitutional law at all, but in the vigorous policy
debates that play a vital role in democratic governance. The future of urban existence may very
well be shaped by debates over architecture, park design, and zoning laws rather than debates
over the meaning of the First Amendment.
Part II sketches an answer to these challenges and suggests a reason for courts and others to find that freedom-enabling institutions
that did not exist earlier in American history, and might cease to exist in the future, deserve certain constitutional protection while
they are here. n37 This part addresses these challenges by explaining that however counterintuitive this claim may seem, it receives a
strong and implicit endorsement in the way that scholars and courts analyze the First Amendment, the Internet, and the intersection
between them. In short, I suggest that it is difficult to [*686] make sense of our modern jurisprudence of First Amendment rights,
especially as they relate to anonymous communication and association on the Internet and elsewhere, unless one allows room in our
constitutional law for a jurisprudence that "captures" and preserves social incarnations of liberty and privacy that were not yet in
existence when the Constitution was drafted. Courts' defenses of Internet anonymity provide one example of such a libertypreserving doctrine.
In Part III, I explain why defending the urban freedom identified by Georg Simmel deserves a place in
constitutional jurisprudence for largely the same reason. Like the virtual liberation offered by the Internet,
city life offered and continues to offer an invaluable refuge for substantial expressive activity
and intellectual exploration that would be far more elusive without this type of urban
existence. n38 It provides individuals with an incredibly rich bazaar of ideas, and allows them to browse
among these ideas, substantially free from outside monitoring or control . While First
Amendment law does not single out urban environments for protection, it protects such
environments indirectly by preserving certain opportunities that are characteristic of modern
urban life: opportunities for giving speeches to large crowds, for confronting strangers with ideas
they may find unfamiliar or provocative, or for speaking or gathering information in the
anonymity of the crowd. A person may sometimes find such opportunities in small towns as well as cities. But it is in
urban environments where one finds the most numerous and frequent opportunities both
for broadcasting one's views and for hiding them. And I suggest here that defending this feature of
urban settings does not undercut our constitutional regime's tolerance of, and neutrality toward,
different visions of the good, so long as we are assured that the freedom-enhancing
environment of the city can continue to exist alongside of, and not in place of, alternative
forms of collective life.
The plan creates a legal precedent for the protection of urban environments as
sanctuaries for speech, debate, and public dissent --- Court ruling is crucial to
create a precedent of jurisprudence capable of striking down laws that serve to
silence political possibilities and urban transformation
Blitz 5 [Marc Jonathan, Assistant Professor, Oklahoma City University School of Law,
“Fourteenth Annual Symposium On Contemporary Urban Challenges: The Dangers Of Fighting
Terrorism With Technocommunitarianism: Constitutional Protections Of Free Expression,
Exploration, And Unmonitored Activity In Urban Spaces,” 2005, Fordham University School of
Law, 32 Fordham Urb. L.J. 677, lexis] //khirn
Part III: Public Fora and Anonymous Space
I suggest in this article that constitutional liberalism makes no such demand. On the contrary, just
as courts generally
appear to recognize and respect the significance of the Internet as the foundation for much of
our existing marketplace of ideas, so too have courts recognized in the past that features of
urban life and other physical settings deserve a similar kind of respect and protection. [*707] Indeed,
our existing First Amendment jurisprudence already protects certain features of urban
space . Far from being entirely neutral, courts have long held fast to the notion that governments who
manage public parks are compelled by the First Amendment to recognize and respect the fact
that these spaces have "immemorially been held in trust for the use of the public and, time out of
mind, have been used for purposes of assembly, communicating thoughts between citizens, and
discussing public questions." n120 For this reason, content-based regulations in such settings are subject to strict scrutiny,
and even content-neutral regulations must be "narrowly tailored to serve a significant government interest, and leave open ample
alternative channels of communication." n121
As is true for the electronic space of the Internet, there is nothing inevitable about the vision
of parks as a sanctuary for speech and debate . Indeed, the Supreme Court's statement in Hague that such parks
have constituted a refuge for speech, "from time out of mind," is inaccurate. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth century,
before the Supreme Court classified parks as "quintessential public fora" where the First
Amendment interests are entitled to special weight, park authorities often promulgated strict
rules about what kind of speech and assembly was permissible within park boundaries. In England,
for example, "religious and political meetings were a part of urban life, but as parks were seen as peaceful places, such potentially
divisive activities were generally prohibited." n122 Similarly, American parks of the nineteenth century made sure to
keep "discussions of politics and religion out of park programming." n123
In the late nineteenth century, Oliver Wendell Holmes - then Chief Justice of the Massachusetts Supreme Court - found that there
was nothing impermissible about such speech restrictions. "For the legislature absolutely or conditionally to forbid public speaking
in a highway or public park," he wrote, "is no more an infringement of the rights of a member of the public than for the owner of a
private house to forbid it in his house." n124 This opinion [*708] was upheld by the United States Supreme Court. n125 The shift
that has since occurred in the Court's First Amendment jurisprudence indicates that, in contrast to Holmes' late nineteenth-century
opinion, the current-day Court believes that freedom of expression cannot flourish unless citizens
have environments of a kind that can support it. The Internet represents one such
environment. Municipal parks, public streets and plazas, and other common meeting
grounds in "real space" provide others .
This equation between expressive freedom on the Internet and in parks may seem odd. The Internet is not a quintessential public
forum. A public forum, such as a street or park, is a type of government-owned property. While it may be provided by the
government or with government funds, the "virtual space" that exists on the Web is not government-owned space, but rather space
that, for the most part, is owned and managed by private parties. Focusing only on the government ownership of public fora,
however, obscures the fundamental respect in which they are similar to virtual spaces. The importance of both of these spaces is the
"environmental support" they provide for speakers and information-seekers that might otherwise have difficulty finding a reliable
and affordable space for First Amendment activity. The Internet, as scholars and courts alike have emphasized, provides an
unparalleled opportunity for expression and information-seeking even to those who can afford little more than a computer and
Internet connection. In this sense, as writers such as Lee Tien have pointed out, Internet speech is "cheap speech," reminiscent of
the writings of "lonely pamphleteers." n126 Public spaces such as streets and parks are similar in that they
provide another key First Amendment resource for those who might otherwise be unable to
marshal resources to find an audience for their views or compatriots for group expression. As the
Supreme Court emphasized in Hague, much like open markets where buyers and sellers know to look for
each other, public parks and streets provide natural gathering points where speakers can go to
find a potential audience for their ideas, and information-seekers can go to select from a thriving
marketplace of ideas. n127 In the absence of such protected meeting grounds, "buyers" and "sellers" in the marketplace of
ideas would have to expend far more resources (perhaps including resources they do not have) to find [*709] each other, or
congregate (or demonstrate) with like-minded individuals.
Because such environments provide a key support for First Amendment communications, the
basic architecture of these spaces cannot be as "value neutral," or as vulnerable to hasty
redesign, as are other realms within a liberal democracy. In this sense they are unlike other organizational forms
in a liberal democracy that can shift, in chameleon-like fashion, to fit the values of whatever
group inhabits them. The rules of a church or a private school or university, for example, can be bent or revised in large part
to fit the mission and world view of whatever group runs it. Many employers and residential areas can likewise
accommodate themselves to specific value systems. They can adopt traditional group ideals at
odds with individualism. Thus, many of the great thinkers of the liberal tradition have
recognized that within a liberal order, one may find markedly illiberal groups. n128 But in order
for First Amendment expression to remain a real and ever-present opportunity in the midst of
such social malleability, there are spaces within a liberal constitutional order that are
set aside, and remain set aside, for untrammeled First Amendment debate and
exploration . Seen in this light, the distinctive freedoms that Georg Simmel attributed to urban
spaces are not temporary benefits that can simply be traded away for other benefits, or transformed
to fit very different values; rather, the openness one currently finds in the streets and parks of these
spaces is a key, non-negotiable element that cannot be sacrificed without undermining
existing First Amendment jurisprudence . To make such a sacrifice would not only hurt those city dwellers
who live near parks. It would also undercut the First Amendment interests of speakers (or listeners) from
smaller communities who come to spread a message (or receive one), and the readers in all types of
communities who will ultimately review and partake in the debates generated in such
public spaces.
It is still conceivable, perhaps, that courts would nonetheless find that cameras and effective
face-recognition devices meet the legal threshold normally demanded of content-neutral measures
in streets and parks: Courts might conclude that carte blanche use of [*710] such powerful surveillance devices is "narrowly tailored
to serve a significant government interest," namely its interest in battling crime and terrorism, and that it "leaves open ample
alternative channels of communication," because--in watching citizens--the cameras do not silence them. n129 But such a
conclusion would be a questionable one. At a minimum, the "narrow tailoring" requirement appears
to require some showing that the design and institutional operation of the cameras will
effectively limit them to the significant interests that justify their presence. Additionally, it would be
rash to conclude that a dragnet surveillance system leaves open "alternative channels" of
communication simply because citizens may still hold private conversations under the close
watch of the state. Where anonymity is an important condition for protected speech, then an alternative channel is only viable
alternative where it offers the anonymity that the cameras threaten to eliminate.
There is also another more important reason that unrestrained video surveillance causes unacceptable damage to a public forum-even if watching citizens' expressive activity does not technically count as regulating it under the First Amendment.
" Quintessential"
public fora , such as streets and parks, are classified as such because there
is something about their character that makes them natural places for purposes of
assembly , communicating thoughts between citizens, and discussing public
questions . Even if the government's surveillance measures do not technically run afoul of the
court's tests for content-based and content-neutral speech regulations in public fora, the
government could easily undercut a key and long-standing element of First Amendment
jurisprudence if it were allowed to transform traditional preserves of free and vigorous
discussion into zones subject to constant and unrestrained official monitoring.
Indeed, it is not simply the concrete features of public spaces, such as streets and parks, which have a special
status under the Constitution. Intangible environmental characteristics, such as possibilities for
anonymity in public space and elsewhere, receive protection as well. It is difficult to make sense of the
Court's current jurisprudence of anonymous speech unless one understands it as intended not only to protect against an author's
unwilling disclosure of identity, but also to protect the possibility of anonymous speech and information-seeking more generally. In
other words, [*711] like the electronic and physical sanctuaries that liberal societies have set aside to
support robust debate and exchange of ideas , the opportunity for anonymity represents a
kind of environmental condition - one which is a precondition for significant First Amendment activities. Just as the
"vast platform" provided by the Web and the natural assembly point presented by streets and parks dramatically lower the costs of
effective free expression for ordinary citizens, the opportunity for anonymity also reduces the cost of such
speech by placing it within the reach of many who would not otherwise risk the opprobrium and
social penalty they might face if they challenged, or rethought, conventional views in public. As
Judith Shklar has written, the liberty to speak out and dissent against the powers that be, both political and social, must be available
not only to "saints" and "heroes" but also to ordinary citizens, with ordinary amounts of courage. n130 Anonymity helps put dissent
and free expression within their reach.
Women’s fears in urban spaces are rooted in broader gender inequality—the
broad-based public discussion catalyzed by the plan can challenge the
masculinization and militarization of contemporary cities
Beebeejaun 9 Lecturer at School of Environment and Development at the University of
Manchester (Yasminah, Security Journal, “Making safer places: Gender and the right to the
city” p. 219 – 220, 2009, ProQuest)
The implications are that urban planning has embodied the masculinisation of the city and that
the new security agenda ignores the gendered experiences of citizens. While much physical regeneration of
the public realm has been undertaken, attention to the social dimensions of the city remains limited ( Reeves,
2005 ). This is despite the legacy of scholarship initiated by Jane Jacobs (1961) and Oscar Newman (1973) which
highlighted the human dimension to security and wellbeing. In reality, planners have tended to
favour technical solutions. The city has a long history as the site of possibility for less restrictive urban
lives and is understood as a mix of possibilities (Young, 1990 ). Yet this has existed in tension with the desire to
regulate the activities of women within the city. Wilson (1987) traces how the planned city sublimates the
role of women ‘ who have never been granted full and free access to the streets. ’ (p. 8). Indeed, Amin
(2007, p. 6) suggests: Of course, all manners of small terrors are committed from time to time – against immigrants, asylum seekers,
vagrants, young children, and women – but the steady state seems to be of public acceptance of ‘ throwntogetherness. ’ 220 © 2009
Palgrave Macmillan 0955–1662 Security Journal Vol. 22, 3, 219–229 Beebeejaun Amin (2007) suggests also that the vibrant nature
of public space forms the basis of developing trust in wider society. However, it is interesting that women fi gure in the list
of those against whom ‘ small terrors ’ are committed. Women are particularly characterised as
fearful with the city. The current Home Secretary, the fi rst woman to hold this post in the United Kingdom, has
herself suggested that she and women in general would not go out on the streets at night. An interview with
The Times newspaper asked: Would she feel safe walking alone at night in, say, Hackney, east London? She [Jacqui Smith MP] looks
alarmed: ‘ No. Why would I do that? ’ Perhaps deprived Hackney is an unfair example – what about well-heeled Kensington and
Chelsea? ‘ No. But I would never have done, at any point in my life. I just don ’ t think it ’ s a thing that people do. I wouldn ’ t walk
around at midnight. I ’ m fortunate that I don ’ t have to do so. ’ ( Oakeshott, 20 January 2008 ) This paper is based within a UK
context and British experiences of cities. However, it acknowledged the rich body of scholarship within
development studies has explored the gendered nature of urban violence in the Global South (
Moser, 2006 ) and developed frameworks for conceptualising and challenging it. Much social violence motivated by the
will to attain or keep social power and control is gender based and often linked to gendered power relations
and constructions of masculinities. Gender-based violence includes violence towards an intimate partner
inside the home as well as sexual abuse in the public arena. (p. 3) This rich literature also argues for a reorientation of the public / private sphere and, with it, gender relations. Whitzman (2008) highlights how ‘ …
most community safety initiatives because they take a non-gendered approach, downplay or
ignore violence within homes and families ’ . She highlights the defi ciencies of public policymaking which fail to make linkages between fear of violence in public space and cultures of fear
which may exist in the domestic setting. Women should be free from violence and crime in both the private and public
sphere. Thus arguments that women have heightened and unrealistic fears of crime fail to take into
account the private sphere. They also do not take into account the modifi cations to behaviour that women may
make due to perceived risk or how their experiences are infl uenced within the domestic sphere.
We will return to this line of thought in the empirical section of the paper. We argue in this paper that urban planning ’ s
contribution to liveable safe cities has not been innocent in reinforcing gender divisions despite the
literature attempting to address these defi ciencies ( Greed, 1994 ; Reeves, 2005 ). Furthermore, as Coleman and Sim (2000) note
in regard to closed-circuit television ( CCTV ), the securitisation of the city is in turn a process of
masculinisation with a focus on technological fi xes and militarisation of the city. We argue that
this focus on securitisation of the city within popular discourse and policy has negative impacts upon
women. It also represents a disjuncture from the body of work concerned with the diverse city and the right to
the city for all groups ( Sandercock, 2003 ; Fincher and Iveson, 2008 ; Wood and Landry, 2008 ). This is a dangerous
neglect given that UK cities have just undergone a signifi cant process of redevelopment and reinvestment over the last 10 – 15 years
yet often ignoring the possibility to create more liveable cities for all.
Traditional urban security efforts are overreliant on technocratic decisionmaking,
which fails to overcome gender divisions at the heart of urban life
Beebeejaun 9 Lecturer at School of Environment and Development at the University of
Manchester (Yasminah, Security Journal, “Making safer places: Gender and the right to the
city” p. 227 – 8, 2009, ProQuest)
The second issue is the importance of making the public realm truly public. Critiques of traditional security approaches
are not arguing for a renouncing of securitisation measures but rather making a call for these
policies to be linked back to the city of diversity. The role of public space is discussed as critical to engendering
citizenship. The city is the site of difference, but it is primarily in public space that we come across that difference. Choices can be
made to some extent about the level of that difference in specifi c areas of the city that we choose to frequent or in the residential
areas that we seek. However, these are not hermetically sealed, and increasing security measures in some areas may make others feel
less safe. Too often, our collective relationship to the public domain is marked exactly by a lack of trust
and confi dence; fears about the security of public spaces are at the forefront of public concerns . (
Demos, 2006, p. 32 ) These fears are important as they may restrict those entering the city particularly to enjoy the consumer
possibilities that have been opened up. The dominant approach to these fears has been through the increase of surveillance and
control. The United Kingdom is thought to have the most CCTV cameras in the world and they have spread to such an extent that
Graham (2002) describes them as the fi fth utility. This is not to suggest that other measures have not been taken; for instance, no
drinking zones have been instituted in parts of cities such as Manchester. Other cities, such as Sheffi eld, have introduced City
Centre Ambassadors with a mix of roles including patrolling public spaces ( Holmes and Beebeejaun, 2007 ). The city is
promised as a place of possibility and freedom but the reality varies for different group,
particularly along the lines of gender. Under the auspices of the ‘ Respect ’ agenda introduced under Tony Blair ’ s
term as Prime Minister, greater attention is being paid to the individual actions of those using city centre spaces. This
has most famously been enacted through Anti-Social Behaviour Orders which seek to regulate the activities, generally of the poor.
However, this is not in the guise of ensuring greater civility but as a disciplining mechanism to target individuals
with aberrant behaviour, rather than dealing with wider societal problems. We need to
resubstitute human eyes for those of video-cameras, human interaction for electronic
surveillance to rediscover the meaning of community in neighbourliness and positive
interaction. ( Hillier, 1996, p. 103 ) Finally, how can discussions about important issues of security
empower rather than demean people. The construction of fear often seems to be dismissed as
irrational behaviour rather than being deep seated. This fear stems in part from societal norms. The
suggestion by Jacqui Smith, the U.K. Home Secretary, that women do not need to go out after midnight was quoted at the beginning
of this paper. Shouldn ’ t security measures act to make environments better for citizens in general? The MSP project illustrated the
need to tackle issues more holistically or think about the ‘ whole of the journey ’ ( Cornish and Smith, 2006 ). Surveillance and
security has to be extended beyond the notion of a CCTV camera or other measure as there is no
assurance that someone is able to assist ( Koskela, 2002 ). Rather natural surveillance not only acts to increase
feelings of safety but also creates the conviviality and human interaction that makes good cities. It would appear that security
measures in UK cities have failed to engage with the benefi ciaries of their work to a suffi cient extent. 228 © 2009 Palgrave
Macmillan 0955–1662 Security Journal Vol. 22, 3, 219–229 Beebeejaun The uses of the city are complex and
require engagement with citizens to understand their needs and desires. Finally, the
right to the city is not gained through paternalistic efforts to make it safe for the women and
children. Rather it is deliberative and open to the viewpoints of the community. The
majority of the urban poor live in cities, and within these, in women-headed households ( Beall, 1996 ). They need
to be supported to engage in the dialogue about security that affects them not as voiceless benefi
ciaries or as the undesirable other. Security agendas cannot make good cities, but they can
acknowledge their part in the ongoing dialogue rather than remove themselves from it.
1ac – plan 2
The United States federal government should rule that video surveillance of U.S.
persons in public spaces conducted by federal agencies without warrant based on
probable cause or a substitute selected warrant is unconstitutional, on the
grounds that such surveillance violates the Fourth Amendment’s protection
against unreasonable searches and seizures.
1ac – solvency (plan 2)
The plan rules that video surveillance by federal law enforcement violates the
fourth amendment’s protection against unreasonable searches and seizures,
affirming a right to anonymity in public spaces
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
This Article, however, will suggest that a different approach provides a more promising foundation for modern Fourth Amendment
jurisprudence. It will argue that, contrary to Katz's famous pronouncement, courts can often best protect privacy in
public life by focusing on places rather than the people who act in them. Instead of protecting
individual expectations of privacy directly, courts might best protect privacy in public life
indirectly by identifying and protecting those features of our society, including those
features of public space, that allow anonymity and other privacy-related interests to
exist in sufficient measure . This approach better captures what is disturbing about
widespread public video surveillance . Such surveillance threatens Fourth Amendment
values not simply through its effects on the privacy of any individual activity, but by wholly
transforming the public environment in a way that is at odds with core requirements of a free
society. This approach is also more helpful than the Katz framework in clarifying the core of the challenge that confronts us as we
adapt Fourth Amendment protections to the threats posed by terrorism and other violent crime. This challenge is not to
freeze and give force to every existing expectation of privacy that individuals might have had
before confronted with such threats. Nor is it to make Fourth Amendment protections fluctuate with Americans'
changing (and heterogeneous) preferences about privacy. It is rather to assure that, even as courts allow government
officials to hunt more vigorously for evidence of criminal activity or signs of terrorist
threats, and use new technologies to do so, they do not compromise those core privacy
protections that are integral to a free society.
To be sure, Katz's "reasonable expectation of privacy" test has not been without value in protecting privacy in the face
of previous technologically-driven transformations of our environment. It created a useful framework for analyzing
bugging, wiretapping, thermal imaging, and other techniques that allow investigators outside of
a home, office, or phone booth to somehow look or hear inside. However, this framework is not as
useful for analyzing emerging video surveillance systems , which invade our privacy by
continuously gathering and analyzing the significant evidence of our thoughts, interests, and
actions that we leave in the "outside" world itself.
That catalyzes social change capable of shaping social environments capable of
challenging and resisting technologies of surveillance --- using the Court to shape
the social fabric has transformative potential
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
Arguments such as Brin's provide an invaluable reminder that the physical and social
foundations of constitutional liberalism can shift dramatically, forcing those who support individual rights to
think carefully about how such rights can continue to flourish in new and unfamiliar conditions. However, this argument
does not take adequate account of the role that privacy law, and Fourth Amendment jurisprudence in
particular, can play in adapting long-standing liberties to evolving social and technological
environments. Instead, Brin seems to place great confidence in the power of social norms
alone to tame the threat that expansive video surveillance presents to individual liberty. Yet a
state with a strong interest in acquiring information might not be any more deterred by
existing privacy norms than it is by existing norms against rummaging through garbage or the
use of false friends.375
Apart from overestimating the power of privacy norms to stave off pervasive monitoring, this argument also
underestimates the role that law can play in shaping emerging technologies . Brin
sometimes seems to view law as condemned simply to react to changes in the social and technological landscape: certain
technologies alter the world we live in, and courts must then adapt themselves to this world.376 But rather than simply
act
as passive witnesses to major technological changes, courts can and should play a role in
determining how such developments unfold .
More specifically, when the architecture of privacy begins to break down under pressure from new surveillance technologies,
courts can do two things to restore their privacy-protecting functions. First, when architectural
barriers cease to keep out prying government eyes, laws might do so instead.377 As Lawrence Lessig has
observed, architectures, norms, and laws (and, he adds, market forces) all function as constraints on behavior, and one sort of
constraint can often be substituted with, or supported by, another.378 Thus, even if someone could conceivably look
through a crack in a closed door or a tear in a closed envelope, there are long-standing social norms
against exploiting the imperfections of privacy's architecture to eavesdrop or spy. Brin himself exploits
this interchangeability when he assumes that social norms will shield privacy when our technologically transformed environment no
longer does so.379 Like norms, law can also serve as such a functional substitute for architectures of
privacy-and often do so more effectively . In fact, Fourth Amendment law in particular has already
been used to patch up architectural failures: it has been used to exclude observers outside a
home or other private enclave from looking in when walls no longer provide a reliable shield
against visual or aural spying. Thus, Katz forbade the use of an electronic bugging device to record the conversation
within a phone booth, and Kyllo forbade the use of an infrared reader to build "images" of activities within a home.380 And while
courts have not yet acted to shore up the architecture that underlies privacy and anonymity in public space, they can do so here as
well.
There is a second respect in which Fourth Amendment law might bolster privacy protections
eroded by new technologies. Rather than simply treating law as a substitute for architecture, courts can view it
as a determinant of architecture . As Lessig stresses, it is a mistake to treat an architecture as an
unalterable given, because laws on the Internet can reshape the basic characteristics of Cyberspace,
and the physical and social environment too is amenable to legislative and judicial
control.381 Often, of course, courts are less well-equipped to mandate specific changes in architecture than they are to impose
specific legal prohibitions. But by making it clear, for example, that Fourth Amendment
principles demand certain limits on observation , courts might spur others,
including perhaps law enforcement agencies themselves, to build such constitutional
limits into the technology of surveillance they use or the procedures for using it . The
Supreme Court did exactly this in United States v. Place and United States v. Jacobsen by
outlining a constitutional safe harbor of sorts for surveillance technologies that could narrowly
reveal nothing more than specific illicit substances.382 And a new Fourth Amendment
jurisprudence might likewise give technology developers and law enforcement agencies reason to
build new protections into their public surveillance systems as well as those aimed at
"private" spaces.
That ruling spills over and sets a legal precedent for the protection of privacy in
public spaces --- the effect of the plan is to rule that laws authorizing video
surveillance conducted by federal, state and local law enforcement are
unconstitutional
Rushin 11 [Stephen, PhD student at the University of California, Berkeley, Jurisprudence and
Social Policy Program; J.D., University of California, Berkeley Law School, University of Illinois
Journal of Law, Technology & Policy, “The Judicial Response to Mass Police Surveillance,” 2011
U. Ill. J.L. Tech. & Pol'y 281, lexis] //khirn
Law enforcement technology has become ubiquitous in the urban landscape . Closed circuit
surveillance cameras indiscriminately record individuals' physical movements. n1 Facial
recognition software compares images of passing pedestrians with extensive databases of
suspected criminals. n2 Red light cameras capture photographs of traffic violations. The National
Security Agency (NSA) logs phone calls made by millions of citizens across the country in hopes of identifying suspected terrorist
activity. n3 And automatic license plate recognition (ALPR) systems, already in use in various jurisdictions across the country,
digitally read and record the license plates of passing automobiles into expansive databases. n4 Indeed, we live today in an
increasingly digitally efficient investigative state - a state where law enforcement can both
observe and record information about our whereabouts in an unprecedentedly efficient manner.
The retention of surveillance data raises many serious constitutional concerns. But Fourth
Amendment doctrine on search and seizures reflects outdated assumptions about the oncelimited capabilities of public surveillance technologies and is, therefore, ill-equipped to deal
with the challenges posed by the digitally efficient investigative state.
The existing Fourth Amendment doctrine on surveillance technologies [*283] focuses primarily on three
issues: (1) whether a person had a subjective expectation of privacy; (2) the socially objective
reasonableness of that expectation of privacy; and (3) the relative intrusiveness of the supposed
privacy violation. n5 The Supreme Court has also drawn a distinction between presumptively
constitutional technologies that merely improve the efficiency of legitimate law enforcement, like digital tracking devices,
and unconstitutional technologies that give law enforcement an intrusive extrasensory ability,
like heat sensors. n6 Under this framework, the warrantless use of most surveillance technologies and the
collection of personal data fits comfortably within constitutional doctrine - after all, a person does not have an
objectively reasonable expectation to privacy when driving her car or walking on a public sidewalk. The recording of a person's
movements in public is not especially intrusive and certainly does not provide police with any intrusive, extrasensory abilities
beyond mere observation. A recent Seventh Circuit case engaged in just this type of analysis when it found that the warrantless use
of global position system (GPS) surveillance by law enforcement did not violate the Fourth Amendment. n7 There, Judge Posner and
the Seventh Circuit concluded that GPS monitoring of a single suspect without a warrant does not amount to "wholesale
surveillance." n8 But Posner quickly pointed out, "Technological progress poses a threat to privacy by enabling an extent of
surveillance that in earlier times would have been prohibitively expensive ... . Should government someday decide to
institute a program of mass surveillance of vehicular movements, it will be time enough to decide whether the Fourth
Amendment should be interpreted to treat such surveillance as a search." n9
That time has come. The digitally efficient investigative state comes
dangerously close to "wholesale
surveillance." The unregulated use of these emerging technologies may incentivize police fishing
expeditions, facilitate racial profiling, and corrode any notion of public anonymity .
And the legislative branch has not acted to address the tangible harms posed by this new technological order. In
wake of the legislative inactivity, I argue that it is finally time for the courts to break from the
previous doctrinal trend and act decisively to regulate the efficiency of police
surveillance technology . While a judicial response may help ameliorate some of the pressing concerns raised by the
digitally efficient investigative state, it should only be the beginning of a broader reconceptualization of our Fourth Amendment doctrine. I argue, in particular, that we ought to
reassess our presumption that individuals have no reasonable expectation to privacy in
their public actions . In total, I hope to make two contributions with this Article, one descriptive and one normative.
Descriptively, I build a comprehensive account of the digitally efficient investigative state, and normatively I contend that the courts
must establish a new doctrinal path to regulate this technological order.
I have divided this Article into four parts. In Part I, I examine the use of [*284] ALPR, surveillance cameras with facial recognition,
and third-party databases as paradigmatic examples of intrusive, emerging technologies utilized by law enforcement in the digitally
efficient investigative state. In Part II, I outline the current Fourth Amendment doctrine on unreasonable search and seizures. Part
III considers the constitutionality of the digitally efficient investigative state under Fourth Amendment doctrine. Finally, Part IV
argues for a new doctrinal approach to regulate the digitally efficient investigative state and a broader re-conceptualization of our
understanding of the Fourth Amendment.
Restricting video surveillance to selective warrants mean that some use of limited
video against specific individuals can be used if a security risk justifies it, which
eradicates the vast majority of video surveillance activities
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
2. Selective Warrants.-Apart
from employing general time, space, and purpose constraints of the sort
they have used in other "warrantless search" cases,514 courts might also resort to a more
traditional means of limiting video surveillance: the warrant requirement itself. Of course, when
government insists on the necessity of regularly keeping watch over subways and other public spaces, it may not be practical to
require that it seek a warrant each time it does so. But courts might find a place for a warrant in a surveillance
process by addressing such a process piece-by-piece. Even when use of a video camera is
permissible without a warrant, use of zoom lenses to scrutinize someone or use of facial
recognition technology to identify them might not be. Indeed, the District of Columbia City
Council, the Virginia Legislature, and the California Legislature have all considered precisely
such a "selective warrant" scheme, although Virginia and California ultimately opted not to adopt it.
Such a scheme helps answer one of the central concerns about placing Fourth Amendment
limits on video surveillance. As the Supreme Court noted in Ciraolo, one of the reasons for rejecting substantial
restrictions of the police's ability to make observations in public space is that the government needs some space where it can freely
gather the information that it needs to justify the more intensive type of search that is possible only with a warrant.515 Allowing for
warrantless observation with basic video camera technology might give it such space and give it enough opportunity to collect the
information it needs to decide for itself (and to allow a neutral magistrate to decide) whether magnification, biometric technology, or
later viewing of recorded footage is necessary to engage in a more focused searching of particular places or individuals.
Such a proposal also puts significant constraints on the most privacy-damaging aspects of
modern video surveillance. As I noted earlier, the greatest threats posed by video surveillance result
not simply from the government's pointing a camera at public space, as various cities have experimented with doing since the
1960s, but from recent technological developments allowing camera operators to establish links
between multiple cameras and to store, search, or closely scrutinize images
captured by these cameras.516 It is not merely the use of video cameras, but substantial recording
of images, and searching of stored images, for example, which threatens to transform our
spontaneous behavior in public places into permanent, and possibly misleading, records for which we will be
accountable. It is linking between cameras-as well as new tracking and biometric technologies-that
allows governments to reconstruct people's activities and retrace their movements through a
given day. And it is magnification and biometric technologies that allow camera operators
to closely scrutinize or identify people whose identity and detailed behavior is otherwise
likely to remain unknown.
1ac – framing
The judge should make an ethical decision about systemic violence – this requires
setting aside issues of political expediency. Concerns with political will or scarce
resources makes possible violence against women
Enloe 4 [Cynthia, prof of IR, The Curious Feminist, p. 74]
Thus we
need to become more curious about the process of trivialization. How exactly do regimes,
the press go about making any incident of violence
against women appear trivial? The gendered violence can be explained as inevitable- that is, not
worth the expenditure of political capital. Or it can be treated by the trivializers as numerically
inconsequential, so rare that it would seem wasteful of scarce political will or state resources to try
to prevent it. Third, trivialization can be accomplished by engaging in comparisons: how can one spend limited political
attention on, say, domestic violence or forced prostitution when there are market forces like
global competition, structural adjustment, or nuclear testing to deal with- as if, that is, none of
those had any relationship to the incidence of violence against women? Finally, trivialization may take the
opposition parties, judges, popular movements, and
form of undermining the credibility of the messenger. As early as the 1800's trivializers already were labeling women who spoke out
publicly against violence against women as "loose," "prudish," or disappointed (it would be the trivializers twentieth century
successors who would thing to add "lesbian").
And, the way we frame our policies matters – politics is about unconscious moral
values which are created and maintained through rhetoric. Justification matters
for effective policymaking
Rockridge Institute 7 [“Frames and Framing,” progressive think tank that uses neuroscience
and cognitive linguistics to shape argument form and phrasing for progressive values, former
website: rockridge institute.org/aboutus/frames-and-framing/index.html, link not active
currently]
Expressing progressive political ideas and values effectively begins with understanding frames. Frames are
the mental structures that allow human beings to understand reality – and sometimes to create
what we take to be reality. Contemporary research on the brain and the mind has shown that most
thought – most of what the brain does – is below the level of consciousness, and these unconscious
thoughts frame conscious thought in ways that are not obvious. These mental structures , or frames,
appear in and operate through the words we use to discuss the world around us,
including politics . Frames simultaneously shape our thinking and language at multiple levels – the level of
moral values, the level of political principles, the level of issue areas (e.g., the environment), the level of a single issue (e.g., the
Successful political arguments depend
as much on a well-articulated moral frame as they do on policy details – often
more . The most effective political messages are those that clearly and coherently link an issue
area, single issue, or specific policy to fundamental moral values and political principle frames. Rockridge is the only
climate crisis), and the level of specific policy (e.g., cap-and-auction).
progressive think tank that takes such a comprehensive view of framing and messaging. The primary determinant of how someone
thinks about politics is what we refer to as their fundamental moral frame or their moral worldview. Progressive politics is about
morality, about doing what is right. That moral frame is not always obvious, yet it can be stated simply: Progressives care about
people and the earth, and act responsibly on that sense of care. All other progressive values – freedom, fairness, equality, security,
opportunity, honesty, community, and all the rest – flow from that basic moral understanding of how people should act in the world.
Conservatives have been more effective than progressives at getting their worldview, or moral frame, into public discourse. So
effective, that progressives all too often adopt conservative frames – as members of Congress did in adopting the
President’s “unitary executive” frame which defined Congress as responsible for carrying out his mission – and thus primarily
responsible for the safety of the troops. Congress may argue against the President’s Iraq policy, but when they do so using his
words, and thus his fundamental moral frame, they
put themselves at a distinct disadvantage. It is nearly
impossible to persuasively present a progressive policy using conservative language and frames.
The debate on the U.S. response to 9/11 is a great example of how frames work. The phrases “war on terror” and “crimes against
humanity” use different words to frame the same issue and, in doing so, evoke different ideas and guide us toward different actions.
The phrase “war on terror” frames the issue as an open-ended military action against a vague, indeterminate enemy, with openended war powers given to the President for an indefinite period. “Crimes against humanity” frames our response to 9/11 as a police
action where international law enforcement agencies are directed to root out groups and individual criminals using many of the
these phrases trigger related moral and
political principle frames deep in our unconscious minds, shaping how we
experience our relationships to our political leaders and to people in other
countries . “War” triggers fundamental moral and political principle frames that evoke an evil world in which we must look to
same methods effective against crime syndicates. Further,
an authoritarian President as commander-in-chief, whose orders we obey in order to protect our entire society from destruction by
foreign enemies. With these frames dominating our thinking, we are more likely to tolerate giving up some of our civil liberties and
dropping bombs that kill innocent civilians. By contrast, “crimes against humanity,” as both a word and issue frame, triggers deep
moral and political principle frames of an interdependent world where dangers occur, but they are not debilitating. With this frame
foremost in our minds, we are more likely to protect society by enlisting the police, while also reaching out to our neighbors, who are
suffering in other countries where poverty, disease, and opposition make it more likely that people will become terrorists. The
persistent repetition of the “war on terror” word and issue frame triggers and reinforces deep moral and political principle frames.
So, even when someone opposes the Iraq policy, they often do it by invoking the frame they wish to negate. This is why
Americans who want to shift the ideas underlying American political debate – towards a greater emphasis on
the values of empathy, social responsibility, fairness, honesty, integrity, and community – must
do so by changing the
deep moral and political principle frames that we use in thinking. We do this in large part by stating these
frames openly and often. In other words, it is nearly impossible to persuasively articulate a law enforcement policy on Iraq when one
is continually using the phrase “war on terror.” Frames matter. Our fundamental moral frame, our
worldview, determines how we experience and think about every aspect of our lives, from child
rearing to healthcare, from public transportation to national security, from religion to love of country. Yet, people are typically
unconscious of how their fundamental moral frames shape their political positions. The Rockridge Institute works to make that
thinking more explicit in order to improve political debate.
People have a cognitive bias against high probability-low magnitude impacts. You
should undervalue their DAs – the longer the chain of events the less likely the
scenario
Yudkowsky 6 [Eliezer, 8/31/2006. Singularity Institute for Artificial Intelligence Palo Alto,
CA. “Cognitive biases potentially affecting judgment of global risks, Forthcoming in Global
Catastrophic Risks, eds. Nick Bostrom and Milan Cirkovic, singinst.org/upload/cognitivebiases.pdf]
The conjunction fallacy similarly applies to futurological forecasts.
Two independent sets of professional
analysts at the Second International Congress on Forecasting were asked to rate, respectively, the probability of "A complete
suspension of diplomatic relations between the USA and the Soviet Union, sometime in 1983" or "A Russian invasion of Poland,
and a complete suspension of diplomatic relations between the USA and the Soviet Union, sometime in 1983". The second set of
analysts responded with significantly higher probabilities. (Tversky and Kahneman 1983.) In Johnson et. al. (1993), MBA
students at Wharton were scheduled to travel to Bangkok as part of their degree program. Several groups of students were asked
how much they - 6 - were willing to pay for terrorism insurance. One group of subjects was asked how much they were willing to
pay for terrorism insurance covering the flight from Thailand to the US. A second group of subjects was asked how much they were
willing to pay for terrorism insurance covering the round-trip flight. A third group was asked how much they were willing to pay
for terrorism insurance that covered the complete trip to Thailand. These three groups responded with average willingness to pay of
$17.19, $13.90, and $7.44 respectively. According to probability theory, adding additional detail onto a
story must render the story less probable.
It is less probable that Linda is a feminist bank teller than that she is a
Yet human psychology seems to follow the
rule that adding an additional detail can make the story more plausible. People might pay more for
bank teller, since all feminist bank tellers are necessarily bank tellers.
international diplomacy intended to prevent nanotechnological warfare by China, than for an engineering project to defend against
nanotechnological attack from any source. The second threat scenario is less vivid and alarming, but the defense is more useful
because it is more vague. More valuable still would be strategies which make humanity harder to extinguish without being specific
to nanotechnologic threats - such as colonizing space, or see Yudkowsky (this volume) on AI. Security expert Bruce Schneier
observed (both before and after the 2005 hurricane in New Orleans) that the U.S. government was guarding specific domestic
targets against "movie-plot scenarios" of terrorism, at the cost of taking away resources from emergency-response capabilities that
could respond to any disaster. (Schneier 2005.) Overly detailed reassurances can also create false perceptions of safety: "X is not
an existential risk and you don't need to worry about it, because A, B, C, D, and E"; where the failure of any one of propositions A,
B, C, D, or E potentially extinguishes the human species. "We don't need to worry about nanotechnologic war, because a UN
commission will initially develop the technology and prevent its proliferation until such time as an active shield is developed,
capable of defending against all accidental and malicious outbreaks that contemporary nanotechnology is capable of producing, and
this condition will persist indefinitely." Vivid, specific scenarios can inflate our probability estimates of
security, as well as misdirecting defensive investments into needlessly narrow or implausibly
detailed risk scenarios. More generally, people tend to overestimate conjunctive probabilities
and underestimate disjunctive probabilities. (Tversky and Kahneman 1974.) That is, people tend to
overestimate the probability that, e.g., seven events of 90% probability will all occur. Conversely,
people tend to underestimate the probability that at least one of seven events of 10% probability
will occur. Someone judging whether to, e.g., incorporate a new startup, must evaluate the probability that many individual
events will all go right (there will be sufficient funding, competent employees, customers will want the product) while also
considering the likelihood that at least one critical failure will occur (the bank refuses - 7 - a loan, the biggest project fails, the lead
scientist dies). This may help explain why only 44% of entrepreneurial ventures3 survive after 4 years. (Knaup 2005.) Dawes
(1988) observes: 'In their summations lawyers avoid arguing from disjunctions ("either this or that or the other could have
occurred, all of which would lead to the same conclusion") in favor of conjunctions. Rationally, of course, disjunctions
are much more probable than are conjunctions.' The scenario of humanity going extinct in the
next century is a disjunctive event. It could happen as a result of any of the existential risks
discussed in this book - or some other cause which none of us foresaw. Yet for a futurist, disjunctions make for an awkward and
unpoetic-sounding prophecy.
Experts can’t predict political and economic outcomes even on the most basic level
Menand 5 [Louis, PhD from Columbia U, former prof at CUNY and Harvard, Dec 5,
“Everybody’s An Expert,” 2005
http://www.newyorker.com/archive/2005/12/05/051205crbo_books1]
“Expert Political Judgment” is not a work of media criticism. Tetlock
is a psychologist—he teaches at Berkeley—and his
conclusions are based on a long-term study that he began twenty years ago. He picked two
hundred and eighty-four people who made their living “commenting or offering advice on
political and economic trends,” and he started asking them to assess the probability that various
things would or would not come to pass, both in the areas of the world in which they specialized
and in areas about which they were not expert. Would there be a nonviolent end to apartheid in South Africa?
Would Gorbachev be ousted in a coup? Would the United States go to war in the Persian Gulf? Would Canada disintegrate? (Many
experts believed that it would, on the ground that Quebec would succeed in seceding.) And so on. By the end of the study, in
2003, the experts had made 82,361 forecasts. Tetlock also asked questions designed to determine how they reached
their judgments, how they reacted when their predictions proved to be wrong, how they evaluated new information that did not
support their views, and how they assessed the probability that rival theories and predictions were accurate. Tetlock got a statistical
handle on his task by putting most of the forecasting questions into a “three possible futures” form. The respondents were
asked to rate the probability of three alternative outcomes: the persistence of the status quo, more of
something (political freedom, economic growth), or less of something (repression, recession). And he measured his experts on two
dimensions: how good they were at guessing probabilities (did all the things they said had an x per cent chance of happening happen
x per cent of the time?), and how accurate they were at predicting specific outcomes. The results were unimpressive. On
the first scale, the experts
performed worse than they would have if they had simply assigned an
equal probability to all three outcomes—if they had given each possible future a thirty-three-per-cent chance of
occurring. Human beings who spend their lives studying the state of the world , in other words, are
poorer forecasters than dart-throwing monkeys, who would have distributed their picks evenly
over the three choices.
Political developments are unverifiable media fabrications
Edelman 87 [Murray, Professor of Political Science at the University of Wisconsin,
“Constructing the Political Spectacle,” Pg. 104]
It is language about political events, not the events in any other sense, that people experience;
even developments that are close by take their meaning from the language that depicts them. So political language is political reality;
there is no other so far as the meaning of events to actors and spectators is concerned. But that statement poses the problem rather
than resolving it for it challenges us to examine the complex link between language and meaning. Every sentence is ambiguous.
Dictionaries cannot tell us what language means; the social situations and the concerns of human beings who think and act define
meanings. An increase in the defense budget signifies security for some and insecurity for others. The same is true of gun control,
capital punishment, and most other governmental actions. Wider eligibility for welfare benefits means encouragement of laziness
and incompetence to many, and it means the safeguarding of lives and dignity to many others. An action typically carries
out different meanings in different situations. Language about politics is a clue to the
speaker’s view of reality at the time, just as an audience’s interpretation of the same language is
a clue to what may be a different reality for them. If there are no conflicts over meaning, the issue is not political,
by definition. Political developments and the language that describes them are ambiguous because
the aspects of events, leaders, and policies that most decisively affect current and future wellbeing are uncertain, unknowable, and the focus of disputed claims and competing symbols. Even where there is
consensus about what observably happened or was said, there are conflicting assumptions about the cause of
events, the motives of officials and interest groups, and the consequences of courses of action. So
it is not what can be seen that shapes political action and support, but what must be supposed,
assumed, or constructed. Do foreign troops in a troubled region encourage peace or more intensive fighting? Is Ronald
Reagan a well-meaning and effective leader who represents the common people’s aspirations against elitist liberals and intellectuals,
or is he an articulate front for mean-spirited corporate executives and a menace to the poor? There
is no way to
establish the validity of any of those positions to the satisfaction of those who have
material or moral reason to hold a different view. Reason and rationalization are intertwined.
That intertwining and the impossibility of marshalling evidence that is persuasive to everyone ate the hallmarks of political
argument; they are not the occasional or the regrettable exceptional case. Ambiguity, contradiction, and evocations that reflect
material situations are central and pervasive. In short, it is not “reality” in any testable or observable sense that matters in shaping
political consciousness and behavior, but rather the beliefs that language helps evoke about the causes of discontents and
satisfactions, about policies that will bring about a future closer to the heart’s desire, and about other unobservables. Their social
situations make people sensitive to some political news, promises, and threats and insensitive to other communications.
Descriptions of peace as the mere absence of war prevent solutions to larger-scale
security threats and recreates those problems. A concept of “female security”
challenges and overcomes institutionalized IR
Shepherd 9 [Laura J. Dept of Political Science and International Studies, U of Birmingham
(UK), “Gender, Violence and Global Politics: Contemporary Debates in Feminist Security
Studies,” Political Studies Review, V7 I2, Apr]
According to conventional accounts of international relations (IR), scholars focus on war (predominantly as a means to providing
the sovereign state with security) and the existence of war's corollary is a foundational assumption that goes largely unquestioned.
Peace must exist, for international relations are not characterised by perpetual conflict. However, peace is implicitly
defined, in dichotomous terms, by the absence of violent conflict, as 'not-war'. Of more analytical interest is
conflict, which is always a possibility and which, moreover, occurs between states. International relations as a
discipline, narrowly conceived, is largely unconcerned with activities that occur within the state.
Minimally, feminist and other critical approaches to IR seek to correct such disciplinary myopia. While classical realism theorises
the political actor –Hans Morgenthau's 'political man' (1973, pp. 15–6) – in order to construct the state as actor, the now dominant
neo-realism abstracts the human subject from its disciplinary musings, leading to the infamous 'black box' model of the state. Early
feminist scholarship challenged this assumption as well, arguing that individuals, as human subjects in all their messy complexity,
are an integral part of international relations (see Shepherd, 2007, pp. 240–1). Attention to the human subject in
I/international R/relations – or, as Christine Sylvester phrases it, 'relations international', to
emphasise the embedded
nature of all kinds of relations in the international sphere, including power relations and gender
relations (Sylvester, 1994, p. 6; see also Enloe, 1996) – allows critical scholars to look beyond the disciplinary
obsession with war. Further, it allows us to investigate one of the simplest insights of feminist
IR, which is also one of the most devastating: the war/peace dichotomy is gendered, misleading
and potentially pathological. In this essay, I address each of these concerns in turn, developing a critique of the war/peace
dichotomy that is foundational to conventional approaches to IR through a review of three recent publications in the field of feminist
security studies. These texts are Cynthia Enloe's (2007) Globalization and Militarism, David Roberts' (2008) Human Insecurity, and
Mothers, Monsters, Whores: Women's Violence in Global Politics by Laura Sjoberg and Caron Gentry (2008). Drawing on the
insights of these books, I ask first how violence is understood in global politics, with specific reference to the gendered disciplinary
blindnesses that frequently characterise mainstream approaches. Second, I demonstrate how a focus on war and peace can neglect to
take into account the politics of everyday violence: the violences of the in-between times that international politics recognises
neither as 'war' nor 'peace' and the violences inherent to times of peace that are overlooked in the study of war. Finally, I argue that
feminist security studies offers an important corrective to the foundational
assumptions of IR, which themselves can perpetuate the very instances of violence
that they seek to redress. If we accept the core insights of feminist security studies – the
centrality of the human subject, the importance of particular configurations of masculinity and
femininity, and the gendered conceptual framework that underpins the discipline of IR – we are
encouraged to envisage a rather different politics of the global. From Boudica to Bhopal As Sjoberg and
Gentry recount (2008, pp. 38–9), Boudica was an Iceni queen who led an uprising against the Roman forces occupying the British
Isles circa 61 AD. Prior to launching the attack, Boudica's refusal to allow a Roman general to claim ownership of her land resulted in
the rape of her two daughters as punishment. However, 'many inherited tales about Boudica do not emphasise her personal or
political motivations, but the savage and unwomanly brutality of her actions' (Sjoberg and Gentry, 2008, p. 39). Almost two
thousand years later and half a planet away, a toxic gas leak in 1984 at a Union Carbide plant in Bhopal, India caused the immediate
deaths of approximately 3,000 people and left tens of thousands suffering the after-effects for decades (Roberts, 2008, p. 10). At
first reading, little links these two accounts of quite different forms of violence. The first is an instance of violent resistance against
imperial oppression, and Boudica has been vilified, her efforts delegitimised, in much the same way as many actors in 'small wars'
tend to be in global politics today (see Barkawi, 2004). The second is perhaps more usefully seen as the result of structural violence,
following Johan Galtung's explanation of the same, as 'violence where there is no such actor' (cited in Roberts, 2008, p. 18).
However, by asking questions about Boudica and Bhopal that are born of a 'feminist curiosity' (Enloe, 2007, p. 1, p. 11), these texts
demonstrate connections beyond the simplistic equation that is applicable to both: actor/structure plus violence equals death. In
Human Insecurity, Roberts poses the question, 'What is violence?' (2008, p. 17). This is a question rarely asked in international
relations. Violence is war: large-scale, state-dominated, much studied, war. However, the three texts under review here all offer more
nuanced theories of violence that focus analytical attention on complex constructions of agency (institutional and international),
structure, and the global context that is product and productive of such violence. Through an intricate and beautifully accessible
analysis of modernity –'that pot of gold at the end of the global rainbow' (Enloe, 2007, p. 64) – Enloe encourages her readers to seek
the connections between globalisation and militarisation, arguing that at the heart of this nexus lie important questions about
violence and security. Roberts notes a broad dissatisfaction with the concept of 'human security' (2008, pp. 14–7), offering instead
his investigative lens of 'human insecurity', defined as 'avoidable civilian deaths, occurring globally, caused by social, political and
economic institutions and structures, built and operated by humans and which could feasibly be changed' (p. 28). Placing the human
at the centre of concerns about security immediately challenges a conventional state-based approach to security, as Enloe explains.
In a convincing account of the hard-fought expansion of the concept of security, mapped on to strategic and organisational gains
if we take seriously the lives of women –
their understandings of security – as well as on-the-ground workings of
masculinity and femininity, we will be able to produce more meaningful and more
reliable analyses of 'security'– personal, national and global (Enloe, 2007, p. 47). This latter
made by various feminist organisations, Enloe reminds us that
quote typifies an approach for which Enloe has become somewhat famous. In the early 1980s, Enloe began asking the questions for
which she is rightly acknowledged as a key figure in feminist security studies, including Does Khaki Become You? (Enloe, 1983) and
'where are the women?' (Enloe, 2000; see also Enloe, 2004). Inspired by her own curiosity about the roles played by women and the
functions performed by gender in the militarisation of civilian life, Enloe has explored prostitution, marriage, welfare and war
making with an eye to the representation (both political and symbolic) of women. In Globalization and Militarism she offers detailed
vignettes that illuminate just how interwoven violence is with the quest for (various types of) security, and demands that nothing is
left unquestioned in a critical analysis of these concepts. Even baby socks (embossed with tiny fighter planes, a gift to the parent of a
small boy) have something to tell us about gender, militarism and the casual representations of violence and war that society accepts
(Enloe, 2007, pp. 143–4). Following a similar logic, although he initially defines human insecurity as avoidable civilian deaths,
Roberts focuses on 'preventable female deaths ... and avoidable deaths in children under five' (2008, p. 31). While this conflation of
'civilian' with 'women and children' is rather problematic (see Carpenter, 2006), in asking not only, where are the women? but also,
why are they dying in such disproportionate numbers? Roberts enhances his critique of 'most security studies ... [that] largely [miss]
the scale of avoidable human misery and avoidable human death' (2008, p. 4). As mentioned above, Roberts uses Galtung's
concept of structural violence to draw attention to the manifest ways in which an increasingly
interconnected global system relies on gender and violence (and gendered violence) for its
perpetuation: 'The process of globalization, to which few are ideologically or otherwise opposed, is an essential
conveyor and articulator of the masculinity that underpins andrarchy' (Roberts, 2008, p. 157). Whereas
Enloe offers a persuasive and accessible account of patriarchy, a concept familiar to feminist and non-feminist scholars alike (Enloe,
2007, pp. 66–8), Roberts suggests 'andrarchy' as an alternative, which he defines as 'the gender-partisan ideological domination and
rule structure that determines and sustains the general relative power of males over females globally' (Roberts, 2008, p. 140).
However, it is difficult to see how this reformulation either differs substantively from patriarchy as an analytical tool or assists in the
construction of an alternative theory of global violence that centralises the individual, and therefore takes gender seriously, in that it
seems to essentialise violent actors (males) and violated victims (females). In contrast, Enloe's explanation of patriarchy
challenges such essentialism as its first point of critical intervention. That is, the assumption of
essential differences between men and women is part of patriarchal ideology, feeding into
stereotypical notions of how such men and women should behave, which in turn constitute
recognisable discourses of gender: sets of narratives about masculinity and femininity and how
these are, in general, respectively privileged and marginalised. The most theoretically coherent account of
gender and violence offered in these three texts comes from Sjoberg and Gentry and employs the notion of discourse to great effect.
Whereas Roberts seeks to map out a consciously structural account of global violence, where the structure in question is a hybrid of
andrarchy and a 'rapacious, increasingly competitive and hyper-masculine' neoliberalism (Roberts, 2008, p. 118), Sjoberg and
Gentry offer a more sophisticated analysis of structure and agency in their 'relational autonomy framework' that accounts for both
individual agency and structural constraint (Sjoberg and Gentry, 2008, pp. 189–98). When people perform acts of political violence,
they argue, this is a conscious choice, but crucially individuals 'choose within a specified spectrum of socially acceptable choices' (p.
190). 'In its simplest form, relational autonomy is the recognition that freedom of action is defined and limited by social
relationships' (p. 194) and this has profound implications for the study of violence in global politics. Sjoberg and Gentry use this
insight to demonstrate that women's violence in global politics is rendered unintelligible, through narrative representations of the
perpetrators as mothers, monsters or whores (in media discourse and academic discussion), rather than as autonomous agents.
From the abuses of prisoners held at Abu Ghraib prison in Iraq, via the 'black widows' of Chechnya, to female perpetrators of
genocidal violence in Rwanda, the authors show how representations of women's violence conform to and further confirm the
stereotypes of violent women as either mothers (supporting or vengeful), monsters or sexually deviant whores (Sjoberg and Gentry,
2008, pp. 30–49). The very different theories of violence outlined in these three texts all contribute to the development of a more
comprehensive and holistic understanding of violence in global politics. By insisting that international relations are
also gender relations – by demanding that we recognise that states are an analytical abstraction
and politics is practised or performed by gendered bodies – all of the authors put forward theories
of violence that are corrective of gender blindness, in that the violences in question are
simultaneously gendered and gendering (see Shepherd, 2008, pp. 49–54). They are gendered because they have
different impacts on male and female bodies (Enloe, 2007, p. 13), both materially as people experience violence differently
depending on their gender (and race, class, sexuality and so on) and also discursively, as what we expect of men and women in terms
of their behaviours, violent and otherwise, is limited by the meaning(s) ascribed to male and female bodies by society. Regarding the
former, Roberts proposes that we term the global victimisation of women 'structural femicide' (Roberts, 2008, p. 65), but does not
sufficiently engage with the question of whether defining gendered violence as violence against women (and children) functions to
constitute the subject of 'woman' as a perpetual victim, in need of protection and lacking in agency (Shepherd, 2008, p. 41). In
contrast, Sjoberg and Gentry neatly articulate the interplay between material and discursive violence as they write a theory that
accounts 'for people's impact on global politics and for the impact of narratives others construct for and about them' (Sjoberg and
Gentry, 2008, p. 216, emphasis in original). Thus, violence is gendering as our understanding of politics is in part reproduced
through violent actions. Through discursive violence against individuals – for example, representing Chechen
women suicide terrorists as 'black widows', which demands that they are attributed the characteristics of the venomous and deadly
black widow spider and, further, that their violence is grounded in familial loss, 'born directly of a desire for vengeance for the
deaths of their husbands and sons' (Sjoberg and Gentry, 2008, p. 100) rather than as the result of a process of political decision
making – our understanding of that individual and of the act of violence itself is produced. Similarly,
through material acts of violence, discourses of gender are given physical form; the detainees at Abu Ghraib who were forced to
simulate oral sex with each other were forced to do so in part because of crude cultural understandings of homosexuality as deviant
and homosexuals as lesser men – that is, as women. To force a man to perform oral sex on another man is to undermine his
masculinity and simultaneously to reinforce the gendered power relations that claim privilege for masculinity over femininity,
heterosexuality over homosexuality – power relations that render such an act intelligible in the first instance. Such understandings
of violence are beyond the remit of conventional state-based approaches to international relations. However, 'it is by tracking
the gendered assumptions about how to wield feminization to humiliate male[s]' (Enloe, 2007, p. 115)
and how to represent gendered individuals in such a way as to render some acts of violence
intelligible as political and others as monstrous that we can begin to piece together a useful
feminist account of global violence, which is a necessary component of understanding security.
Everyday Violence and In-Between Days In addition to questioning what violence is, how it is represented and with what effects,
feminist security studies scholarship also asks which violences are considered worthy of study
and when these violences occur. Expanding the concept of violence that underpins feminist analysis, as outlined above,
allows us to take seriously what Arthur Kleinman (2000) refers to as 'the violences of everyday life'. Beyond a narrow focus
on war and state-based violence lies a plethora of everyday violences that feminist security
studies seeks to address. In the field of security studies the broadening and deepening of the concept of security,
such that it is no longer assumed to apply only to the sovereign state, has demonstrated the
multiple insecurities experienced by individuals and social collectives (Booth, 2005, pp. 14–5). The
development of the concept of 'human security' largely took place within the parameters of a wider disciplinary debate over the
appropriate referent object for security studies (the individual, society, the state) and the types of threat to the referent object that
would be recognised. In a move similar to Ken Booth's (1991) reformulation of security as emancipation, Roberts' quest for
individual empowerment seeks to overcome the 'élite-legitimized disequilibrium' that results in the manifest
insecurity of the majority of the world's population (Roberts, 2008, p. 185). As might be expected, the violences
Roberts identifies are innumerable. In addition to the physical violences of 'infanticide, maternal mortality, intimate
("domestic", "honour" and "dowry") killings and lethal female genital mutilation; and avoidable deaths in children under five'
(Roberts, 2008, p. 31), his analysis attacks the institutional structures of the dominant international financial
institutions (pp. 117–35) and the andrarchal and neoliberal discourses that sustain them (pp. 136–58). In short,
Roberts' answer to the question of which violences matter in global politics is quite simple: all of them. However, while studies of
human security, he argues, seek to provide the human with security, his reformulated analytic takes as its starting point human
insecurity; that is, he starts with the threat(s) to the sovereign subject rather than the subject's ontological condition. Roberts
suggests that this circumvents the disciplinary definitional problem with human security – identified by Roland Paris (2001),
Edward Newman (2001; 2004) and others – but I cannot see how this is the case, given that the answer to the question 'what is it
that humans do to make the world a more dangerous and dysfunctional place?' (Roberts, 2008, p. 28) is also quite simple: we live in
it. Thus Roberts' analytic seems to suffer the same lack of definitional clarity – and therefore policy relevance – that he ascribes to
more conventional approaches; it is no easier to identify, quantify and ultimately reduce the threats experienced by coexisting
human subjects than it is to provide those human subjects with security, if security can first be defined as freedom from fear or want.
I do not espouse some construction of human nature (if such a thing were to exist) that assumes essential selfishness and a
propensity for violence, nor do I assume that security is a zero-sum game, in that one person's security must always be at the
expense of another's, but I recognise that even the most well-intentioned security policy can have unforeseen and sometimes
disastrous effects. Sometimes, moreover, as Sjoberg and Gentry demonstrate, the decision to perform acts of political violence that
are a source of insecurity for the intended victims can be understood if not condoned. Enloe's analytical remit is similarly wideranging to Roberts', in that she focuses on processes – globalisation and militarism – that are inherently violent. However, although
Enloe also insists that all violences should count in the study of global politics, she grounds this claim in an analysis of specific sites
of violence and demonstrates with startling clarity just how everyday items – for example, sneakers – are both globalised and
militarised: Threaded through virtually every sneaker you own is some relationship to masculinized militaries. Locating factories in
South Korea [in the 1960s and 1970s] was a good strategic decision in the eyes of those Oregon-headquartered male Nike executives
because of the close alliance between male policymakers in Washington and Seoul. It was a relationship – unequal but intimate –
based on their shared anticommunism, their shared commitment to waging the Cold War, and their shared participation in an
ambitious international military alliance (Enloe, 2007, p. 28). By drawing her readers' attention to the ways in which discourses of
gender (ideas about how 'proper' men and women should behave) function, Enloe reminds us that adhering to ideals of
masculinity and femininity is both productive of violence and is a violence in itself, a violence
against the empowered human subject. 'Ideas matter', she concludes, ideas about modernity, security,
violence, threat, trust. 'Each of these ideas is fraught with blatant and subtle presumptions about masculinity and femininity. Ideas
about both masculinity and femininity matter. This makes a feminist curiosity a necessity' (Enloe, 2007, p. 161). While
conventional studies of IR and security may be willing to concede that ideas matter (see Finnemore
and Sikkink, 2001), paying close attention to the work that gender does allows for a fuller
understanding of why it is that particular violences fall outside the traditional parameters of
study. As to the question of when violence is worthy of study, all three texts implicitly or explicitly draw on the popular feminist
phrase: 'the personal is political'. This slogan neatly encapsulates the feminist critique of a supposed foundational divide between
the private and the public realms of social life. In arguing that the personal is political, feminist theory refuses to accept that there
are instances of human behaviour or situations in social life that can or should be bracketed from study. At its simplest, this critique
led to the recognition of 'domestic violence' as a political, rather than a personal issue (see, for example Moore, 2003; Youngs,
2003), forming the foundation for critical studies of gendered violence in times of war and in times of peace that would otherwise
have been ignored. Crucially, Enloe extended the boundaries of critique to include the international, imbuing the phrase with new
analytical vitality when she suggested, first, that the phrase itself is palindromic (that is, that the political is also personal,
inextricably intertwined with the everyday) and, second, that the personal is international just as the international is personal. 'The
international is personal' implies that governments depend upon certain kinds of allegedly private relationships in order to conduct
their foreign affairs. ... To operate in the international arena, governments seek other governments' recognition of their sovereignty;
but they also depend on ideas about masculinised dignity and feminised sacrifice to sustain that sense of autonomous nationhood
(Enloe, 2000, pp. 196–7). These ideas about dignity and sacrifice are not neatly contained within the temporal boundaries of any
given war, nor are they incidental to the practice of warfare. Further, there is of course also the question of who gets to
define or declare war, or peace. While some of the violent women whose actions are analysed by Sjoberg and Gentry
perform their violences in wartime (for example, Lynndie England, who received the most attention from global media of the women
involved in prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib; see Sjoberg and Gentry, 2008, pp. 67–70), others are fighting wars that are
not sanctioned by the international community (such as the Chechen women [pp. 97–111] and female Palestinian
suicide bombers [pp. 112–40]). As discussed above, ideas about masculinity and femininity, dignity and sacrifice may not only be
violent in themselves, but are also the product/productive of physical violences. With this in mind, the
feminist argument that 'peacetime' is analytically misleading is a valid one. Of interest are the
'in-between days' and the ways in which labelling periods of war or peace as such can
divert attention away from the myriad violences that inform and reinforce social
behaviour . [W]ar can surely never be said to start and end at a clearly defined moment.
Rather, it seems part of a continuum of conflict, expressed now in armed force, now in economic
sanctions or political pressure. A time of supposed peace may come later to be called 'the prewar period'. During the fighting of a war, unseen by the foot soldiers under fire, peace processes are often
already at work. A time of postwar reconstruction, later, may be re-designated as an inter bellum–
a mere pause between wars (Cockburn and Zarkov, cited in El Jack, 2003, p. 9). Feminist security studies
interrogates the pauses between wars, and the political processes – and practices of power –
that demarcate times as such. In doing so, not only is the remit of recognisable violence (violence worthy
of study) expanded, but so too are the parameters of what counts as IR . Everyday violences and acts of
everyday resistance ('a fashion show, a tour, a small display of children's books' in Enloe, 2007, pp. 117–20) are the stuff
of relations international and, thus, of a comprehensive understanding of security. In the following
section I outline the ways in which taking these claims seriously allows us to engage critically with the representations of
international relations that inform our research, with potentially profound implications. The Violent Reproduction of the
International As well as conceiving of gender as a set of discourses, and violence as a means of reproducing and reinforcing the
relevant discursive limits, it is possible to see security as a set of discourses , as I have argued more
fully elsewhere (Shepherd, 2007; 2008; see also Shepherd and Weldes, 2007). Rather than pursuing the study of security as if it
engaging with security as
discourse enables the analysis of how these discourses function to reproduce,
through various strategies, the domain of the international with which IR is selfconsciously concerned . Just as violences that are gendering reproduce gendered subjects, on this view states, acting as
were something that can be achieved either in absolute, partial or relative terms,
authoritative entities, perform violences, but violences, in the name of security, also perform states. These processes occur
simultaneously, and across the whole spectrum of social life: an instance of rape in war is at once gendering of the individuals
involved and of the social collectivities – states, communities, regions – they feel they represent (see Bracewell, 2000); building a
fence in the name of security that separates people from their land and extended families performs particular kinds of violence (at
checkpoints, during patrols) and performs particular subject identities (of the state authority, of the individuals affected), all of
which are gendered. All of the texts under discussion in this essay argue that it is imperative to explore and expose gendered power
relations and, further, that doing so not only enables a rigorous critique of realism in IR but also reminds us as scholars of the need
for such a critique. The critiques of IR offered by feminist scholars are grounded in a rejection of neorealism/realism
as a dominant intellectual framework for academics in the discipline and policy makers alike.
As Enloe reminds us, 'the government-centred, militarized version of national security [derived from a realist
framework] remains the dominant mode of policy thinking' (Enloe, 2007, p. 43). Situating gender as a
central category of analysis encourages us to 'think outside the "state security box"' (p. 47) and to
remember that 'the "individuals" of global politics do not work alone, live alone or politic alone – they do so in
interdependent relationships with others' (Sjoberg and Gentry, 2008, p. 200) that are inherently
gendered. One of the key analytical contributions of all three texts is the way in which they all challenge what it means to be
'doing' IR, by recognising various forms of violence, interrogating the public/private divide and demanding that attention is paid to
the temporal and physical spaces in-between war and peace. Feminist security studies should not simply be seen
as 'women doing security', or as 'adding women to IR/security studies', important as these contributions are. Through
their theorising, the authors discussed here reconfigure what 'counts' as IR, challenging orthodox notions of who can
'do' IR and what 'doing' IR means. The practices of power needed to maintain dominant configurations of
international relations are exposed, and critiquing the productive power of realism as a
discourse is one way in which the authors do this. Sjoberg and Gentry pick up on a recent theoretical shift in
Anglo-American IR, from system-level analysis to a recognition that individuals matter. However, as they rightly point out, the
individuals who are seen to matter are not gendered relational beings, but rather reminiscent of Hobbes' construction of the
autonomous rational actor. '[T]he narrowness of the group that [such an approach] includes limits its effectiveness as an interpretive
framework and reproduces the gender, class and race biases in system-level international relationship scholarship' (Sjoberg and
Gentry 2008, p. 200, emphasis added). Without paying adequate attention to the construction of
individuals as gendered beings, or to the reproduction of widely held ideas about masculine and
feminine behaviours, Sjoberg and Gentry remind us that we will ultimately fail 'to see and deconstruct the
increasingly subtle, complex and disguised ways in which gender pervades international
relations and global politics' (2008, p. 225). In a similar vein, Roberts notes that 'human security is marginalised or
rejected as inauthentic [because] it is not a reflection of realism's (male) agendas and priorities' (2008, p. 169). The 'agendas and
priorities' identified by Roberts and acknowledged by Sjoberg and Gentry as being productive of particular biases in scholarship are
not simply 'academic' matters, in the pejorative sense of the term. As Roberts argues, 'Power relationships of inequality happen
because they are built that way by human determinism of security and what is required to maintain security (p. 171). Realism, as
academic discourse and as policy guideline, has material effects. Although his analysis employs an unconventional definition of the
term 'social construction' (seemingly interchangeable with 'human agency') and rests on a novel interpretation of the three
foundational assumptions of realism (Roberts, 2008, pp. 169–77), the central point that Roberts seeks to make in his conclusion is
valid: 'it is a challenge to those who deny relationships between gender and security; between human agency (social construction)
and lethal outcome' (p. 183). In sum, all three texts draw their readers to an inescapable, and – for the conventional study of IR – a
devastating conclusion: the dominance of neo-realism/realism and the state-based study of security that derives from this is
potentially pathological, in that it is in part productive of the violences it seeks to ameliorate. I suggest that critical engagement with
orthodox IR theory is necessary for the intellectual growth of the discipline, and considerable insight can be gained by
acknowledging the relevance of feminist understandings of gender, power and theory. The young woman buying a T-shirt from a
multinational clothing corporation with her first pay cheque, the group of young men planning a stag weekend in Amsterdam, a
group of students attending a demonstration against the bombing of Afghanistan – studying these significant actions currently falls
outside the boundaries of doing security studies in mainstream IR and I believe these boundaries need contesting. As Marysia
Zalewski argues: International politics is what we make it to be ... We need to rethink the discipline in ways that will disturb the
existing boundaries of both that which we claim to be relevant in international politics and what we assume to be legitimate ways of
constructing knowledge about the world (Zalewski 1996, p. 352, emphasis in original). Conclusion: 'Let a Hundred Flowers Bloom,
Let a Hundred Schools of Thought Contend' (Mao Tse-Tung) In this essay, I have used the analysis of three contemporary
publications in the field of feminist security studies to demonstrate three significant sets of analytical contributions that such
scholarship makes to the discipline of IR. Beyond the war/peace dichotomy that is frequently assumed to be definitive of the
discipline, we find many and various forms of violence, occurring in and between temporally distinct periods of conflict, which are
the product/productive of socially acceptable modes of gendered behaviour, ways of being in the world as a woman or man. I have
also argued that critical engagement with conventional, state-based approaches to (national) security must persist as the academic
'if all experience is
gendered, analysis of gendered identities is an imperative starting point in the
study of political identities and practice' (Peterson, 1999, p. 37). To this end, I conclude by suggesting that
discourses we write are complicit in the construction of the global as we understand it. Further,
we take seriously Enloe's final comment: 'Tracking militarization and fostering demilitarization will call for cooperative
investigations, multiple skills and the appreciation of diverse perspectives' (2007, p. 164). While there has been intense intradisciplinary debate within contemporary feminist security studies over the necessary 'feminist credentials' of some gendered
analyses, it is important to recognise the continual renewal and analytical vigour brought to the field by such debates. Broadly
speaking, there are two positions we might map. On the one side, there are those who refuse to reduce gender to a variable in their
research, arguing that to do so limits the critical insight that can be gained from treating gender instead as a noun, a verb and a
structural logic (see, for example, Sjoberg, 2006; Zalewski, 2007). On this view, 'gender', whether deployed as noun, verb or logic in
a particular analysis, cannot be separated from the decades of feminist scholarship that worked to explore, expand on and elucidate
what gender might mean. On the opposing side are scholars who, typically using phrases such as 'balanced consideration' (Jones,
1998, p. 303) and 'an inclusive perspective on gender and war' (Griffiths, 2003, pp. 327–8, emphasis in original), manipulate gender
as a variable in their research to 'extend the scope of feminist IR scholarship' (Caprioli, 2004, p. 266) and to draw conclusions
regarding sex-specific behaviours in conflict and post-conflict situations (see also Caprioli and Boyer, 2001; Carpenter, 2006;
Melander, 2005). Crucially, however, scholarship on both sides of this 'divide' coexists, and in doing so encourages 'the appreciation
of diverse perspectives'. While bracketing feminist politics from the study of gender is an overtly political move, which can be
presented as either strategic (Carpenter, 2006, pp. 6–10) or as common sense, in that it 'enhances [the] explanatory capabilities' of
feminist security studies (Caprioli, 2004, p. 266), all interrogations of security that take gender seriously draw attention to the ways
in which gender is at once personal, political and international. Although it might seem that conceiving of gender as a variable
adheres both to a disciplinary narrative that rewards positivist and abstract theory (without messy reference to bodies) and to a neo/anti-/post-feminist narrative that claims 'we' have solved the gender problem (see Zalewski, 2007, p. 303), at the very least such
approaches give credence to the idea that gender matters in global politics. Mary Caprioli suggests that 'IR feminists shattered the
publishing boundary for feminist IR scholarship, and tackled the difficult task of deconstructing IR theory' (2004, p. 257). I would
caution that it is perhaps too soon to represent the shattering and tackling as a fait accompli, but with the vital interjections of texts
such as those discussed here, security studies scholars may yet envisage a politics of violence and human
subjectivity that transcends the arbitrary disciplinary boundaries which constrain rather than
facilitate understanding.
case extensions
2ac framing key
Solutions to gender-based violence must integrate feminist theory and practical
policy solutions
Marcus 6 PhD in American Studies, candidate for Doctors in Philosophy at The University of
New Mexico (Susan Emily, “FROM THE TOWER INTO THE STREETS: CONNECTING
FEMINIST THEORY AND PRAXIS IN EFFORTS TO END VIOLENCE AGAINST WOMEN” p.
175 – 177, July 2006, ProQuest) | js
Take Back the Night, Antioch’s Sexual Offense Prevention Policy, and The Vagina Monologues are all attempts at reducing or
perhaps eliminating gendered violence by centering women, women’s sexuality, and violence in civil society. All three have declared
that violence targeted at women’s sexuality is not a private matter and that to reduce or eliminate
that violence it is necessary for there to be a full venting of both the violence and the
multifaceted historical oppressions located around gender. It is essential that both be aired
and debated in civil society . Exemplified most vividly in “Reclaiming 175 Reproduced with permission of the
copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. Cunt” from the The Vagina Monologues, the frank to
flamboyant public discussions seek also to confront and dispel the embarrassment that often accompanies how we deal
with women’s sexuality, helping to dissolve the public-private divide. Female sexuality in this way becomes valorized
and important, and women, to varying degrees, are specifically centered in the discussion. Much of what is reported as
productive results from these initiatives focused on the changes within an individual and not on
the larger structures and institutions that perpetuate violence against women. The Antioch
Sexual Offense Prevention Policy, an ongoing community initiative that is kept current by public dialogue and
reformulation every three years, is also institutionally incorporated into students’ lives on campus. It is centered
on relearning what constitutes healthy sexuality as well as affirming that sexual violence will not be tolerated on campus. I spoke
with a fourth year Antioch student who presents the SOPP to first-year students at orientation, who says that the
experience of living with the policy has permanently changed her personal relationship with her own sexuality (personal
communication with author, May 4,2004). Involved in an abusive relationship in high school, she is delighted with the
frank discussion that the policy engenders. It took her a couple of years to implement it into her own sex life, but
now that she has, the student has redefined what is acceptable to her and what her personal boundaries are in a way that she feels
will last a lifetime. Likewise, Julie Wooden’s study of needs expectations and outcomes of participants at two Take Back the Night
rallies and marches (2000) found that the majority of her respondents had a positive experience. “A sense of
empowerment, a feeling of community, and an opportunity for protesting 176 Reproduced with permission of the
copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. violence against women were the most common benefits
shared by these participants, a majority of the participants felt more informed and empowered about issues related to sexual
violence after attending their first Take Back the Night event. Of the twelve participants who identified themselves as survivors of
sexual violence, a majority felt that their participation in these events was healing or an emotionally satisfying experience aiding
their healing process. Education, community action, and empowerment had the highest rankings of
importance by both survivors and others” (Wooden 2000, 95). Similar stories of empowerment are relayed by Eve Ensler
(2001), who writes that women continue to come to her after performances to relate their own stories, thereby gaining a sense of
release and healing. A positive personal response by individual women and men to these efforts is both satisfying to hear and no
doubt enormously important to their personal healing, but it would be more productive to our understanding of
sexual assault if we seek an analysis of what will challenge the structures and institutions that
perpetuate sexual violence in our culture. Therefore, it is imperative that the inquiry and analysis about
direct action intended to bring the issue of violence against women to the public sector not
be limited only to ideas about personal empowerment . Instead, as exemplified by the analysis in
this chapter of the three related but in many ways disparate actions, the investigation must consider how the
discourse and the appeal to change in the public sector can challenge the structures
and systems that support our rape culture and thereby create an impetus towards
fundamental change.
the problem of
Policy approaches to combatting violence against women require a focus on
enabling women’s individual sovereignty rather than increasing the government’s
power to discipline offenders
Bumiller 6 Professor of Political Science and Women’s and Gender Studies at Amherst College
(Kristin, Thomas Jefferson Law Review, “FREEDOM FROM VIOLENCE AS A HUMAN
RIGHT: TOWARD A FEMINIST POLITICS OF NONVIOLENCE” p. 327 – 330, Spring 2006,
ProQuest) | js
By definition, human rights are universal ethical standards that affirm the equality and dignity of all
individuals. These rights can be applied either supra-nationally, or to groups and individuals within states. Human rights
activism has addressed large-scale horrific violence, such as genocide, and has been used to extend civil protections and promote
economic justice for politically disadvantaged groups. Over the past thirty years, international networks of feminists have
hope to broaden the terms
protections to women around the globe by framing
a woman’s right to be protected from male violence both in the home and on the streets. In the
context of violence against women, the human rights paradigm views all forms of violence against a woman’s
body (e.g., rape, battering, homicide, stalking, torture, and genital mutilation) as a violation of a person’s
fundamental right to freedom of movement, personal dignity, and economic sustainability. These
employed the human rights framework as a means to advocate for women. Leaders of this movement
of debate within developed Western countries and extend
violations are primarily understood as the result of a failure to protect women as a class and promote their ∗ Professor of Political
Science and Women’s and Gender Studies, Amherst College. BUMILLER.DOC 8/16/2006 7:39:12 PM THOMAS JEFFERSON LAW
REVIEW [Vol. 28:327 328 equal status in society. Hence, human rights principles applied to women are essentially
equality doctrines linking their mistreatment to social, political, or economic status, yet also tying this status to
affirmative measures taken by states to promote women’s interests. This theory of women’s human rights is
codified in The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW),1 which was adopted by the
United Nations General Assembly in 1979. This Convention requires states to commit themselves to efforts aimed at ending
discrimination against women, and to take all appropriate measures to ensure women enjoy human rights and fundamental
freedoms. The Convention commits states to incorporating this principle of equality in their legal system, both through the abolition
of discriminatory laws and the enforcement of measures to protect women from exploitation. While the CEDAW is a broad-based
effort to protect women’s rights in all domains of life, it addresses gender-based violence as a form of discrimination. The specific
provisions focusing on violence toward women were not included in the original Convention, but added under General
Recommendation 19 of the revised CEDAW in 1992. This recommendation explains that the prohibition of
gender-based discrimination includes violence and requires all ratifying states to take all necessary
measures to eliminate violence. This includes legal sanctions, civil remedies, preventative measures (such as public
information and education campaigns), and protective measures (such as support services for victims).2 It establishes that
discrimination is at the root of social forces that perpetuate gender-based violence. As a rights-based approach to reducing violence
against women, the CEDAW assumes that endemic violence against women arises from the failure to
protect minimal standards of human dignity in societies. Most discussions of the CEDAW are focused on the basic
question of its effectiveness as a form of international regulation. Compliance with the CEDAW is formally monitored by the 1.
Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, G.A. Res. 34/180, U.N. Doc. A/34/46 (Dec. 18, 1979)
[hereinafter CEDAW]. 2. Id. BUMILLER.DOC 8/16/2006 7:39:12 PM 2006] FREEDOM FROM VIOLENCE AS A HUMAN RIGHT
329 United Nations through the submission of national reports. However, the successful enforcement of this transnational
normative order is mainly dependent on internal pressure from national non-governmental organizations (NGOs), and indirect
pressure from the international human rights community. While we must recognize the limitations of enforcing international
conventions, it is still important to analyze the ways in which this human rights discourse represents a view of modernization that
sets in place certain methodologies for protecting women against violence. Moreover, this move toward a human rights
paradigm to address violence against women has important implications, particularly in relation to the ways it contributes
to the growing criminalization of sexual violence that, in turn, expands the policing functions of the
modern state. The human rights approach is in many ways a continuation of the Western feminist activism on the
issue, but it also suggests new ways of affirming women’s right to be free from violence. By looking at
these issues from both a local and global perspective, it is possible to see that the human rights paradigm has become a vehicle for
translating the modern feminist movement against sexual violence (and the movement’s distinctive characteristics within the United
States) into a non-Western, global context. It additionally becomes apparent that an opportunity has been created for that model to
be subjected to international scrutiny. This kind of international scrutiny is limited, however, because the United States (despite its
active role in drafting the text and signing it) has not ratified the agreement after 22 years, which is due to conservative opposition in
the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Clearly accentuated by the United States’ failure to ratify the CEDAW, attention
to violence against women as a human rights issue has placed the United States’ record in a critical light, and has spurred the
formation of domestic human rights groups who demand reforms related to the treatment of women by the courts. In the United
States, violence against women is seen as a crime control issue that is largely left to state and local
authorities. The first effort to formulate a national policy to address violence against women, and to see it as a consequence
BUMILLER.DOC 8/16/2006 7:39:12 PM THOMAS JEFFERSON LAW REVIEW [Vol. 28:327 330 of gender discrimination,
culminated with passage of the 1994 Violence Against Women Act (VAWA).3 Although the VAWA is not a substitute for
participation in an international human rights convention, in its original formulation it constructed sexual violence as an equality
issue, and provided for civil rights remedies for victims of gender-based crimes of violence. Looking at the original logic behind the
VAWA, as well as the VAWA’s erosion in the courts, provides a vehicle to evaluate the difficulties of seeing violence as a consequence
of discrimination, and of nationalizing a policy focused on protecting women in the American context. The problems with
implementing a human rights approach run deeper than political opposition to the CEDAW in the Senate. These problems reflect
the limitations within efforts, like the VAWA, to provide a federal framework for developing standards and enforcing rights. The
failure to implement national standards in the United States leads to fundamental issues about the capacity of a human rights
approach to offer new and meaningful strategies to counteract sexual violence. In this article, human rights discourse is
treated as a highly differentiable form of theory and practice that can extend the power of the state, and can
increase worldwide reliance on illegitimate forms of state violence to deal with perceived and real
threats of sexual danger, while simultaneously offering new foundations for individual sovereignty.
Although this analysis emphasizes the limitations of the human rights approach and its continuities with Western feminists’ activism
against sexual violence, it also identifies aspects of the human rights paradigm that have potential to create new possibilities for the
vitality of political life. This article looks to human rights approaches to see if they can transform the
feminist campaign against sexual violence into a social movement founded on the principles of nonviolence, and thus escape the cycle of meeting violence with more violence. It makes an argument for human rights
strategies that seek to empower women through the forms of political action that support victims’
individual sovereignty, rather than reliance on state powers of surveillance and punishment.
2ac gender policing
Surveillance is just an extension of the male dominance perpetuated by the police
force
Koskela 2K (Hillie Koskela, professor researching on social power relations and critical
social science, University of Helsinki, 2000, “‘The gaze without eyes’: video-surveillance and the
changing nature of urban space”)
In feminist geography there has been a long debate about gender and space, and a great deal of work has been done to
show that ‘spatiality cannot be analysed solely through the medium of a male body and
heterosexual male experience’ (Massey, 1994: 182). By its essence, space is gendered: the very
existence of male violence, for example, modifies women’s interpretations of space. What does this mean in
relation to video-surveillance? Could gender be of importance in the space under surveillance? Is it the case that women in particular
are likely enjoy the ‘pay off’ (Honess and Charman, 1992: 11) of surveillance? How is ‘the visual’ gendered here? It is not the
intention of this section to argue that gender relations are understood as the only dimensions through which power is exercised.6
Gender is seen, rather, as one example of the many forms of power and repression associated
with surveillance. However, by focusing on gender relations negotiated under surveillance, it might
also be possible to understand more about other forms of power and exclusion. First, I examine the
gender relations of surveillance at their simplest level: who occupies the opposite sides of a surveillance camera? If we looked at the
places and spaces under surveillance, and the maintenance of surveillance, would we see practices that could be gendered? In
public and semi-public space, the places where surveillance most often occurs are, as mentioned above,
the shopping malls and the shopping areas of city centres and, likewise, areas of public transport (such as underground stations,
railway stations and busy bus stops). The people who usually negotiate and decide upon surveillance are
the management: managers of shopping malls, leading politicians, city mayors, etc. Furthermore, the people who
maintain surveillance are the police and private guards. From this it is possible to draw some
conclusions about the gender structure of surveil lance. Women spend more time shopping than
men, and everyday purchases are mostly bought by women (Reeves, 1996: 138). The majority of the
users of public transport are women (Hill, 1996; Kaartokallio, 1997). Thus women quite often occupy the
typical places of surveillance. By contrast, those in charge of deciding on surveillance are usually
men. More importantly, those who maintain surveillance (the police and guards) are also mostly men. Thus,
at the simplest level, surveillance is, indeed, gendered: most of the people ‘behind’ the cameras are men
and most of the people ‘under’ surveillance are women. However, there are other, more
complicated features, of this gender structure. In the world of surveillance the ‘masculine culture’ of
technology (Wajcman, 1991) is reproduced in the masculine interiors of monitoring rooms as well as
in the recruitment of guards for their physical strength and for their tall, muscular appearance
rather than suitable schooling or their ability to cope with people. The ‘cop culture’ (e.g., Fyfe, 1995) is producing mistrust of
surveillance: women do not rely on those behind the cameras because the guards and the police
responsible for the daily routine of surveillance reproduce patriarchal forms of power .
Surveillance is interpreted as part of ‘male policing in the boardest sense’ (Brown, 1998:
217). To understand the ways in which the power-space of surveillance is gendered, we need to specify the dimensions of the visual –
of ‘the gaze’.
2ac gender violence internal links
CCTV cameras exacerbate women’s fears in public spaces
Loukaitou-sideris 14 Professor in the Department of Urban Planning and Associate Dean of
the Luskin School of Public Affairs at UCLA (Anastasia, Security Journal, “Fear and safety in
transit environments from the women’s perspective” p. 246 – 7, Apr. 2014, ProQuest)
Empirical research in different countries has clearly established that women have distinct transportation needs
(Rosenbloom, 1995; Loukaitou-Sideris and Fink, 2009). But few researchers, transit agencies or policymakers have directly asked
women riders about their needs and preferences regarding safe travel. The limited information we have on this topic comes
primarily from surveys and safety audits undertaken by women in the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia and a few other countries.
2 From such surveys and audits, we know that women generally prefer staffing to technological solutions
and are sceptical of transit agencies' tendency to replace staff with automated machines (Trench et al , 1992; Koskela,
2000). Discussing the findings of a 2002 survey by the Department of Transport in the United Kingdom, Carter (2005, p. 100)
explained that when travelling by bus, women prefer an additional staff member and the refusal by the
driver to board those influenced by alcohol or drugs, whereas men prefer CCTV and in-vehicle
radio contact for the driver. On trains, women and men both prefer to have a staff member walking through a train,
although for women the preference is more marked. Similarly, an earlier survey of women in Southampton, England, found that they
repeatedly favoured more staff and police officers on buses, parking lots and streets (Lynch and Atkins, 1988). Retrofitting station
platforms and bus stops with CCTV cameras seems to offer little comfort to women. Koskela (2000) argues that it
contributes to accentuating gender imbalances, as most of the subjects under control in public
transportation settings are women, while most of the people behind the surveillance cameras are
men. Furthermore, CCTV cameras can do little to interrupt sexual harassment. Indeed, female
participants in focus groups and workshops in Nottingham, England, argued that they do not feel more secure
in the knowledge that someone, somewhere is supposed to be watching them (Trench et al , 1992, p.
291). Similarly a study of transit passenger reactions to implemented safety measures in Ann Arbor, Michigan, found that
while CCTV cameras were the most noticed of the various security improvements, they did not have a significant
impact on passengers' feelings of safety (Wallace et al , 1999).
2ac male gaze internal link
Surveillance’s hyperfocus on the visual has a coercive and
normalizing effect
Koskela 3 senior lecturer in the Department of Geography, University of Helsinki (Hille,
Surveillance & Society, “‘Cam Era’ – the contemporary urban Panopticon” p. 299 – 301, 2003,
http://queens.scholarsportal.info/ojs/index.php/surveillance-andsociety/article/viewFile/3342/3304) | js
‘The principle of his own subjection’ He who is subjected to a field of visibility, and who knows it, assumes responsibility for the
constraints of power; he makes them play spontaneously upon himself; he inscribes in himself the power relation in which he
simultaneously plays both roles; he becomes the principle of his own subjection. (Foucault, 1977: 202-203). Being constantly
conscious of being watched by invisible overseers leads to internalisation of control. While the
Panopticon ostensibly keeps the body entrapped, it is in fact aimed at the psyche: in this mechanism ‘the soul is the
prison of the body’ (Foucault, 1977: 30). People internalise the rules, regulate their own behaviour even when it is not necessary and,
thus, exercise power over themselves. Power operates by creating ‘bad conscience’ (Lash, 1990: 58, quoted in Faith, 1994: 59).
Accordingly, the panoptic nature of video surveillance imposes self-vigilance (Koskela, 2000a: 253). Surveillance ‘manufactures
conscience’ (Tabor, 2001: 128). It works as the modern penal discourse: it individuates,
normalises and mobilises
human bodies (Faith, 1994: 59). Internalisation of control means ‘easy and effective exercise of
power’ (Foucault, 1980: 148). This is exactly the political argument used to defend the expansion of
electronic surveillance: it is claimed to be easy and effective. New surveillance technologies are often highly
appreciated by the police because compared to the ‘old-fashioned’ patrolling Koskela: ‘Cam Era’ Surveillance & Society
1(3) 300 by foot video surveillance makes it possible to oversee larger spaces with the same amount
of personnel (Koskela and Tuominen, 1995). Surveillance is about the ‘regulation of bodily and other visible activities’ (Hannah,
1997a: 171). The bodies under surveillance do not need to be regulated since they regulate
themselves: they are ‘docile bodies’ (Foucault, 1977). From the perspective of the overseers, the ‘bodies’ seen in
a surveillance monitor are ‘doll-like’ (Koskela, 2000a: 251). While being under surveillance, indeed, is a bodily
experience, it is also an emotional event. Surveillance as an emotional experience evokes a variety of feelings: the objects
watched can feel guilty without a reason, embarrassed or uneasy, shameful, irritated, fearful;
also secured and safe (Koskela, 2002). What ensures discipline simultaneously erodes confidence. Guilt and embarrassment
will guarantee (self) control. As Tabor (2001: 135) writes: ‘[t]he very idea of surveillance evokes curiosity, desire, aggression, guilt,
and, above all, fear – emotions that interact in daydream dramas of seeing and being seen, concealment and self-exposure, attack
and defence, seduction and enticement.’ Self control is not a necessary or stable condition. The emotional experience of being under
surveillance is often ambivalent or mutable. A surveillance camera can make one feel safe but then, all of a sudden, change to a sign
of danger. There is no sound dynamic of security and insecurity, nor power and resistance. Hence, the ‘emotional space’
that surveillance creates is unstable, nebulous and unpredictable. This space is ‘like a liquid’
(Koskela, 2000a: 259, italics added). Urban space is not a space of coercion in the same sense than a prison is because being in it is –
at least ostensibly – voluntary. In cities people are not imprisoned but can move freely and are entitled to leave.
They do not ‘suffer continuous confinement’ (Hannah, 1997b: 344). Nevertheless,
if one wanted to avoid being
under surveillance it would be impossible to live in a contemporary city. Especially in city centres it has
become impossible to choose ones routes so that surveillance would be avoided. While being in a city may be voluntary, the new
forms of control are increasingly involuntary (see Marx, 2002). In that sense, cities do form a space of coercion. ‘An operation of
correction’ Foucault describes imprisonment as ‘an operation of correction’ (1977: 245) aiming to ‘cure’ the ‘delinquent’.
Correspondingly, surveillance aims to ‘normalise’ urban space. It multiplies the effect of social norms
which contribute in controlling behaviour and represents ‘an orderly, controlled vision of public
space is squeezing out other ways of imagining public spaces’ (Mitchell, 1995: 125). The routine
surveillance of urban space aims to ensure the exclusion of delinquency or deviance. It reflects
the fears about population regarded as different. As Hubbard (2000: 248) argues this ‘exclusionary urge’ has
been most vividly demonstrated in the way that city space, often regarded as democratic and open, has become increasingly
regulated. As a result, groups and individuals whose lifestyles Koskela: ‘Cam Era’ Surveillance & Society 1(3) 301 are viewed as
incompatible with so-called ‘normal’ ways of behaving have had their access to urban space limited. ‘[T]he basic logic of the
Panopticon operates to maintain normality among the already normal.’ (Hannah, 1997b: 349). Surveillance is used to
monitor the groups, whose visual appearance is interpreted as somehow deviant, producing a
particular type of ‘normative space-time ecology’ (Graham, 1998: 491). It is a ‘powerful tool in
managing and enforcing exclusion’ (Norris, 2002: 267). Visual appearance forms the basis for
prejudice. Surveillance is used to exclude ‘suspicious’ youths, the homeless, political activists,
people of colour, or sexual minorities (e.g. Crawford, 1992; Lees, 1998; Norris and Armstrong, 1999; Fopp, 2002). The
intolerant or racist attitudes of the ones responsible for surveillance is mediated and even reinforced by the cameras. Being ‘black’
ensures a high rate of scrutiny. Norris and Armstrong (1999: 155) found out in their research in Britain that black people were ‘twice
as likely to be surveilled for no apparent reason’ than white. The practices of surveillance tend ‘to inflate stereotypes’ (Lyon, 2001:
63). Thus, surveillance contributes to reinforcing existing power relations rather than challenging them. The control is ‘ridden with
racism and sexism’ (Graham, 1998: 491). Furthermore, what must be acknowledged is ‘the gendered nature of
to-be-looked-atness’ (Groombridge, 2002: 34). From the operators’ point of view, women are ‘invisible
as suspects’ and also ‘invisible as potential victims’ but clearly visible as targets of sexual interest
(Norris and Armstrong, 1999: 127). It is, indeed, possible to use surveillance cameras as a means of sexual harassment (for a more
detailed argument see: Koskela, 2002; also Hillier, 1996; Ainley, 1998; Brown, 1998). Gradually, incidents have been published
around the word, showing examples of gendered abuse of control. Police officers, soldiers as well as private guards have been
reprimanded for improper voyeuristic use of surveillance cameras. The controlled areas are at risk to be included
in women’s ‘cartography of avoidance’ (Epstein, 1997: 138). Moreover, the cultural codes and politics of
seeing and being seen are deeply gendered. There is some voyeuristic fascination in looking, in
being able to see. It is clear that women have agency over their own practices of looking and can use
both direct eyecontacts and technologically mediated gazes as a means for resisting oppression.
Nevertheless, it can be argued the female body is still an object of a ga ze in different way than the
male body. This also applies to women being viewed through a surveillance camera. While men are more likely to be
targeted in general, women are more likely to be targeted for ‘voyeuristic reasons’ (Norris and
Armstrong, 1999: 114). ‘The offensive gaze’ belongs to men.
Modern surveillance can be empowering by creating an outlet for
exhibitionism and visibility OR alt causes to surveillance—private
corporations control most CCTVs
Koskela 3 senior lecturer in the Department of Geography, University of Helsinki (Hille,
Surveillance & Society, “‘Cam Era’ – the contemporary urban Panopticon” p. 302, 2003,
http://queens.scholarsportal.info/ojs/index.php/surveillance-andsociety/article/viewFile/3342/3304) | js
However, reciprocally there may be fascination in being seen, as the amount of ‘webcams’ showing public as well as
private daily lives demonstrate (see for example Burgin, 2002). While being under surveillance may generally be involuntary, it is
also the case that ‘many people are seeking to increase their visibility’ (Groombridge, 2002: 43). Just as the
new forms of control are widespread, so are the forms of antipode and resistance created . No
longer is panoptic surveillance, necessarily, interpreted as a threat but rather ‘as a chance to display
oneself under the gaze of the camera’ (Ernst, 2002: Koskela: ‘Cam Era’ Surveillance & Society 1(3) 302 461). Visual
representations are often connected with sexuality. Pictures circulated in the Internet range from young
women turning the real-life images into pornography (by charging the viewers of their home
pages) to gay communities building a (global) collective identity by presenting their lives in the
net. The same point is valid in the ‘reality shows’ in TV, such as Big Brother (e.g. Weibel, 2002). ‘The algebra of surveillance
structures the reveries of voyeurism, exhibitionism and narcism’ (Tabor, 2001:125). Whereas in the Panopticon the disciplinary
practices are rather rigid, in cities control is always contextual. What is acceptable in a particular time and place varies.
What at daytime might be a perfectly acceptable behaviour for a woman may be regarded as reckless at night. What may be tolerated
behaviour for the youth on a schoolyard may be disapproved in city centre. What might be accepted behaviour among sexual
minorities in the semi-public space they regard as ‘their own’ is regulated by (often inarticulated) social norms in public
‘heterosexual space’ (Valentine, 1996). The norms vary according to gender, sexuality and age etc. On the other hand, a city can
be seen as a possibility, a space of manifold activity, leisure and lust, a space of spectacle, as well
as surveillance. People ‘enter’ it of their own free will and often enjoy being in it. Surveillance
can create ‘planned, controlled, ordered space’ (Mitchell, 1995: 115) but the other side of urban life
still remains. A city is not a punishment. Whereas imprisonment as a punishment is part of an established juridical
system, the forces that maintain urban discipline are not exclusively extensions of state but rather
the opposite. Characteristic to surveillance is that ‘myriad agencies now trace and track
mundane activities for a plethora of purposes’ (Lyon, 2002: 13). Cameras run by private market
forces outnumber those used by the authorities: the authorities actually have very little control
on how and where surveillance is used. There is no Big Brother, in Orwellian sense. As Whitaker (1999: 134)
has stated: ‘Ironically, the one-way transparency sought by the Orwellian state has been realized much
more effectively in the private than in the public sector’. This is not to deny that part of surveillance is used to
sustain the power of the state and reinforce the central government – an element that can be called ‘the political geography of
surveillance’ (Koskela, 2000a: 245).
2ac public spaces key
Surveillance cameras sacrifice the privileges of public space for security in
homogeneity
Mitchell 95 Distinguished Professor of Geography at the Maxwell School of Citizenship and
Public Affairs at Syracuse University (Don, Annals of the Association of American Geographers,
“The End of Public Space? People's Park, Definitions of the Public, and Democracy” p. 119 – 120,
1995) | js
Public Space in the Contemporary City Failure to recognize the homeless as part of the urban public; disregard of the fact that new
public spaces and homelessness are both products of redevelopment; the refusal to raise questions about exclusions while invoking
the concept of an inclusionary public space: these acts ratify the relations of domination that close the borders of public places no
matter how much these places are touted as “open and freely accessible to the public for 12 or more hours daily.” (Deutsche 1992:38,
emphasis in the original)14 . . . liberty engenders contradictions which are also spatial contradictions. Whereas
businesses tend toward a totalitarian form of social organization, authoritarian and prone to fascism, urban conditions, either
despite or by virtue of violence, tend to uphold at least a measure of democracy. (Lefebvre 1991 :319) As a secular space, the public
space of the modern city has always been a hybrid of politics and commerce (Sennett 1992:21 --22).15 Ideally, the anarchy of the
market meets the anarchy of politics in public space to create an interactive, democratic public. In the twentieth century, however,
markets have been increasingly severed from politics. The once expansive notion of public space that guided
early American democratic ideology and the extension, however partial, of public rights to
women, people of color, and the propertyless have been jeopardized by countervailing social,
political, and economic trends, trends that have caused many to recoil against any exercise of
democratic social power that poses a threat to dominant social and economic interests (Fraser 1990;
Harvey 1992). These trends have led to the constriction of public space. Interactive, discursive politics have been
effectively banned from the gathering points of the city. Corporate and state planners have created
environments that are based on desires for security rather than interaction, for entertainment
rather than (perhaps divisive) politics (Crilley 1993; Garreau 1991; Goss 1992; 1993; Sorkin 1992). One of the results of
planning has been the growth of what Sennett (1 992) calls ”dead public spaces”-the barren plazas that surround so many modern
office towers. A second result has been the development of festive spaces that encourage consumption-downtown redevelopment
areas, malls, and festival marketplaces. Though seemingly so different, both ”dead” and “festive” spaces are premised on a perceived
need for order, surveillance, and control over the behavior of the public. As Goss (1 993:29-30) reminds us, we are often complicit in
the severing of market and political functions. He points to the case of the pseudo-public space of the contemporary
shopping mall: Some of us are . . . disquieted by the constant reminders of surveillance in the sweep of
cameras and the patrols of security personnel [in malls]. Yet those of us for whom it is designed
are willing to suspend the privileges of public urban space to its relative benevolent authority,
for our desire is such that we will readily accept nostalgia as a substitute for experience, absence
for presence, and representation for authenticity. This nostalgic desire for the market Goss (1
993:28) calls ”agoraphilia”--a yearning for “an immediate relationship between producer and
consumer” (see also Hartley 1992). Such nostalgia is rarely “innocent,“ however (see Lowenthal 1985). It is
rather a highly constructed, corporatized image of a market quite unlike the idealization of the agora as a place
of commerce and politics (Hartley 1992). In the name of comfort, safety, and profit, political activity is replaced in
these spaces by a highly commodified spectacle designed to sell (Boyer 1992; Crawford 1992; Garreau 1991
:48-52). Planners of pseudo-public spaces like malls and corporate plazas have found that controlled diversity is more
profitable than unconstrained social differences (Crawford 1992; Goss 1993; Kowinski 1985; A. Wilson 1992; Zukin
1991). Hence even as new groups are claiming greater access to the rights of society, homogenization of ”the public” continues apace.
This homogenization typically has advanced by “disneyfying” space and place-creating landscapes
in which every interaction is carefully planned (Sorkin 1992; A. Wilson 1992; Zukin 1991 ). Market and design
considerations thus displace the idiosyncratic and extemporaneous interactions of engaged peoples in the determination of the
shape of urban space in the contemporary world (Crilley 1993:137; Zukin 1991 ). Designed-and-contrived diversity creates
marketable landscapes, as opposed to uncontrolled social interaction which creates places that may threaten exchange value. The
“disneyfication” of space consequently implies increasing alienation of people from the possibilities of unmediated social interaction
and increasing control by powerful economic and social actors over the production and use of space. Imposing limits and
controls on spatial interaction has been one of the principal aims of urban and corporate
planners during this century (Davis 1990; Harvey 1989; Lefebvre 1991 1. The territorial segregation created through the
expression of social difference has increasingly been replaced by a celebration of constrained diversity.’6 The diversity represented in
shopping centers, ”megastructures,” corporate plazas, and (increasingly) in public parks is carefully constructed (Boyer 1992).
Moreover, the expansion of a planning and marketing ethos into all manner of public gathering places has
created a “space of social practice” that sorts and divides social groups (Lefebvre 1991 :375) according
to the dictates of comfort and order rather than to those of political struggle. But as Lefebvre (1 991 :375)
suggests, this is no accident. The strategies of urban and corporate planners, he claims, classify and “distribute various social strata
and classes (other than the one that exercises hegemony) across the available territory, keeping them separate and prohibiting all
contacts-these being replaced by signs (or images) of contact.” This reliance on images and signs-or representations-
entails the recognition that a ”public” that cannot exist as such is continually made to exist in the
pictures of democracy we carry in our heads: “The public in its entirety has never met at all . . .”; yet ”the public [is]
still to be found, large as life, in the media” (Hartley 1992:l). Hence: “Contemporary politics is representative in both senses of the
term; citizens are represented by a chosen few, and politics is represented to the public via the various media of communication.
Representative political space is literally made of pictures-they constitute the public domain”
(Hartley 1992:35; emphasis in the original). I will return to this theme of symbolic politics and resistance to it in the material spaces
of the city; for now, it is sufficient to note that the politics of symbolism, imaging, and representation
increasingly stand in the stead of a democratic ideal of direct, less-mediated, social interaction
in public spaces. In other words, contemporary designers of urban “public” space increasingly
accept signs and images of contact as more natural and desirable than contact itself
2ac sexual violence internal link
Video surveillance enables the violation of fundamental rights to sexual privacy --cameras enable apparatuses of sexualized surveillance
Bell 9 (David Bell, Professor at the School of Geography at Leeds University, 2009,
“Surveillance is Sexy”)
As Hillier (1996) and Koskela (2002) have both reported, surveillance
technologies such as CCTV have been
linked to practices of voyeurism, too, for example when camera operators are found to focus their
attentions in particular ways: Male [CCTV] operators monitoring cameras located in women’s
toilets and artistes’ changing rooms, as well as in the car parks and main body of the casino, had
zoomed in on images of women’s exposed breasts, genital areas and buttocks, together with
couples fondling each other and having sex, generally “hidden” behind large indoor plants, and a woman
urinating in the car park. Individual sequences from the four-year period had been edited onto one tape and shown locally
at house parties by the operator(s) responsible. (Hillier 1996: 99). Indeed, ‘found’ footage from CCTV also enters the
technologically-mediated pornscape, collated on websites and on DVDs featuring ‘Caught in the Act’ footage (such as
people having sex in ATM foyers or in surveilled public spaces).4 These sites knowingly play on current feelings
about surveillance; as Tabor (2001: 135) writes, ‘the very idea of surveillance evokes curiosity, desire,
aggression, guilt, and, above all, fear – emotions that interact in daydream dramas of seeing and
being seen, concealment and selfexposure, attack and defence, seduction and enticement’. While
sex in public space has always had to deal with the possibility of being seen – and has sometimes dealt with this possibility by
eroticizing it (Leap 1998) – the added frisson of capture by surveillance technologies undoubtedly adds
to the erotics for some participants (and for those who later consume the images; see Holert, 2002). In fact, the
widespread availability of surveillance technologies means that seemingly every device has spawned new erotic practices.
Wearable cameras, such as those used by surveillance activist Steve Mann to ‘shoot back’ at the watchers (Monahan 2006),
are also used to covertly film sex acts – see for example the Street Blowjobs website.5 Evidently, as already noted, the
‘landscape’ of sexualized surveillance is complex and variegated. Different technologies
(cameraphone, webcam, digital video, CCTV), different intentions (covert/overt, sexualized in the making or sexualized after
the fact), different audiences (security officers, paying customers, tabloid readers, lovers), and different forms of
agency (knowing performance versus caught on film, exhibitionist-made versus voyeur-made) will inevitably combine in
different ways, producing different ‘texts’ and contexts. A full typology of sexy surveillance is beyond the scope
of this paper, but it is important to reiterate this complexity and diversity, and to acknowledge the partial and fragmentary nature of
what I present here.
Surveillance for women is not used in a protective sense, but instead a voyeuristic
invasion of female actions.
Norris and Armstrong 99 (Clive Norris, Professor at the University of Hull, and Gary
Armstrong, Professor at the University of Reading, 1999, “CCTV and the Social Structuring of
Surveillance”)
While women make up 52% of the general population they only accounted for 7% of primary persons surveilled. Women were
almost invisible to the cameras unless they were reported as known shoplifters by store detectives
(33%) or because of overt disorderly conduct (31%). Nor were women more likely to became targets
by virtue of a protectional gaze. Indeed, in nearly 600 hours of observation only one woman was targeted for protectional
purposes — as she walked to and from a bank cash dispenser. Moreover, there was evidence that the same attitudes
that have traditionally been associated with the police occupational culture surrounding
domestic violence continue to inform the operation of CCTV. Shortly after 01.00 a.m. the operator
notices a couple in the street having an animated row. Both are white, in their late 20s and stylishly dressed as if
returning from a night out. This quiet Monday night has produced nothing of interest, and these two arguing is the most
interesting event of the past three hours. This and the fact that the woman in view is blond and
good looking has added to the attraction. The operator tells the Comm Room staff (two men) to have a look at the
event unfolding. After a two-minute argument the woman storms off up the street, but does not go out of the man's sight and slumps
against a wall looking miserable. The man, meanwhile, climbs into a nearby car, closes the door and waits in the driver's seat, lights
off. The impasse lasts five minutes, the female walks slowly towards the car and begins to talk to the man via the driver's window,
only to storm off again after a minute. This time the male follows her on foot to continue the row. The operators and police enter into
a commentary urging the man not to chase after her. Having decided she is hot-tempered and sulky, the operator says aloud "You hit
her and we'll be your witnesses. " The couple continue their debate and this time the female decides to walk off past the man. but as
she does so he attempts to restrain her by holding her arm. She pulls back. In the stand-off further words are exchanged, and a blow
is aimed from the male to the female that strikes her around the upper chest and causes her to stumble. The blow does not look to be
a hard one and she picks herself up and walks away. Meanwhile the male returns to his car and once again sits and waits. This time
the female walks down the street past the car and continues for 20 yards only to stop, walk back to the car and stand looking into it.
After a couple of minutes of her looking and him pretending not to notice the pair resume their chat, this time via the passenger
door. The drama continues when she walks away again. This time the distance is only 10 yards. Then she does an about-turn and,
returning to the car, opens the front passenger door. Whilst she sits in the car she leaves the door wide open. After a mutual silence
(seen by zooming the camera into the car's windscreen), the pair decide to talk again. This time she lasts three minutes before
getting out and storming off. By now other personnel have appeared to watch this drama. Two other officers have
entered the room so that six men can now, in pantomime mode, boo and cheer good moves and
bad moves. One boo is reserved for the male when he starts up the car, does a threepoint turn, drives up to where she is sulking,
and, parking, tries to persuade her to get it. A cheer goes up when he has seemingly failed in this effort and so drives away. But
cheers turn to boos when he reverses to resume his persuasion. His words work and, to boos, she climbs into the car. After a fourminute discussion, the stationary car drives away into the distance. (25 minutes, 2 cameras). As this incident makes clear,
there is no simple correspondence between the discovery of criminal activity and the resulting
deployment and arrest. Lesser assaults, when perpetrated by men on men outside nightclubs, resulted in police officers
being deployed and arrests being made. However, the images from the screen are filtered through an
organisational lens that accords meaning, status, and priority to events. It will come as no surprise to
critics of the police handling of domestic violence (Edwards, 1989; Stanko, 1985) that the existence of "objective"
evidence led to neither a protective response in the first instance to prevent the assault from
occurring nor, once it had occurred, a legalistic response to arrest the perpetrator. As Edwards has argued,
the police have always concerned themselves more with public order than private violence, and
this was deemed as essentially a private matter, albeit occurring in public space. Moreover, this example gives credence
to Brown's (1998) assertion that the essentially male gaze of CCTV has little relevance for the
security of women in town centres, and may indeed undermine it by offering the rhetoric of
security rather than providing the reality. CCTV also fosters a male gaze in the more
conventional and voyeuristic sense: with its pan-tilt and zoom facilities, the thighs and cleavages
of scantily clad women are an easy target for those male operators so motivated. Indeed, 10% of all targeted
surveillances on women and 15% of operator-initiated surveillance on women were for
voyeuristic reasons, which outnumbered protective surveillance by five to one. Moreover, the longunderstood relationship between cars and sex provides operators and police with other chances
for titillation, as illustrated by the following example. 01.00: On the first night shift the operator is keen to show me all his job
entails. Eventually I am taken, via the camera, to "Shaggers Alley," an area of a carpark near the railway station used by local
prostitutes and their punters (customers). Whilst this location is out of the uxxy to passers-by, many a punter and indeed a happy
couple not involved in a financial transaction are unaware of the reach of the all-seeing camera, whose job is facilitated by a large
and powerful carpark light that does not leave much to the imagination of the observer. CXeariy visible on this night thanks to the
cameras' ability to zoom in and look into cars, is a male in his late 20s sitting in the driver's seat with what can only be described as
an expression of glee as a female, kneeling on the passenger seat performs fellatio on him. Her hair and head are noticeably
bouncing up and down for around two minutes. When the performance is over the woman is clearly visible, topless, in the front seat.
From beginning to end this scenario is put onto the police monitor, with the operator informing
me that the police officers in the communications office enjoy such scenarios and, when bored,
will sometimes phone to ask him to put the cameras on Shaggers Alley for their titillation. (11 minutes, 1
camera) In one of our sites, the "appreciation" of such public displays was a regular feature of the night shift and not just confined to
those with access to the monitors. Many such encounters could be found on the "Shaggers Alley greatest hits tape," which was
compiled and replayed for the benefit of those who had missed the "entertainment."
2ac solvency
The plan asserts the possibility of public spaces as the antithetical response to
monitoring and regulation --- energizes societal transformation
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
Ongoing suspicionless
video surveillance may be defended on similar grounds, as an essential tool
in the battle against terrorism. As terrorists have expanded their targets beyond airplanes, to buildings,
hotels, and crowded plazas, law enforcement has had to similarly expand its reach. But this argument requires
more than a simple adaptation of the Court's administrative search cases. In one crucial respect, the use of video
surveillance on streets is strikingly different from warrantless searches in schools, workplaces,
and airports. When courts have allowed suspicionless searches in the past, they have justified
such searches by pointing not only to the important safety interest they were designed to serve, but also to the fact
that such searches generally took place in environments where individuals' behavior was already
subject to monitoring and regulation . The suspicionless drug testing allowed in Skinner, Von Raab,
and Vernonia School District, for example, took place in schools and in federal employment contexts,
environments where expectations of privacy are already reduced by rules of conduct and supervision arrangements necessary to
such institutions.469 The
additional testing required by the government was not a jarring and out-ofplace intrusion , entirely unlike many of the other requirements already operating to limit the freedom of students and
federal workers.470
By contrast, the streets,
parks, and public squares where public video surveillance takes place are in
many ways the antithesis of monitored spaces . They are not tightly-regulated environments, where people
have to answer regularly to supervisors or fit their behavior within the constraints of a particular regime aimed at serving particular
purposes. On the contrary, as the Supreme Court has stressed in the context of the First Amendment, streets, parks,
and public squares are places where individuals have heightened expectations of liberty .471
They are in many ways the last refuge in society for open and untrammeled discussion. And, as the
Supreme Court has acknowledged in its First Amendment "public forum" doctrine, they are places where individuals' interest in free
discourse often trumps many other important government interests. While those walking through a street or park are subject in such
open areas to the casual observation of others, this does not mean that they are, or expect to be, subject to close and unrelenting
monitoring.472 As one federal court recently indicated, when one finds oneself under the close watch of
government-operated video cameras, this is a strong sign that one is not in the kind of "public
forum" traditionally found in streets, parks, and public squares.473
Because of their traditional function as enclaves of free and spontaneous thought and action, these public environments are ill-suited
to absorb massive camera networks. Permitting pervasive state monitoring in these preserves of liberty is
in some sense akin to allowing large-scale industrial production in what is supposed to be an
unsullied nature sanctuary: whatever benefits, in safety or commerce, it may bring, it is both jarringly out of place and
deeply damaging to the surrounding environment.474
How then are courts to react when asked to analyze the reasonableness of using pervasive video surveillance to counter a pervasive
security threat? At a minimum, such a response would require a rethinking of the Court's suspicionless search analysis. But such a
rethinking might proceed along a number of different lines.
First, one might take the position that because terrorists might cause deadly attacks anywhere, suspicionless searches have to be
permissible anywhere. Such a stance appears to receive some support from polls suggesting that in the wake of September 11, 2001,
Americans believe that once unacceptable sacrifices of privacy must now be made to meet once unimaginable threats to security.475
It is also in accord with the sentiments, expressed by some, that the threat posed by terrorism and perhaps by other kinds of violent
crime has already radically changed public life in a way that demands an equally radical change in the security protections offered by
government.
People may welcome increased monitoring even when the threats they face in public do not produce mass casualties. The recent
sniper attacks in Washington, D.C., for example, succeeded in shutting down a significant portion of public life for a period of
weeks.476 In many crime-ridden neighborhoods in American cities, similar random violence is a feature of everyday life. People in
such circumstances understandably may welcome surveillance techniques they would otherwise oppose to free themselves from the
sense of being prisoners in their homes. Fourth Amendment protections might have to be adapted not only to new forms of
government surveillance unimagined by the founders, as Brandeis stressed,477 but also to new forms of private violence that are
more devastating than any forms of private violence known to the drafters of the Bill of Rights.478
At the core of such an argument is the assumption that no matter how intrusive the search, it can count as reasonable if the threat it
is designed to meet is very grave. This stance appears to echo the Supreme Court's "proportionality" test, which holds that
permissibility of a particular practice "is judged by balancing its intrusion on the individual's Fourth Amendment interests against
its promotion of legitimate governmental interests."479 But this formulation of the proportionality test is too simple
in that it fails to recognize constitutional democracies' need to preserve the minimal level of
privacy and anonymity necessary to support individual autonomy . Such a reconciliation
requires more than a weighing contest to determine which interest-safety or privacy-trumps the other in a specific
instance. It requires measures designed to ensure that, even when certain powerful surveillance
measures are desperately needed, they are used in a way which does not do irreparable damage
to core principles of the constitutional order.480 Moreover, the simplest formulation of the Court's balancing test
fails to register that measures which eliminate privacy protections are intuitively more disturbing, and harder to see as reasonable
under any conditions, than the more familiar measures of ensuring Fourth Amendment "reasonableness," which suspend or
temporarily circumvent such privacy protections. Warrants authorize home entries, but walls continue to conceal
private activities after such a search is conducted, and while drug tests uncover medical information, one's medical and biological
condition does not indefinitely remain open to examination. By contrast, camera networks that unalterably change
citizens' public spaces may cause permanent damage to their freedom from monitoring.
2ac violence against women impact
Violence against women spills over to larger physical and mental problems for
women
Fine and Weis 2K (Michelle Fine, Graduate Center City at the University of New York,
Lois Weis, Graduate School of Education State at the University of New York in Buffalo, 2000,
“Disappearing Acts: The State and Violence against Women in the Twentieth Century”)
In 1992, as we embarked on interviews for The Unknown City (Fine and Weis 1998), we thought we were collecting 150 oral histories
of the economic, educational, and activist lives of poor and working-class men and women growing up in urban America during the
1980s and 1990s. From literacy programs, Headstart centers, church basements, and GED classes, we heard stories
of physical and sexual abuse from these poor and workingclass girls and women- White, AfricanAmerican, and Latina, ages 23 to 35. Women reported painfully high levels of violence across groups, and
yet they also narrated culturally distinct patterns of going public (or not) and seeking assistance
from kin, neighbors, or the State (or not). A full 92 percent of the White women we interviewed
described experience with childhood and/or adult abuse. Almost without exception, these women reported that
they had never told anyone, never sought refuge in a shelter, never sought an order of protection, never called the police.
Sixtyeight percent of the African-American women we spoke with reported experiences of
domestic violence, but these women were far more likely to have told others about the abuse, fled their homes for shelter, or
thrown out their abusers. Thev were also more likely, despite their mistrust of the police, to secure orders of
protection and called the police as needed (see Richie 1996 for important analysis of these issues). While 85
percent of the Latinas reported experiences of domestic abuse, many, if not most, chose to leave
their men quietly late in the evening, trying to find a safe space for themselves and their children
(see Hurtado 1996; Gordon 1997; Espin 1999). No class or cultural group of women is exempt from domestic violence. Sixty
percent of women killed in the United States were killed by a husband or boyfriend; 25 percent
of female psychiatric patients who attempt suicide are victims of domestic violence, and between 40
percent (Del Tufo 1995) and 63 percent (Browne 1987) of New York's homeless families include women fleeing abuse at home.
Over 70 percent of women entering the New York State prison system have had a history of
physical and/or sexual abuse (New York State Department of Correctional Services 1996). The "why doesn't she just
leave?" question has finallv been answered: Because she is as likely, if not more likely, to endure violence or
homicide should she leave. Evidence from the U.S. Department of Justice suggests that a woman
may be in even greater life-threatening jeopardy once she leaves or separates from an abusive
man. Cecilia Castelano reports that "almost 25 percent of the women killed by male partners were separated and divorced from the
men who killed them; another 29 percent were attempting to end the relationship when they were killed" (1996, 11), and Lenore
Walker reports that "in one U.S. study, 70 percent of the reported injuries from domestic violence occurred after the separation of
the couple" (1999, 24). We exit this century and enter another with violence against women smarting, bound to another form of
violence. That is, State-sponsored violence by which the public sphere, the State-sponsored safety net
(always frayed and inadequate), has rapidly been dismantled, first by right-wing Republicans and soon thereafter by
"moderate" Democrats, as poor and working-class women and their children fall through the huge holes in the webbing. And yet
today, with no public accountability, working-class and poor women (and men) have been tossed
from our collective moral community, in particular by severe curtailments in their access to welfare, shelter, and
higher education. These very well traveled exit ramps from domes tic abuse are under intensive and deliberate destruction. These
are among the most devastating State-sponsored disappearing acts of the twentieth century.
at: alt-causes
The video camera is a key starting point --- visual power relationships shape
gendered spaces
Koskela 5 senior lecturer in the Department of Geography, University of Helsinki, Finland
(Hille, A Companion to Feminist Geography, “Urban Space in Plural: Elastic, Tamed,
Suppressed” p. 257 – 8, 2005) | js
Space is produced in everyday encounters on the street. Space is, at present, commonly understood to be a social category,
produced not only in political and economic processes but in the practices and power relationships of daily
life – including gender relations. Space shapes the way in which gender identities are formed
and, reciprocally, gender identities and gendered social relations shape space (see Massey, 1994, p. 186;
Domosh, 1998). The ostensibly trivial gendered practices and power structures of the everyday confine
women’s space, and thus produce and (re)produce space that is “gendered” (see Rose, 1993). Among
other key features of this, it has been amply demonstrated that “warnings about the potential for sexual
victimization are a central feature of women’s socialization” (Macmillan et al., 2000, p. 308); an essential part
of this socialization turns out to be spatial. In this and myriad other ways, the interplay between public space and (gendered) social
relations is crucial for understanding both how space is produced and how gender is constructed. In this chapter, my aim is to
examine some of the practices that contribute to gendering of urban space. I will provide different perspectives on this issue by
pointing at three different spaces of the everyday life. The first section, “Elastic space,” examines how gendered space is
produced in a red light district where women are constantly gazed at and harassed. By exploring the
places where the “usual” types of harassment are aggravated, it is possible to provide exceptionally glaring examples of the processes
that go on also elsewhere and that seem otherwise unremarkable. In the next section, “Tamed space,” I discuss how women
negotiate space for themselves by conscious practices of boldness to counteract their fear of
violence. Women appear to be “experts” in interpreting different elements of urban behaviour. The third
section, “Suppressed space,” examines the relationships between security, surveillance technology,
and the gendered practices of visual control. New urban surveillance technologies have the double effect of,
on the one hand, possibly reducing the level of street harassment and violence women experience, but, on the other hand, of
magnifying and extending the nature of such harassment. Two central theoretical points of view shape all these
sections: the production of urban space and the politics of looking. Examining the “politics of looking” is a key theme in feminist
urban geography. Power relationships intertwine with the field of vision, including acts of seeing and
being seen, as well as the cultural meanings of the visual and its representations. Often even the seemingly innocent questions of
visuality are gendered (see Rose, 1993; Nast and Kobayashi, 1996; Robinson, 2000, among others). What is characteristic of all lived
urban space is “the semiotics of the street.” In encounters on the street we read each other – as well as the built environment – as
signs. The plays of looking and being looked at form essential components in this process. Space is
simultaneously read and produced. In urban space women are more likely than men to be the
ones who are looked at, the objects of the gaze (Massey, 1994). This, as I shall argue, applies both to
face-to-face encounters and to “mediated gazes”; for example, the “electronic gaze” of a
surveillance camera. Further, women are constantly reminded that an (invisible) observer is a
threat, and this potential observer is presented as male. Indeed, one of the main reasons why
women feel unsafe in public space is their “exaggerated visibility” (Brown, 1998, p. 218). The cultural codes
and politics of seeing and being seen are deeply gendered.
at: no federal video surveillance
Wrong
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
2. Magnification.-The Supreme Court's response to use of magnification with visual surveillance has been very similar. In fact,
when the EPA used powerful map-making cameras to take detailed pictures of a
chemical plant (magnified by a factor of 240) from an airplane, the Court's response was built around
the same two points that formed the core of its Knotts decision on tracking.219 First, said the
Court, the government had pointed its camera only toward a public space where police, and
others, had a perfect right to cast their eyes. The grounds of the chemical plant were "comparable
to an open field" and "as such [were] open to the view and observation of persons" flying
overhead.220
Second, technologically expanding or fine-tuning such observation of public space does not become constitutionally impermissible
simply because it reveals details invisible to the naked eye. "The mere fact that human vision is enhanced
somewhat," said the Court, "does not give rise to constitutional problems."221 While federal
courts have not hesitated to hold that use of a telescope to spy upon activities in the home might
constitute a search,222 the Court stressed this was not the case here.223
at: private/corporate cameras
AT: Private surveillance fills in – no impact and courts solve it
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
Such observations explain why
courts are not helpless to repair damaged architectures of
privacy . They do not, however, adequately answer another variant of the charge that an attempt to preserve privacy in public
space would be backward-looking; even if it is possible for courts to put limits on public surveillance, one might argue, it is also
pointless. The same technological advances that give the government the power to capture more of our lives on video also give
private businesses and individuals the means to observe us as well. If the public activities we wish to hide are recorded for
observation anyway-by journalists, businesses, private detectives, or random individuals-it may not seem clear what is lost by
providing the same visual data to government officials, who are more accountable to us for the use of this information and may be
more likely to use it for purposes, such as law enforcement, that serve citizens' interests. As the Court noted in Dionisio, "no
intrusion into an individual's privacy results" when "nothing is being exposed to the grand jury that has not previously been exposed
to the public at large."383
But it is one thing to give law enforcement and government the right to exploit new technologies.
It is another to let a government agency stand in the shoes of private eavesdroppers. For a number of
reasons, courts should be quite skeptical of the claim, frequently voiced in previous Fourth Amendment cases, that when private
parties are left free to watch an individual or listen in on a conversation, government officials should be able to do so as well.
One reason for such skepticism is that whatever use private parties might make of a surveillance technique,
they would find it difficult to construct as inescapable of a video surveillance system as that
which the government is capable of creating. While private businesses can place camera networks on their
own premises, and might even point them towards a street or highway, they do not have the authority to mount and
monitor video cameras throughout a city's streets and parks. Indeed, the state's significant
ability to reshape our public environment is unmatched by any other center of power in
society. Thus, even those who agree with Daniel Solove that social practices which shape privacy evolve over time,384 and that
law should respond to such evolution, might understandably reject the notion that the state should be left free to cause a sudden and
seismic shift in such practices.
A second reason for applying heightened vigilance to state actors is that government can not only collect and store
more information than private parties, it can also do more damage with it. While many
people might be more comfortable exposing details of their lives to anonymous officials instead of
people they know and interact with,385 the inhibitions that arise when a person knows he is being watched may well be particularly
strong when he knows that the party watching him has a power, found nowhere else in society, to force him to answer questions
about, or put binding limits on, his activities. While it may be particularly humiliating to have one's
confidences revealed to acquaintances or friends-rather than to unknown officials in a control room-one is not
legally obligated to follow their rules or accept their judgments. Moreover, even recorded images
are usually less threatening to privacy when no one can find them. It is true that a photo or video shot by a
stranger may emerge in print, on television, or on the Internet, and cause great pain and humiliation to the subject. But often, until
it does emerge, those seeking details about the subject's life will not know where to look for it. By contrast, the existence of a
well-known government database of images would signal to numerous agencies and public
officials that there is a place to find such information , and perhaps give private parties the
incentive to lobby vigorously for access to it .386
at: law fails
Legislative reform effectively solves surveillance sexism
Koskela 2 senior lecturer in the Department of Geography, University of Helsinki,finland
(Hille, Urban Geography, “Video Surveillance, Gender, and the Safety of Public Urban Space:
"Peeping Tom" Goes High Tech?” 2002, p. 273 – 4,
http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.2747/0272-3638.23.3.257) | js
What is comes to gender relations, it is clear that surveillance does not replace or erase other forms of embodiment: women still encounter sexual
harassment and objectifying attitudes in face-to-face contacts in urban space. Surveillance
can be understood as the
“reembodiment” of women, as “an extension of male gaze.” It has been declared that more information is needed
about “how disciplinary power operates in connection with other tools of class and gender oppression” (Hannah, 1997a, p. 179). Arguably, in most cases
the practice of surveillance contributes to perpetuating the existing imbalance in gender
relations rather than challenging it. This article has shown that the relationship between gender and surveillance is highly
problematic. While surveillance might increase the safety of some women in some places, a more detailed examination shows that it also has many
features which are problematic. What is of concern to women—and even more generally, if an increased feeling of safety is aimed at—is not only
whether some places are monitored or not but rather the more widespread politics of surveillance. To
meet the aim of increased
safety and confidence, it is essential to eliminate any possibilities of abuse of the system. To avoid
abuse, Downloaded by [] at 13:22 05 July 2015 274 HILLE KOSKELA it is essential to have a clear regulation and an
agreed code of practice for surveillance. This condition is yet to come. What must not be forgotten, however, is that there is
always an element of resistance. Control is never completely hegemonic. Surveillance can be
turned to “countersurveillance,” to a weapon for those who are oppressed. It is possible, for example, to use a
surveillance camera to protect oneself as was recently done infinland by a woman who had experienced violence. She had to
prove that an offender had violated the restraining order given by the court, and installed a surveillance camera on her own
front door to catch the offender on tape (Koskela, 2000b). Indeed, gender relations can be turned upside
down. Just as the new forms of control are widespread, so are the new forms of resistance
creative. The ways to show disapproval are numerous. For example, the New York, NY Civil Liberties Union keeps up the debate about
surveillance and, among other means, maintains a map on the Internet with all the surveillance cameras of New York, NY on it (New York City
Surveillance Camera Project, 2000). Anyone who spots a camera, which is not on the map, can add it to this www-site. Further, the international
Privacy International organization each year presents the “Big Brother” awards “to the government and private sector organizations which have done
the most to threaten personal privacy in their countries” (Privacy International, 2000). The theater group Surveillance Camera Players, is another
example of turning the pieces of this play upside down. An old play, presented to an audience placed behind a surveillance camera, and suddenly new
meanings are revealed. The overseers who expect—and are expected—to watch the “real” world, at “real time,” end up being the audience for afictional
play, suddenly, at any time, anywhere. As the theater group announces: “Meet the Surveillance Camera Players— coming to a video monitor near you.”
Don’t miss it!
only way to ensure limitations on cctv is through law
ACLU; 2002 (“What’s Wrong With Public Video Surveillance?” httpss://www.aclu.org/whatswrong-public-video-surveillance; Sieg)
Legally enforceable rules for the operation of such systems. A societal consensus
about how cameras should be used is important, but in the end we are a nation of laws and
rights that have their root in law. While the Fourth Amendment to the US
Constitution offers some protection against video searches conducted by the
police, there are currently no general, legally enforceable rules to limit privacy
invasions and protect against abuse of CCTV systems. Rules are needed to establish a
clear public understanding of such issues as whether video signals are recorded, under what
conditions, and how long are they retained; what the criteria are for access to archived video by
other government agencies, or by the public; how the rules would be verified and enforced; and
what punishments would apply to violators. There have long been well-established
rules governing the audio recording of individuals without their consent
(there is a reason surveillance cameras never have microphones). It makes no
sense that we don't have equivalent laws for video recording.
cctv needs to be administered in order to prevent abuse
ACLU; 2002: (“What’s Wrong With Public Video Surveillance?” httpss://www.aclu.org/whatswrong-public-video-surveillance; Sieg)
Advanced surveillance systems such as CCTV need to be subject to
checks and balances. Because the technology has evolved so quickly,
however, checks and balances to prevent the kinds of abuses outlined above don't exist.
Two elements in particular are missing: A consensus on limits for the capability of
public CCTV systems. Unfortunately, history has shown that surveillance
technologies put in place for one purpose inevitably expand into other uses. And with video
technology likely to continue advancing, the lack of any clear boundaries for what
CCTV systems should be able to do poses a significant danger. In just the past
several years, many cities, including Washington, New York, Chicago, and Los
Angeles, have for the first time installed significant numbers of policeoperated cameras trainined on public spaces. And once these surveillance
facilities are put in place, police departments will be in a position to increase
the quality of its technology and the number of its cameras - and will
inevitably be tempted or pressured to do so. Do we want the authorities
installing high-resolution cameras that can read a pamphlet from a mile away?
Cameras equipped to detect wavelengths outside the visible spectrum,
allowing night vision or see-through vision? Cameras equipped with facial
recognition, like those that have been installed in airports and even on the
streets of Tampa, Florida? Cameras augmented with other forms of artificial
intelligence, such as those deployed inChicago? As long as there is no clear
consensus about where we draw the line on surveillance to protect American
values, public CCTV is in danger of evolving into a surveillance monster.
at: wording is circumvented
The plan’s mechanism defines “search” as the use of any surveillance technology
which has the potential to erode any feature of public or private space that protects
private or anonymous action
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
There is, however, a way out of this dilemma: the Fourth Amendment inquiry into what constitutes
a "search" could combine the broader and narrower views of a certain surveillance technology in
a way that takes account of the value that each of these perspectives has for understanding the
danger posed by such a technology. First, courts might begin by taking a broader view and
presumptively classifying as a "search" the use of any surveillance technology which, considered
at a high level of abstraction, has significant potential to pierce, circumvent, or erode any feature
of public or private space that protects private or anonymous action. In a sense, this is what the
Supreme Court did with respect to wiretapping in Berger v. New York, when it considered what type of
statute is necessary to make use of such technology safe for constitutional democracy.442 It stressed
that "[b]y its very nature eavesdropping [whether by wiretapping or other devices] involves an intrusion on privacy that is broad in
scope," and that special safeguards are therefore generally necessary.443
There is little question that, like wiretapping and electronic eavesdropping, video surveillance, use of a
beeper or similar tracking device, and use of infrared technology all present potentially serious
threats to privacy. All of these technologies, after all, are designed to allow police or other
investigators to overcome the barriers or cross distances that citizens have long relied upon to
block external monitoring of their activities. By contrast, when police use only their unaided vision
to observe activities in public spaces, courts might begin with the opposite presumption
because simple visual observation does not usually overcome privacy-protecting barriers unless
the state takes elaborate measures to assure it can do so, such as putting an official observer at every corner.
Having begun by asking when a certain technology, considered in the abstract, presents a threat to privacy, courts might then
take a narrow look at the specific manifestation of the surveillance technique they are examining
to see whether any aspects of this particular surveillance activity should lead them to abandon
their initial presumption. Thus, when police use only their eyesight, but subject citizens to suspicionless, close, and
continuous scrutiny, then this may constitute a search even if unaided visual observation normally does not.444 When a
specific use of video surveillance involves only the use of a single camera to provide only a brief snapshot
of a few suspect transactions, a court might conclude that it is not eroding or circumventing the features
of public space that provide opportunities for anonymous or private action, even if video
surveillance might easily do so when used on a more massive scale . Even technologies
that seem threatening to privacy (such as thermal imaging) might be rendered less threatening by builtin technological protection: as Lee Milstein notes, while the Kyllo majority focused on how developments in a
certain technology might undercut privacy, such developments might also generate effective
and novel ways of protecting it.445
The plan solves – redefinition of searches works
Blitz 13 [Marc Jonathan, Professor, Oklahoma City University School of Law, “The Fourth
Amendment Future of Public Surveillance: Remote Recording and Other Searches in Public
Space,” 63 Am. U.L. Rev. 21, American University Law Review, October, 2013, lexis] //khirn
This Article proposes a way to mark that line. It does not do so by asking how long, or how intently, police focus on a particular
person or event, but rather by suggesting a different criterion. Whether public surveillance is a search should
depend not on duration or the quantity of information gathered by a surveillance method, but
rather on that method's nature or design. n29 More specifically, public [*28] surveillance should count
as a search when it takes one of two forms. First, police engage in a Fourth Amendment
search, even in public space , when they are not merely observing but also recording
images or sounds of people. Additionally, the police must obtain these images and sounds from
events and people outside the recording officer's presence. In other words, the government does not
conduct a search whenever an officer simply turns on an iPhone camera or a camcorder and then records
what is happening in front of him. Rather, a public search occurs when recording technology allows officials
to record events that they would otherwise not be able to see or hear. n30 Second, a search can also
occur in public when police magnify and observe details on a person, or the documents or other items she
is carrying, so as to reveal information that would not otherwise have been apparent without a pat-down
or some other stop-and-search of a person's papers or "effects." n31
disadvantages
2ac crime da
CCTV doesn’t prevent crime—technical difficulties and incompetent staffing
Keval and Sasse 10 Researcher at the Ergonomics Research and Safety institute and professor
of Human-Centred Security, Head of Information Security Research, and Director of the UK
Research Institute in Science of Cyber Security (Hina and Martina-Angela, Security Journal,
““Not the Usual Suspects ” : A Study of Factors Reducing the Effectiveness of CCTV” p. 135 – 6,
2010, http://www.palgrave-journals.com/sj/journal/v23/n2/pdf/8350092a.pdf) | js
Luff et al . (2000) conducted a naturalistic fi eld study in a London Underground CCTV and dispatch control room, to see how
control room staff used different technologies to support their everyday work activities. They investigated how operators monitored
their surrounding domain and colleague activities using different tools and systems. Luff et al . found that the task of
monitoring CCTV was affected by poor positioning of cameras. Some camera views were not clear,
as they were covered in train brake dust, were out of focus and had a “ burnt-out ” appearance for unknown
reasons. Technology was diffi cult to manage because there were many separate systems which should
have been integrated. Luff et al . proposed recommendations, which included integrating information sources, making relevant
station information accessible to operators in different locations and the use of a touch-screen interface to allow cameras to be
displayed instantly on monitors in the control room. McCarthy et al . (1997) conducted a fi eld study in an ambulance control room.
Operators were interviewed and observed to understand how they located camera scenes using CCTV, communication tools and
maps when dispatching ambulances. The study involved the evaluation of a computer and communication system at one ambulance
control room, for the possible deployment into another control room. McCarthy et al . identifi ed a number of
communication problems when callers reported incidents over the phone. For example, information
was poorly delivered when callers needed an ambulance because of their strong A Study of Factors Reducing the
Effectiveness of CCTV 136 accents, delaying ambulance dispatches. Also, callers (unintentionally) gave poor
descriptions of their location when an ambulance was requested. Controllers were also poor in responding to calls, as
they lacked experience in identifying camera scenes quickly. Ambulance control rooms operate similarly to
CCTV control rooms – since both settings involve a number of operators monitoring and responding to incidents on the outside with
the support of CCTV, maps and communication tools. Although ambulance operators used radio and CCTV video and monitoring
systems to locate scenes, McCarthy et al . did not examine the effectiveness of the technology and instead examined the
communication factors that affected the task. A national study on the effectiveness of CCTV was conducted for the U.K. Home Offi ce
( Gill and Spriggs, 2005 ; Gill et al ., 2005 ). In this study, observations and interviews were carried out at 13 public-space CCTV
control rooms, which were set up under the Home Offi ce Crime Reduction Programme. At these control rooms, the activities from
public CCTV cameras were monitored by CCTV operators with the support of artefacts such as Pan Tilt, and Zoom (PTZ) camera
controls, computer systems, telephones and radios. Various aspects of the control room operations were examined, such as
ownership, design, management, working practices, communication, operator pay and training, as well as the processing of CCTV
evidence. Although the study did not examine the impact of specifi c technologies on the operator ’ s task performance, a number
of technical failures affecting task performance were identifi ed. For instance, it was found across
several control rooms that there was a very high camera-to-operator and camera-to-monitor ratio, which
reduced the “ … probability of spotting an incident or providing usable recordings ” (p. 8). It was also
found that video in control rooms which recorded analogue video was very poor quality because the tapes were
being re-used too often. At the control rooms which recorded digital CCTV, the recording quality of the video was also very
poor. In terms of temporal quality, Gill et al . found that many systems were recording video at half a frame per second 1 (fps). In two
cases, the frame rate was low as ¼ fps and at one of these control rooms the video quality was so poor the evidence
could not be used for investigations and the police described the video as “ virtually useless ” . Gill
et al . found that the recording rates were chosen based on the equipment purchased by management and the equipment was
purchased based on their budgets and advice provided by consultants. Ten out of the 13 control rooms Gill et al . studied used
analogue technology to record CCTV and at these control rooms very few used other systems which were digital.
CCTV cameras can’t reduce crime—statistics indicating a decrease in crime rates
don’t consider the displacement effect
Cereza 13 Associate Professor at the University of Malaga, Vice-Director at the Institute of
Criminology, Fulbright Visiting Researcher In the School of Criminal Justice (Ana, European
Journal of Criminology, “CCTV and crime displacement: A quasi-experimental evaluation” p.
234 – 5, 2013, http://euc.sagepub.com/content/10/2/222.full.pdf) | js
After a year of implementation, the installation of a CCTV system on certain streets of Malaga has not
significantly reduced criminal activity. On those streets, the data registered by the police indicate a
decrease of 1.9 percent, and from our citizen surveys we can deduce a decrease of 3.6 percent. Nevertheless, the
increase in criminal activity registered by the police on some of the streets close to those with video
cameras, as well as in other streets with similar characteristics to the streets with video cameras, confirms a possible
displacement effect. The victimization rate also falls considerably less on those streets close to video cameras in relation to
the area controlled by video cameras. This displacement is more evident regarding crimes against property than crimes against
people, since with respect to the latter there were no significant differences between the experimental and the control areas. These
results to a great extent support the initial hypotheses of this study. With respect to the first hypothesis, we had predicted a decrease
in the levels of delinquency in those places in which video cameras were to be installed, which has been confirmed. According to this
same hypothesis, it was in particular the percentage of most property crimes that decreased in the experimental area, as opposed to
the control area. Regarding the second hypothesis, we proved a displacement of crime not only towards the
streets adjacent to the area controlled by video cameras in the experimental area, but even towards those
streets – in the control area – with similar characteristics to the streets with video cameras. We could
argue that this displacement is directly caused by the installation of the video cameras and not by
other factors, since criminal activity has barely changed on the streets that are further away, that is, those in
the control area with similar characteristics to the streets adjacent to the area controlled by video cameras in the experimental area.
We are aware that a year is not enough monitoring. In order to reconfirm the displacement hypothesis, further research is necessary.
The only hypothesis that could not be validated was the third. We did not observe significant differences between
the experimental and control areas regarding perceptions of crime, in terms of either its frequency or the
fear of being the victim of a crime. Nevertheless, we have been able to prove interesting variations regarding certain
sociodemographic and situational variables. Among these, we highlight that the people surveyed at night showed greater worry
about being the victim of a crime before the installation of the video cameras than after. Downloaded from euc.sagepub.com at UNIV
OF MICHIGAN on July 17, 2015 Cerezo 235 Lastly, most of those surveyed, both citizens and shopkeepers, knew of the existence of
cameras on some streets of the historic centre and seemed satisfied with their efficacy. Specifically, shopkeepers recognized that the
cameras offer greater peace of mind for their businesses and they want the installation of more video cameras because of their
importance, according to them, as a preventive measure against possible robberies in their shops. Finally, the results of this study,
besides being in line with those obtained in other countries, show that the use of video cameras has very limited
positive effects, focusing on certain types of crime and being partially counteracted by collateral
effects in other related areas. On the other hand, the effects on fear of crime are not conclusive enough.
CCTV surveillance fails to provide security and limits the freedom of public spaces
Poyser 4 Senior Lecturer in Criminology at Nottingham Trent University (Sam, The Police
Journal, “Does the Effectiveness of CCTV as a Crime Prevention Strategy Outweigh the Threat
to Civil Liberties” p. 122 – 124, 2004, HeinOnline) | js
One of the most interesting (and controversial) uses of CCTV has been seen in an attempt to tackle citycentre crime. City-centre regeneration today is built around mixed, 24-hour use. It is characterised by retailing, consumption,
commerce, leisure, tourism and culture. and is coordinated by town centre management teams (Norris et al.. 1998). CCI'V is
promoted here as an aid to public freedom, social amenity and safety to shop (Barry. 1996). Potential
city-centre users and investors are deterred by high crime levels and quality-of-life issues such as
litter, vagrants and gangs of loitering youths (Coleman & Sim, 2000). CCTV may help in deterring such behaviour
(ibid.). This may also be beneficial as such minor signs of decay (if left in an area) may encourage offenders to migrate there, leading
to a spiral of decline (Wilson & Kelling, 1982). The limits of CCTV are constantly being extended, with some systems now being used
to combat parking meter evasion and under-age smoking (Oc & Tiesdell, 1997). However, CCTV may also be used to
restrict access to public space (a place that, by definition, should permit unhindered access to
all) (ibid.). This subject will be returned to shortly. CCTV is heavily promoted as a tool in reducing fear of
crime (Herbert & Darwood, 1992), and especially in improving people's feelings of safety after dark (particularly
when com- bined with street lighting) (Brown, 1995). However, evidence suggests that such improvements may
be short-term, with little overall improvement in feelings of safety over time. Ultimately, people
appear to prefer 'natural' police surveillance to electronic surveillance (Ditton, 2000). It appears that
claims that CCTV reduces fear of crime and increases feelings of safety amongst the most
vulnerable in society are also questionable. Women, for example, arguably police themselves (by
avoidance behaviour) and are therefore less likely to be in areas where CCTV is concentrated in the first
place (Norris et al., 1998). In addition, arguably the risk of violence towards women remains in the private, not
the public, sphere so that CCTV does little to prevent such crimes. Research also indicates that many women
fear voyeuristic youths at the monitors (Oc & Tiesdell, 1997) as there appears to be 'no guarantee
against the "Peeping Tom"' (Beck & Willis, 1995: 194). Ultimately, reliance on CCTV may reduce spending
on projects designed to enhance women’s security in other ways, thereby further limiting women’s
freedom. Victims of crime are also thought to be reassured by the presence of CCTV. However, there is evidence that victims,
especially repeat victims, of violence are less likely to support its installation than non-victims (Ditton, 2000).
Returning to city centres, and CCTV 's fear-reduction capa- bilities, a question should be raised as to whether city centres really are
threatening wastelands of victimisation at night (and whether society should want to reduce fear here). Young people regularly visit
city centres at night and feel relatively safe. A safer city centre might deter rather than attract them. Arguably, people want to be safe
in the city whilst not necessarily wanting it to be safe! Ordinary fear can be viewed as a natural, func- tional, even
creative element (Ditton, 2000). To remove the element of risk, unpredictability and insecurity is,
arguably, to remove one dimension of public life that encourages individuals to tolerate and
accept the presence of those different to them- selves. Therefore, CCTV might reduce the potential
of public space to be genuinely civilising and civic (Oc & Tiesdell, 1997). Also, installation of CCI'V might not only
fail to make the unsafe feel safe, but might also make the already-safe feel safer (ibid.); or the presence of cameras may itself be a
fear-generator, (people may believe that if cameras are needed, there must be a serious crime problem)
(ibid.).
CCTV can’t solve crime permanently—unreliable footage, displacement effect, and
biased statistics
Poyser 4 Senior Lecturer in Criminology at Nottingham Trent University (Sam, The Police
Journal, “Does the Effectiveness of CCTV as a Crime Prevention Strategy Outweigh the Threat
to Civil Liberties” p. 124 – 126, 2004, HeinOnline) | js
As the successes of CCI'V are well publicised by the Government, the police and the media, it could be
presumed that its effectiveness has been thoroughly evaluated (Davies, 1996a). However, this is far
from the case (Koch, 1998). In 1995, for example, the Government distributed £15 million, under the auspices of the CCTV
Challenge Competition (Home Office, 1995), without first conducting systematic evaluations as to whether this was indeed the right
area upon which to focus (Norris et al., 1998). In 1994, the Home Office document Looking Out for You (Edwards & Tilley, 1994)
encouraged an increase in the use of CCTV, whilst also admitting that the Government did not know how long an operator could
concen- trate on the screens: surely an important factor in determining effectiveness! In fact, viewing large numbers of screens and
monitors for long periods is psychologically overwhelming (Pierce, 1992). Indeed, while some initial evaluations report dramatic
reductions in both reported crime levels and the pub- lic's fear of crime. the unreliability of the available evaluations
and statistics means that there is still very little systematic research suggesting that CCI'V actually
works (Armitage. 2002). For example: (1) evaluations have not been conducted by fully independ- ent
researchers; (2) different types of crime are considered together, possibly concealing rises in some types of
crime; (3) recorded crime is being measured (using official statis- tics as the sole indicator of effectiveness
is questionable, as these are not a true reflection of the total occurrence of crime);(4) the nature of attendant
publicity is rarely mentioned; and (5) the before-and~after periods are not long enough, so that impact
maintenance cannot be assessed (people may, for example, get used to the presence of CCTV, so that its effectiveness is reduced over
time) (Home. 1996). Other problems concern the evaluation of public support (Ekblom & Tilley, 2000). The level of public support
as meas- ured by question items seems to be influenced by question content. Therefore, previous studies may have
overestimated support as a result of unintentional bias (Norris et al., 1998). Indeed, the more targeted a
survey is, the less respondents appear to want CCTV (Ditton, 2000). In discussing the effectiveness of
CCTV, the displacement of crime merits special attention. Whilst particularly difficult to quantify or identify, it is
suggested that displacement can be: (1) Spatial (to another location); (2) Temporal (to another time); (3) Tactical (to
another modus operandt); (4) Target (to another less risky target); or (5) Type (to another type of crime) (Home, 1996). An
example of displacement is found in Brown's (1995) case study of CCTV in three town centres, which despite finding
benefits also found that robbery and theft from the person and cars had increased in areas where there was
either partial or no CCI'V coverage. Although some research suggests that CCTV installation might result in a diffusion
of benefits (i.e. the good effect may spread out beyond the immediate area of application) (Home, 1996), it is unlikely that
people permanently cease their criminal activities because of the presence of cameras (Armitage, 2002).
Indeed, the systems seem not to figure highly in many offenders' risk assessments (Ekblom & Tilley, 2000),
and the effect is still less for juvenile offenders (ironic, as juveniles make up a high number of the offending
population) (Home, 1996). As has been mentioned, CCTV footage is praised for contributing to the prosecution process by
increasing offenders' guilty pleas and thus avoiding the considerable costs associated with contested trials (Brown, 1995). However,
research also suggests that, whilst it is not a primary use of the system, identification of unfamiliar persons from
security-video footage is often unreli- able (Davies, 1996b). There are now cases on record where questionable
convictions have been secured on evidence based wholly or primarily upon the alleged physical
resemblance between the suspect and the person captured on videotape (Davies & Thesen, 2000).
CCTV cameras reinforce the urban panopticon, sanitizing society by facilitating
exclusion of so-called “deviants”
Poyser 4 Senior Lecturer in Criminology at Nottingham Trent University (Sam, The Police
Journal, “Does the Effectiveness of CCTV as a Crime Prevention Strategy Outweigh the Threat
to Civil Liberties” p. 128 – 129, 2004, HeinOnline) | js
One of the main concerns regarding CCTV surveillance is its potential to be used as a method of social control
(thereby restricting people's freedom). The increasing sophistication of the technology now facilitates the
identification of individuals and the monitoring of their activities in public places on a grand scale
(Newbum & Hayman, 2002). In addition, communications and corroborative software facilitate both the sharing and the
centralisation of such data. As a technique of social control, CCTV may also increase social inequality and
exclusion by, for example, fundamentally altering the nature of the interaction between the watcher
and the watched. In public space. the gaze between people is not fixed. If the eyes of both parties meet, they are soon
defensively diverted, creating a degree of equality between parties. CCTV, however, allows the watchers to be
physically removed from the immediate vicinity of the watched. Therefore, a person cannot tell
whether they are being watched and cannot directly challenge the watcher. Nor can a person
judge whether the gaze has been equally cast upon the whole population or whether they are targeted by virtue, not of
their behaviour, but of their personal characteristics (ibid.). Young men, especially black men, are suspicious of the
systems. per- haps already feeling excluded from many places where they arguably experience intense scrutiny from security guards
(Oc & Tiesdell, 1997). In this way, CCTV monitoring may reinforce stereotypes, discrimination and social
difference (Lyon. 2001). UDVIIIVDJ rvv, soavvanllulluuvu \IJl\| V nu-I uunvnvllvv \n.lJ vu, uvv A/o CCTV has the power to
monitor public morals, decorum and demeanour, as well as criminal behaviour (Beck & Willis, 1995). Therefore, the level of
antisocial/immoral behaviour that justifies its deployment is a civil liberties issue (Ditton, 2000).
Arguably, CCTV encourages an enforced conscience: people are not only being watched, but also watch over
themselves. Here, the rela- tionship between surveillance and power is its capacity to induce conformity (Norris
er al., 1998). Foucault's (1977) idea of the Panoptican has been used to explore the disciplinary potential
of CCI'V (McCahill, 2002), whereby conformity is induced on the basis of a potential response and allows the possibility of rapid
intervention at any moment At present, the public peace is maintained by a complex, 'unconscious' network
of voluntary controls and standards amongst, and enforced by, people them- selves. This may gradually be lost as
CCTV comes to take over this function (Jacobs, 1961). Rather than 'Big Brother', CCTV could more appropriately be
labelled 'Big Daddy'. It is not unlike having Daddy follow one in one's daily activities, shout- ing, 'No, don't do that, (or you'll be
punished)!' Surely, this is more problematic if CCTV is being used to police not just criminal activities, but also morals,
decorum and demeanour (Ditton, 2000). Even as a crime-prevention measure, CCTV is already desig- nating
who can legitimately use public space, where and when (ibid.). In this way, it may infringe the civil liberties of
those who are targeted as illegitimate users. Such targeting has been described as 'profile-based exclusion' (Von Hirsch &
Shearing, 2000), namely barring from entry those whose characteristics are deemed indicative of a
heightened risk of criminal offending. The actor's agency is by-passed (Hughes, 1998), and this is more
concerning as many public services are increasingly being pro- vided on private property where the management has a right to deny
access (McCahill, 2002). Ultimately, with the exclusion of 'trouble groups', places may attain a 'sanitised
state' (ibid.). Interestingly, marginalisation, inequality and exclusion may well be at the roots of much
criminal and antisocial activity, so that CCTV may actually perpetuate, and even increase, such behav- iour (ibid.).
There is the additional issue of social labelling, as a 'known criminal' or 'troublemaker' will always be labelled as
such by CCTV operators (Home, 1996). This is in contrast to criminological research, suggesting that
societies seeking to reintegrate rather than exclude their deviant members have the lowest crime rates
(Coleman & Sim, 2000). There are also worrying implications for the use of police discretion. Discretion plays a fundamental role in
performing a balancing act in police- police become less dependent upon, and further distanced , the
public (Box er al.. 1988).
at: surveillance good for women
Surveillance doesn’t benefit women – crimes are hard to interpret and voyeurism
is a realistic concern
Koskela 2K (Hillie Koskela, professor researching on social power relations and critical
social science, University of Helsinki, 2000, “‘The gaze without eyes’: video-surveillance and the
changing nature of urban space”)
As has already been argued, since video-surveillance usually reduces everything to the visual, it is unable to identify
situations where more sensitive interpretation is needed. For example, surveillance overseers can
easily observe clearly visible but otherwise minor offences while ignoring situations they might
regard as ambivalent, such as (verbal) sexual harassment (Koskela, 2000). Most cameras are unable to
interpret threatening situations that are not visually recognizable, and therefore cases of
harassment often go unnoticed. Sexual harassment is more difficult to identify, and to interrupt, by
surveillance camera than by the police/guards patrolling on foot. This insensitivity of the cameras – i.e., restriction
within the field of vision – is an important reason for doubt and disorientation. ‘The gaze’ becomes
gendered.7 This failure could be understood as a ‘passive’ relationship between surveillance and harassment, but there is more to
surveillance than this. There is a dimension that could be understood as an ‘active’ relationship
between surveillance and harassment. By this I mean it is possible to use surveillance cameras as a
means of harassment. There is some voyeuristic fascination in looking, in being able to see. And scrutiny is a common and
effective form of harassment (Gardner, 1995). In urban space women are the ones likely to be looked at – the
objects of the gaze (Massey, 1994: 234).8 Furthermore, one of the very reasons for women’s insecurity is
their ‘exaggerated visibility’ (Brown, 1998: 218). Paradoxically, women are marginalized by being at the
centre (of the looks) (cf. Rose, 1993). As used by an abuser, a ‘look’ can be as effective a weapon as
physical violence: ‘[p]ower and the gaze are always linked in the mind of the intimidated’ (MacCannell and MacCannell, 1993:
215). Looking connotates power, and being looked at powerlessness. Harassment makes the gaze
reproduce the embodiment and sexualization of women. Although there is not a great deal of published
research on the gendered aspects of surveillance, the points made here can be supported by empirical evidence. It has been
shown that there is public concern about the ‘potential ‘Peeping Tom’ element’ (Honess and Charman,
1992: 9), that women are worried about possible ‘voyeurism’ (Trench, 1997: 149; Brown, 1998: 218), and that cameras positioned in
places of an intimate nature irritate women (Koskela, 2000). In addition, there is anecdotal evidence of the camera
abuse. Hillier (1996: 99–100) describes the case of Burswood Casino in Australia, where the security camera operators had
videotaped women in toilets and artists’ changing rooms, zooming in on the exposed parts of their bodies and editing the video
sequences on to one tape that was shown at local house parties. In like manner, in the summer of 1997 it was discovered that
Swedish conscript solders had been ‘entertaining’ themselves by monitoring topless women on a beach near their navy base, taping
the women and printing pictures of them to hang on the barrack walls (Helsingin Sanomat, 17 December 1997). The cameras
used were of extremely high quality and, hence, the pictures were quite explicit. These cases (the
latter now being investigated as a crime) are glaring examples of the possibility of the masculinization and
militarization of space, of the gendering of surveillance and of the abuse of control. Furthermore,
surveillance does not replace or erase other forms of embodiment: women still encounter sexual harassment and
objectifying attitudes in their face-to-face contacts in urban space. Surveillance might be a way
of reproducing and reinforcing male power. It is ‘opening up new possibilities for harassment’ (Ainley, 1998: 92).
Surveillance can be understood as the ‘re-embodiment’ of women, as ‘an extension of male gaze’. It has been suggested that more
knowledge is needed about ‘how disciplinary power operates in connection with other tools of class and gender oppression’
(Hannah, 1997a: 179). Arguably, the practice of surveillance could contribute to perpetuating the existing imbalance in gender
relations, rather than challenging it. The powerspace is gendered.
2ac court da’s
No link to any legitimacy loss or controversy --- the Court just flip-flopped on the
issue and has no stable precedent --- clarity provided by the plan boosts the Court’s
credibility
Blitz 13 [Marc Jonathan, Professor, Oklahoma City University School of Law, “The Fourth
Amendment Future of Public Surveillance: Remote Recording and Other Searches in Public
Space,” 63 Am. U.L. Rev. 21, American University Law Review, October, 2013, lexis] //khirn
This revolution in surveillance techniques not only provides an important boon for law enforcement. It also raises an important
challenge for constitutional law. As police gain the ability to monitor citizens' public movements and activities with increasingly
powerful cameras, does the Fourth Amendment's protection against "unreasonable searches" place any hurdles in their way? Do
police need to obtain a warrant based on probable cause or to satisfy some other constitutional
test of reasonableness before they use a drone to track a person's movements or reconstruct
those movements using video footage from public cameras?
[*25] Only a few years ago, most courts and lawyers would have answered "no ." n9 The Fourth
Amendment protects people - and their "houses, papers, and effects" - from being subject to "unreasonable searches and seizures" by
government officials. n10 Supreme Court Justices as well as legal scholars have generally interpreted this provision as protecting
individuals in the home, or some other space that is objectively and reasonably private or personal. n11 The Fourth
Amendment bars the government, for example, from spying upon citizens in their living rooms
and bedrooms; prying into their wallets, purses, or other closed "containers"; and opening sealed envelopes or closed drawers
to read their private letters and diaries. n12 More generally, as Justice Harlan emphasized in Katz v. United States, n13 the
government generally does not need a warrant any time it watches us, but only when it observes
us or examines our belongings after entry into places or circumstances in which we have a
"reasonable expectation of privacy." n14
By contrast, the open and public space that we share with others - in streets, public squares, and parks - is not
a private environment. We cannot exclude fellow citizens from this space nor command them to
close their eyes and ears to what is going on around them. For example, when a person drives on a
highway, she might be seen or even followed by other drivers, and some of these other drivers might be police
officers. The Supreme Court held in United States v. [*26] Knotts n15 that individuals have no reasonable expectation of privacy in
their movements on public roadways. n16 Thus, people cannot raise Fourth Amendment complaints when
their actions are open to the public, including law enforcement officers, even if these officers use hidden
location-tracking devices or other technology to do so. n17 While people may create some measure of constitutionally protected
privacy, even in public spaces, by closing their car doors or keeping documents and other items inside a briefcase, purse, or some
other container, n18 people cannot constitutionally shield the actions they leave visible or audible. As one judge said in a recent
Global Positioning System (GPS) tracking case: "The practice of using ... devices to monitor movements on public roads falls
squarely within the Court's consistent teaching that people do not have a legitimate expectation of privacy in that which they ... leave
open to view by others." n19
Or so the Supreme Court and other courts insisted - until a year ago. In the 2012 case of United States v. Jones, n20
five Justices, in two separate concurring opinions, indicated that it is time for a doctrinal change .
n21 These five justices suggested that an important constitutional line is crossed - and the constraints of the Fourth
Amendment are triggered - when public surveillance becomes too intense or prolonged . n22 Justice
Alito, for example, argued that, while "relatively short-term monitoring of a person's movements on public streets" is generally free
from Fourth Amendment restriction, "use of longer term GPS monitoring in investigations of most offenses [*27] impinges on
expectations of privacy" and should constitute a Fourth Amendment search. n23
The justices did not, however, clearly identify how long or how intense public surveillance
must be to cross the constitutional dividing line. n24 They did not have to do so because the
majority opinion relied on a different rationale to require a warrant . The majority
emphasized that the installation of a GPS device on a car prior to tracking was a trespass. n25 Because the Supreme Court did not
hold that the tracking of public movements alone violated the Fourth Amendment, it did not need to specify the point at which
public tracking may violate the Fourth Amendment. n26 While this particular instance of public tracking began
with a "trespassory" planting of a GPS device, n27 other kinds of public surveillance - including
most forms of video surveillance - do not. The public street cameras that capture a car's movements, or those
that do so from a drone hovering overhead, do not require police to touch the car - let alone alter it - to surveil its
movements. n28 When the Justices confront a case like this, they may have to clearly delineate the constitutional boundary line
between a search and non-search.
There is no precedent on this question and uncertainty/inconsistency defines the
status quo
Blitz 13 [Marc Jonathan, Professor, Oklahoma City University School of Law, “The Fourth
Amendment Future of Public Surveillance: Remote Recording and Other Searches in Public
Space,” 63 Am. U.L. Rev. 21, American University Law Review, October, 2013, lexis] //khirn
[*35] Judges
are unlikely to provide consistent answers to these questions. This was evident in the
case of United States v. Cuevas-Perez, n63 in which the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Seventh
Circuit attempted to apply the D.C. Circuit's Fourth Amendment analysis without expressly
endorsing it. n64 The majority concluded that Maynard's "mosaic" rule simply did not apply to the facts before it because the
police had followed Cuevas-Perez for sixty hours, not for twenty-eight days as in Maynard, and had tracked his movements on a
"single journey," rather than on multiple trips. n65 The dissent, by contrast, pointed out that monitoring of the defendant on a "60hour odyssey across 1,650 miles" is far from the kind of brief trip that might be too insignificant to require Fourth Amendment
constraints. n66
The problem is that no apparent principle explicates whether, or why, sixty hours is short enough to
remain free from Fourth Amendment restraints . After all, if the danger raised by ongoing
GPS surveillance is that it allows police to "connect the dots" of a person's movements and draw
inferences about her private plans, a sixty-hour period is probably sufficient time to draw such a
connection and make inferences based on the data gathered. n67 To take the D.C. Circuit's own example from
Maynard, a woman's visit to a baby supply store may certainly come within sixty hours of her visit to a gynecologist; thus, observers
will hardly need twenty-eight days, or even a week, to learn details about that woman's life that are unlikely to be apparent to others
in public space. This uncertainty about how much police can learn in a day, or a week, also provides
reason to question the Virginia Supreme Court's conclusion that Maynard's mosaic theory
should not apply to GPS tracking that lasts less than a week. n68 It is not clear that a week-long monitoring
period is short enough to avoid the dangers of aggregated information that concerned the D.C. Circuit. n69
The Fourth Amendment line-drawing challenge courts face in public spaces is, in many ways, analogous to the one that Professor
Orin Kerr recently addressed in proposing a Fourth Amendment [*36] regime for Internet communications. n70 As Kerr pointed
out, the key problem in determining whether Internet surveillance constitutes a search is that the natural marker that generally
delineates what constitutes a Fourth Amendment search in physical space - namely, the distinction between an enclosed, private
space and an observable, public environment - does not exist on the Internet. n71 "The distinction between government surveillance
outside and government surveillance inside," Kerr writes, "is probably the foundational distinction in Fourth Amendment law"
because the government does not need any cause or order to conduct surveillance outside," but "entering enclosed spaces ordinarily
constitutes a search that triggers the Fourth Amendment." n72 However, the Internet does not fit nicely into this model because
there is no outside/inside division to rely upon. Everything on the Internet is considered to be enclosed and inside. n73 Kerr
therefore argued that Fourth Amendment law needs a new, functionally equivalent distinction to mark the boundary between
searches and non-searches. n74 He proposed that courts should rely on the distinction between content and non-content in e-mails
or other Internet communications. n75 When investigators intercept and read the contents of a person's e-mail, for example, they
are conducting a Fourth Amendment search and must first obtain a warrant or otherwise show their search is reasonable. n76
Conversely, when investigators merely want to look at the address information on the e-mail, they are doing the equivalent of
looking at the outside of an envelope, not the letter inside, and this monitoring of non-content information is therefore not a Fourth
Amendment search. n77
If Internet surveillance raises a Fourth Amendment problem because everything is "inside," public surveillance raises a
similar problem because everything is outside. Public surveillance is "public" because it focuses
on the outside world and, more specifically, on visible behavior in it. Here too, then, Fourth Amendment law
needs [*37] a replacement for the outside/inside distinction. It needs a new boundary line to
demarcate parts of the outside world that deserve to be treated like inside spaces for Fourth
Amendment purposes - parts of our life in public that, like our living rooms and bedrooms, deserve to be
constitutionally insulated from government scrutiny.
The lack of a replacement for the outside-inside distinction in public space leaves judges without a key resource for determining
what counts as a search in public space. Without such a line, it is difficult for courts to pronounce long-lasting public surveillance to
be a search on the basis that certain forms of it seem disturbingly intrusive. n78 These intrusions do not, by themselves, tell us how
to distinguish investigations that are invasive enough to require constitutional oversight from those that are not.
There is a second difficulty in treating public surveillance as a search: if courts subject police to significant
constitutional limits in monitoring public space, they risk crippling law enforcement's efforts to
do what it is charged with doing. Police are not only generally as free as other citizens to watch
the streets they patrol, they are duty-bound to do so. So it seems counterintuitive to require police to
obtain a warrant before showing the vigilance they are required to show as a condition of their
work.
One might suggest that courts should impose Fourth Amendment requirements only on focused investigations of public space and
not on casual observations that police make while on patrol. But even this approach arguably restricts police too tightly. Because
law enforcement is generally barred from conducting warrantless investigations of homes and
other private spaces, it needs to begin an investigation somewhere else - in the public
space outside of the home . As the Supreme Court noted in California v. Ciraolo, n79 in order to obtain the
probable cause required to obtain a warrant, police must begin investigating and collecting
evidence before they have probable cause . n80 Thus, there needs to be some place to start. n81
In short, if courts and scholars extend Fourth Amendment protection beyond homes, private drawers,
and journals into the realm of public and visible activity, they have to recognize that they are
extending it into a realm that is, in many ways, and to a far greater extent than the [*38] activity
in a home or other private environment, very much the government's business.
Effective investigation, moreover, often requires police to take advantage of new surveillance technologies. As the Seventh Circuit
noted in an earlier GPS case, the Fourth Amendment "cannot sensibly be read to mean that police shall be no more efficient in the
twenty-first century than they were in the eighteenth." n82
2ac court stripping
no link--there won’t be court stripping for constitutional rulings
Gerhardt, 5 (Michael, professor of law at William & Mary, 9 Lewis & Clark L. Rev. 347,
Summer, lexis)
It follows that Congress may not, even through the exercise of its plenary power to regulate
federal jurisdiction, overrule a federal court's decision on constitutional law or require
inferior courts not to follow it. Nor, for that matter, may Congress direct the Court to ignore, or
not to rely on, or make reference to, some of its constitutional opinions. Indeed, the Supreme
Court has long recognized that Congress may not use its power to regulate jurisdiction - or, for
that matter, any other of its powers - in an effort to override substantive judicial decisions. n11
Efforts taken in response to, or retaliation against, judicial decisions to withdraw all federal
jurisdiction are transparent attempts to influence, or displace, substantive judicial outcomes.
For several decades, Congress, for good reason, has refrained from enacting such laws; and it
has never previously enacted a law that withdraws all federal jurisdiction over particular
constitutional claims.
other branches can’t strip the court—its politically impossible and empirically
false
Bhagwat, 2k (Ashutosh, professor of law at the University of California, Hastings College of
Law, 80 B.U.L. Rev. 967, October, lexis)
Finally, the most obvious limitation on the Court's power is of course the physical impotence of
the judicial branch. The Court depends on the other branches to enforce its judgments, leaving
them with the ultimate potential check on the Court: inaction. The other branches employed this
check after the Court's decision in Worcester v. Georgia, n238 and arguably employed it again
during the first decade after the Court's decision in Brown v. Board of Education. n239 In
practice, however, for political reasons the willingness of the [*1012] other branches to flout
judicial orders has diminished substantially, to the point of nonexistence. This is in part because
of the tremendous prestige enjoyed by the Supreme Court, and in part because of the rather low
esteem into which the elected branches have fallen. The consequence is that to fight the Court
would entail tremendous political costs, costs that neither the Congress nor the President are
willing to accept today. As a result the modern Court's frontal assault on affirmative action,
n240its new-found limitations on congressional regulatory authority, n241 and its inroads into
congressional authority over the states based on quite dubious readings of the Tenth and
Eleventh Amendments, n242have been accepted by the other branches without much
resistance, or even vocal complaint. More fundamentally, the modern Court has claimed for
itself the right to define the nature and scope of its own constitutional authority, n243 a power
that it denies the other branches of government, n244 and yet the other branches have
acquiesced to the Court's claim in recent years (in contrast to the views of Presidents Jefferson,
Jackson, Lincoln, and Franklin Roosevelt). n245 Of course, in politics all things come to an end,
and the current immunity of the Court from political interference may well pass. For now,
however, there is little that the other branches seem [*1013] willing to do to limit the Court's
assertions and exercise of power.
2ac politics da
Courts don’t link
A. Institutional and persuasive power
Pacelle 2 [Richard L. Pacelle, Associate Professor, Political Science, University of Missouri-St.
Louis, THE ROLE OF THE SUPREME COURT IN AMERICAN POLITICS, 2002, p. 102]
The limitations on the Court are not as significant as they once seemed. They constrain the Court, but the boundaries of those
constraints are very broad. Justiciability is self-imposed and seems to be a function of the composition of the Court rarther than a
philosophical position. Checks and balances are seldom successfully invoked against the judiciary, in
part because the Court has positive institutional resource to justify its decision. The Supreme
Court has a relatively high level of diffuse support that comes, in part, from a general lack of
knowledge by the public and that contributes to its legitimacy. The cloak of the Constitution and
the symbolism attendant to the marble palace and the law contribute as well. As a result,
presidents and the Congress should pause before striking at the Court or refusing to follow its
directives. Indeed, presidents and members of Congress can often use unpopular Court
decisions as political cover. They cite the need to enforce or support such decision even though
they disagree with them. In the end, the institutional limitations do not mandate judicial
restraint, but turn the focus to judicial capacity, the subject of the next chapter.
B. Blame-shifting
Whittington 5 (Keith E., Cromwell Professor of Politics – Princeton University, ““Interpose
Your Friendly Hand”: Political Supports for the Exercise of Judicial Review by the United States
Supreme Court”, American Political Science Review, 99(4), November, p. 585, 591-592)
Political leaders in such a situation will have reason to support or, at minimum, tolerate the active exercise of judicial
review. In the American context, the presidency is a particularly useful site for locating such behavior. The Constitution gives the president a
powerful role in selecting and speaking to federal judges. As national party leaders, presidents and presidential candidates are both
conscious of the fragmented nature of American political parties and sensitive to policy goals that will not be shared by all
of the president’s putative partisan allies in Congress. We would expect political support for judicial review
to make itself apparent in any of four fields of activity: (1) in the selection of “activist” judges, (2) in the encouragement of specific judicial
action consistent with the political needs of coalition leaders, (3) in the congenial reception of judicial action after
it has been taken, and (4) in the public expression of generalized support for judicial supremacy in the articulation of constitutional
commitments. Although it might sometimes be the case that judges and elected officials act in more-or-less explicit
concert to shift the politically appropriate decisions into the judicial arena for resolution, it is also
the case that judges might act independently of elected officials but nonetheless in ways that elected officials find
congenial to their own interests and are willing and able to accommodate . Although Attorney General Richard Olney
and perhaps President Grover Cleveland thought the 1894 federal income tax was politically unwise and socially unjust, they did not necessarily
therefore think judicial intervention was appropriate in the case considered in more detail later (Eggert 1974, 101– 14). If a majority of the
justices and Cleveland-allies in and around the administration had more serious doubts about the constitutionality of the tax, however, the White
House would hardly feel aggrieved. We should be equally interested in how judges
might exploit the political space open
to them to render controversial decisions and in how elected officials might anticipate the utility of future acts of
judicial review to their own interests.
[CONTINUES]
There are some issues that politicians cannot easily handle. For individual legislators, their constituents may be sharply divided on a given issue
or overwhelmingly hostile to a policy that the legislator would nonetheless like to see adopted. Party leaders, including presidents and
legislative leaders, must similarly sometimes manage deeply divided or cross-pressured coalitions. When faced with such issues, elected officials
may actively seek to turn over controversial political questions to the courts so as to
circumvent a paralyzed legislature and avoid the political fallout that would come
with taking direct action themselves. As Mark Graber (1993) has detailed in cases such as slavery and abortion,
elected officials may prefer judicial resolution of disruptive political issues to direct legislative action, especially
when the courts are believed to be sympathetic to the politician’s own substantive preferences but even when the attitude of the courts is
uncertain or unfavorable (see also, Lovell 2003). Even when politicians do not invite judicial intervention, strategically minded courts will take
into account not only the policy preferences of well-positioned policymakers but also the willingness of those potential policymakers to act if
doing so means that they must assume responsibility for policy outcomes. For cross-pressured
politicians and coalition leaders,
shifting blame for controversial decisions to the Court and obscuring their own relationship to those decisions
may preserve electoral support and coalition unity without threatening active judicial review (Arnold 1990; Fiorina
1986; Weaver 1986). The conditions for the exercise of judicial review may be relatively favorable when judicial invalidations of legislative
policy can be managed to the electoral benefit of most legislators. In the cases considered previously, fractious coalitions produced legislation
that presidents and party leaders deplored but were unwilling to block. Divisions within the governing coalition can also prevent legislative action
that political leaders want taken, as illustrated in the following case.
Plan’s announced in June
Ward 10 (Jake, “Bilski Decision Tomorrow (Thursday, June 17th)? Maybe?”, Anticipate This!
(Patent and Trademark Law Blog), 6-17,
http://anticipatethis.wordpress.com/2010/06/16/bilski-decision-tomorrow-thursday-june17th-maybe/)
In mid-May until the end of June, the Supreme Court of the U nited S tates (SCOTUS) releases
orders and opinions. SCOTUS has yet to issue a number of decisions this term, however, and it is
rapidly moving toward summer recess. Most notable from a patent law perspective is that the decision in Bilski v.
Kappos, which was argued in November 2009, has yet to be decided.
Politicians can just say their hands are tied
Dallas Morning News 5 [8/19/05,
http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/news/texassouthwest/legislature/schoolfinan
ce/stories/082005dntexsession.8bd31b4a.html]
That could foreshadow the court's response to a chief argument by state attorneys – that the court should butt out and leave school
finance to the Legislature. A court finding against the state would put the ball back in the hands of
lawmakers, who have tended to put off dealing with problems in schools, prisons and mental health facilities
until state or federal judges forced them to act. "It's the classic political response to problems
they don't want to deal with," said Maurice Dyson, a school finance expert and assistant law professor at
Southern Methodist University. "There is no better political cover than to have a court rule that
something must be done, which allows politicians to say their hands are tied."
The ruling will go unnoticed—no one pays attention
Caldeira 86 [Gregory Caldeira, Professor of Political Science, Ohio State University, 1986, The
American Political Science Review, Vol. 80, No. 4, Dec., pp. 1209-1226; “Neither the Purse Nor
the Sword: Dynamics of Public Confidence in the Supreme Court”; Jstor]
In previous work on support for institutions and leaders, scholars have demonstrated the crucial
effects of discrete political events and circumstances on the rise and decline of public
confidence. For example, Mueller (1973) persuasively argues that crises in foreign affairs result in "rallying-around-the-flag"
and a subsequent increase in the popularity of the incumbent chief executive (cf. Parker, 1977). Unfortunately for the purposes of
analysis,
events normally associated with the Court seldom cause a splash of the dimensions of the
decisions sometimes do gain a fair amount of
attention in the elite media of communications, but few single cases-with the exception of a bombshell such
as Dred Scott-have sufficient weight to shift public attitudes one way or the other. Even if we could
isolate a number of crises or landmark decisions, the polling organizations have not gathered
data on support for the Court often enough to permit a precise reading on the influence of
salient events.
Mayaguez incident or the Cuban missile crisis, Particular
Courts don’t link to politics- shielded from political pressure
Ward 09 [Artemus Ward, Professor at NIU, Political Foundations of Judicial Supremacy,
Congress and The Presidency, pg. 119]
After the old order has collapse the once- united, new-regime coalition begins to fracture as original commitments are extended to
new issues. In chapter 3 Whittington combines Skowronek's articulation and disjunctive categories into the overarching "affiliated"
presidencies as both seek to elaborate the regime begun under reconstructive leaders. By this point in the ascendant regime, Bourts
are staffed by justices from the dominant ruling coalition via the appointment process - and Whittington spends time on
appointment politics here and more fully in chapter 4. Perhaps counter-intuitively, affiliated political actors - including
presidents - encourage Courts to exercise vetoes and operate in issue areas of relatively low political
salience. Of course, this "activism" is never used against the affiliated president per se. Instead, affiliated Courts correct for the
overreaching of those who operate outside the preferred constitutional vision, which are often state and local governments who need
to be brought into line with nationally dominant constitutional commitments. Whittington explains why it is easier for
affilitated judges, rather than affiliated presidents, to rein in outliers and conduct constitutional
maintenance. The latter are saddled with controlling opposition political figures, satisfying
short-term political demands, and navigating intraregime gridlock and political thickets.
Furthermore, because of their electoral accountability, politicians engage in position-taking, credit-claiming,
and blame-avoidance behavior. By contrast, their judicial counterparts are relatively sheltered
from political pressures and have more straightforward decisional processes. Activist Courts can
take the blame for advancing and legitimizing constitutional commitments that might have
electoral costs. In short, a division of labor exists between politicians and judges affiliated with the dominant regime.
2ac sua sponte
Inevitable and empirically false
Bhagwat, 2k (Ashutosh, professor of law at the University of California, Hastings College of
Law, 80 B.U.L. Rev. 967, October, lexis)
Even after it has decided that it should resolve an issue, the Court may choose to pass up cases
presenting the issue until a case with suitable facts is presented. When the Court finally grants
certiorari in a case and then decides it, the Court's opinions on the merits tend to focus almost
exclusively on abstract doctrinal and policy issues, with essentially no discussion of the facts and
equities of the particular case in front if it. Indeed, even after it has crafted a new legal standard,
the modern Court has displayed an increasing tendency to remand the case to a lower court to
apply that standard, rather than to fully resolve the dispute before it as most courts would do as
a matter of course. n154 Finally, Erwin Chemerinsky has noted a recent trend on the Court of
reaching out to decide issues which were not presented in the petition for certiorari, and were
not briefed or argued by the parties. n155 All of these are well-accepted and today largely
uncontroversial aspects of the Court's decision-making process. But taken together, they
emphasize just how far the functions of the modern Supreme Court have drifted from the
traditional judicial role of adversarial dispute resolution, as well as the general acceptance of
this fact. n156
2ac terror da
The plan doesn’t eliminate every form of video surveillance, but requires stronger
protections capable of changing the public sphere --- that means it can still be used
for law enforcement purposes
Blitz 5 [Marc Jonathan, Assistant Professor, Oklahoma City University School of Law,
“Fourteenth Annual Symposium On Contemporary Urban Challenges: The Dangers Of Fighting
Terrorism With Technocommunitarianism: Constitutional Protections Of Free Expression,
Exploration, And Unmonitored Activity In Urban Spaces,” 2005, Fordham University School of
Law, 32 Fordham Urb. L.J. 677, lexis] //khirn
[*719] One might well describe the installation of cameras and biometric identification devices in similar terms: while such
changes have significant implications for urban anonymity, one might argue that they are design
changes rather than censorship laws. And if they deaden life in streets, parks, and other plazas, writers in the mold of
Jane Jacobs and William H. Whyte can tell citizens (and legislators) why this is the case instead of looking for courts to provide a
solution. But I believe this analogy stems from a misconception. In the first place, the city planning choices that Jacobs and White
scorn are not intended to deaden public space and silence its inhabitants. The sterility of public life that follows such design is in
many cases an unintended consequence. By contrast, emerging surveillance systems are often intended to roll
back some of the openness and anonymity that make freedom from government control possible
in public spaces (and unfortunately help shield criminals as well as others from ongoing state monitoring). Moreover, a
design change is not only a design change if it is clearly the functional equivalent of a law that
wrests away citizens' anonymity. The latter is a more profound threat to citizens' use of public
space, especially since it tends to arise not from discrete design choices in certain parks or
neighborhoods that might be counterbalanced with better decisions elsewhere, but rather from a
comprehensive municipal policy to intensify the surveillance of a city's public spaces. Consider, for example, the video
surveillance system now being planned for Chicago. This policy does not involve case-by-case
addition of cameras to a particular park or street corner, but rather placement of numerous
cameras throughout public space that will "make [Chicago residents] some of the most closely
observed in the world." n158 And this public video surveillance measure will be supplemented with a "Homeland Security"
fiber optic grid that is "1,000 miles long with cameras and biochemical sensors to watch for signs of terrorism, crime and traffic tieups." n159 One would misunderstand the proposed Chicago surveillance system by describing it merely as an inept design of public
urban space. It is a well thought-out plan to closely monitor space that has traditionally served as a key preserve of First Amendment
activity.
This does not mean that courts should invoke First Amendment anonymity protections to order
removal of all such surveillance [*720] systems. On the contrary, as I have argued in the Fourth Amendment context,
such technological advances in surveillance can offer great benefits to city-dwellers and others
who feel in need of greater protection against terrorism and other violent crime. They may even play an
admirable role (albeit a partial one) in remedying some of the blight and fear that, as Jacobs laments, has driven vibrant pedestrian
life away from sidewalks and neighborhood parks, particularly in poorer areas. Indeed, Jacobs herself notes that one of the keys to
keeping sidewalks safe, and thus attractive for pedestrians, is to assure that "public street spaces have eyes on them as continuously
as possible." n160 Jacobs was talking about the natural surveillance that comes with having numerous other pedestrians in the area,
but public cameras and biometric identification devices can provide more continuous watch, better ability to identify and apprehend
criminals, and more immediate contact with police officials who might intervene in criminal activity before harm is done (indeed,
many cameras feed directly into police monitoring stations). The supplementation of natural with artificial surveillance, however,
should not come at the expense of the other crucial benefits provided by the life of sidewalks and parks. In the first place, such
surveillance must not be designed in such a way that deprives people of the privacy they
generally find so crucial in city life. The presence of other pedestrians does not do this; for the reasons Jacobs explains,
even sharing the sidewalk with dense crowds of people does not entail sharing all of your life. On the contrary, while such temporary
contact is enriching and enjoyable, and helps everyone on sidewalks feel more secure that they will have nearby support in times of
danger, it does not give people a large window into one another's lives. If the new and powerful forms of artificial surveillance
destroy such public privacy, and drive neighbors and acquaintances toward the more complete revelation that is characteristic of
smaller, more closely monitored communities, then they will alter the character of public urban spaces.
The solution, as I have argued in the Fourth Amendment context, is not to bar local governments from making
use of cameras and identification technologies, but rather to ensure that they are designed to coexist with,
rather than displace, the anonymity and [*721] freedom that has long been an invaluable feature of
such spaces. To this end, courts, legislators, and others charged with upholding constitutional values can
require that public cameras, wherever possible, include design features or operate under institutional
rules that limit damage to individuals' anonymity as far as possible. n161 They might insist, for
example, on technologies that "scramble" faces in video images, unmasking them only when necessary for a
criminal or terrorism investigation, or for other tasks crucial for protecting public safety. n162 They might also insist that even
scrambled video recordings can only be watched by those law enforcement officials with a need to see them. Far from paving the way
for everyone to monitor everyone else, then, such technologies might transform criminal and terrorist investigations without
displacing the freedom from monitoring made possible by modern urban environments.
It is still likely that changes in city life will one day force city-dwellers to experience something
akin to the environmental shock experienced by the "The Prisoner" when he opened his apartment window
to find an unfamiliar world outside. n163 It is likely, for example, that the streets, parks, and buildings of
the future will look strikingly different than they do today. But that does not mean that the
constitutional values of that world should be as unfamiliar to modern-day writers as its physical
appearance. For the reasons I have described in this article, even if parks, streets, and other spaces in the urban environment
come to have a very different feel and appearance, existing principles of First Amendment jurisprudence
require that they continue to serve their long-standing function of providing
individuals with spaces that are well-suited to host a free and unconstrained
marketplace of ideas .
No link to terror --- plan maintains the possibility of police search and seizure
Blitz 13 [Marc Jonathan, Professor, Oklahoma City University School of Law, “The Fourth
Amendment Future of Public Surveillance: Remote Recording and Other Searches in Public
Space,” 63 Am. U.L. Rev. 21, American University Law Review, October, 2013, lexis] //khirn
A. The Objection that the Test Leaves Police Needing Greater Freedom To Investigate
This objection requires a brief examination of how Fourth Amendment reasonableness
standards apply to police investigative methods. Focusing on what kind of police activity the Fourth Amendment
covers is only the first step in the two-step inquiry courts must undertake to decide if police activity violates the Constitution. The
fact that the Constitution and its requirements cover a particular investigatory method does not
mean that the search violates the Constitution. Rather, a search is constitutionally impermissible
only when it is "unreasonable ." n221 So, even if GPS tracking or video surveillance in public
counts as a search, courts will allow such surveillance when it is reasonable. n222 Traditional
searches, such as home entries, are reasonable only if police first obtain a warrant based on probable cause. n223 This was also
what the Supreme Court assumed police would have to do if they wished to attach a GPS device to a car to track the driver's
movements, as they did in Jones. n224 However, obtaining a warrant will not always be practical. In fact, it
is
implausible to require camera operators to obtain a warrant each time they record citizens'
activities in public streets. Some existing camera systems collect data continuously and such warrantless operation of video
surveillance is often necessary to its effectiveness. Police cannot be expected to seek a warrant for video images the value of which is
apparent only after a crime has occurred, as was the [*69] case in the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing investigation and in the
earlier July 2005 investigation of the London subway bombings. n225
One possible response is to argue that this kind of video surveillance should not count as a search at all because, unlike the GPS
surveillance in Jones, it does not target any particular person. Instead, it routinely collects information from the streets in the event
that the camera's images reveal a crime, a threat to public safety or capture evidence later needed for a criminal investigation. n226
The problem with this objection is that it ignores the ways in which general collection of evidence can bring the state one step away
from a targeted investigation and undermine Fourth Amendment interests even before it reaches that targeting stage. Consider, for
example, a hypothetical police program which uses a thermal imager to collect heat measurements from all houses in a particular
region in the event that police, at a later time, decide to search the information for evidence of marijuana-growing heat lamps or
other evidence of criminal activity that might be found in the heat measurements. If, as the Supreme Court ruled in Kyllo, police
engage in a search when they point a thermal imaging device at a single house they suspect of housing marijuana, they must also
engage in a search when they point that device at many houses and lack any particular suspicion about the residents of those houses.
Even if they do not intend to examine the heat measurements they collect until some unspecified later date and are not sure what
they will find, they will still have crossed the line that, according to Kyllo, makes their investigatory activity a search. n227 Their
general search has collected evidence from the interior of a home that they could not otherwise have obtained except by entry into
the home. Likewise, if instead of attaching a GPS unit to a particular car as they did in Jones, police surreptitiously tacked such units
onto hundreds of cars parked in a city sidewalk to see (at some unspecified later time) if any of them moved in patterns
characteristic of a drug dealer or purchaser, it is hard to see why the [*70] general version of such an investigation would be any less
a search than the targeted variant that actually occurred in Jones. Indeed, some courts have argued that it was this type of general
surveillance that the Supreme Court in Knotts suggested would be especially problematic. n228 In Knotts, the Court stated that
while it was not a search to track a driver on public roads with use of a single beeper, it might be a search if police used such
technology to conduct "dragnet-type" surveillance involving "twenty-four hour surveillance of any citizen of this country." n229
Consequently, if video or other recording of remote activities is a search when it targets a particular individual, it should be just as
much a Fourth Amendment search when police record many individuals' activities and movement before (even long before) they
decide upon whom to focus.
That does not mean, however, that police absolutely need a warrant or individualized suspicion to record
activity in public space. n230 As Christopher Slobogin argued, courts analyzing video surveillance could
adapt certain aspects of their case law on roadblocks, where courts have relaxed warrant and individualized
suspicion requirements; in these circumstances, they nevertheless insisted that officials incorporate privacy protections into their
searches. n231 Likewise, as argued previously, if obtaining a warrant is impossible for police using ongoing
video surveillance, they might instead have to satisfy the kind of "constitutionally adequate
substitute for a warrant" n232 that the Supreme Court has sometimes demanded in certain school or workplace search
cases, or other situations where officials are using searches to meet a need beyond ordinary law enforcement purposes. n233 In
these cases, instead of [*71] requiring that police have individualized suspicion, the Supreme Court has required other, system-wide
These protections often emphasize (1) standardization, (2) unintrusiveness,
and (3) clear necessity given a serious security risk. n234 This ensures that officers have minimal
discretion in their searches and that the searches are brief, reveal little information, and can
often be avoided easily; given the obvious necessity, determination by a neutral magistrate
would be excessive under the circumstance. n235 While this Article does not explore how such "warrant
substitutes," which have typically applied outside of the criminal context, would apply to police use
of public surveillance to pursue law enforcement objectives, such an adaptation is possible.
Classifying video surveillance as a search does not mean that it will be an option only when police
already have the probable cause that they believe the video surveillance itself will
give them .
privacy protections.
counterplans
2ac multiple grounds perm
Perm – the court can rule on multiple grounds
Goldsmith, 4 (Mark, 17 Cap. Def. J. 221, lexis)
Raising a procedural issue at the habeas proceeding, Lenz argued that the circuit court erred in
refusing to treat affidavits filed by both petitioner and respondent as substantive evidence. n25
The petitioner asserted that because the court is permitted to read affidavits as evidence, it
should have done so. n26 However, because consideration of the affidavits fell within the circuit
court's discretion, the Supreme Court of Virginia reviewed the trial court's decision to disallow
the affidavits under an abuse of discretion standard. n27 The circuit court did not consider the
affidavits as substantive evidence for a number of reasons, [*224] "including that they had no
indicia of inherent credibility, were taken without benefit of a transcript, and were taken a
significant time after the events occurred." n28 Because the circuit court provided
multiple grounds for its decision, the Supreme Court of Virginia concluded that the circuit court
had not abused its discretion. n29
at: mootness
And, the defendant is still subject to civil liability – means it’s an exception and the
perm solves
Snider, ’92 (60 Geo. Wash. L. Rev. 1642 (1991-1992), “Vacatur Remedy for Cases Becoming Moot upon Appeal: In Search of a
Workable Solution for the Federal Courts”//CC
In Edgar v. MITE Corp.,28 the Supreme Court
articulated a third exception to the mootness doctrine that
applies when a litigant could be subject to civil liability or criminal conviction if the case were not
addressed on the merits.29 In Edgar, plaintiff MITE corpo- ration had made a tender offer to an Illinois corporation
without registering with the Illinois Secretary of State, as required by Illinois law.30 MITE successfully challenged the
constitutionality of the Illi- nois law in federal district court and secured a permanent injunction against the law’s enforcement.31
Subsequently, MITE withdrew its tender offer.32 The United States Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit
accepted the defendant’s appeal on the constitutionality of the Illinois law and affirmed the district
court’s holding that the Illi- nois law was unconstitutional.33 The court of appeals found that the
issue was not moot because reversal of the district court opinion could have subjected MITE to
civil and criminal liability.34 The Supreme Court agreed with the logic of the court of appeals, and affirmed.35
Hence, even if the original issues in an action become moot, when there is a possibility that the
parties could be subject to liability arising from the original issues, there is deemed to be a sufficient case or controversy to save the case from mootness.36
2ac civilian oversight cp
Civilian oversight fails
Callaghan 11 [Mark Brendan Callaghan, B.S., University of California, Davis, “CIVILIAN
OVERSIGHT OF LAW ENFORCEMENT,” THESIS for M.S. Critical Justice, 2011] //khirn
For the oversight agencies who occupy a position of review or audit , and do not have a great deal of
authority granted to them, it seemed they were used to provide political cover and/or a false symbol of
accountability for their police department. These oversight agencies, limited in power and scope
of responsibility, are used only as a token of transparency to the public by those in charge or by
the police department. The mere impression of having the oversight agency is enough to appease
the public and bolster the police department’s image of transparency. However these agencies have little
influence on their police departments. Therefore it is easy to question the cost-benefit of these agencies. If the public knew that their
tax dollars were being spent on an oversight agency that does not conduct its own complaint investigations, had no input on police
policies, and has limited effect on police actions would they believe the existence of that oversight agency was worth its cost?
Hopefully these oversight agencies are not simply a tool for those in higher political positions to advertise greater police
accountability in political campaigns. 107 This study corroborated the concept addressed by Walker and Bumphus (1991) that
there is no standardization for civilian oversight agencies. There are no preexisting
configurations for oversight agencies; there are numerous variations in structure,
responsibilities, resources, procedures, and other administrative matters (Walker, 2001). It could be
easily assumed that the four oversight agencies in this study would vary in specifics such as structure, authority, staffing, etc. What
None of the oversight agencies appeared to
desire standardization . The oversight agencies were focused on their own agency’s actions,
but a desire for standardization with other oversight agencies was absent. If the oversight agencies strove
for standardization it would engender greater credibility from its involved parties and mitigate political influence. This study
also found a deficiency in the oversight agencies evaluating their own performance . Two of
the three oversight agency administrators that were interviewed directly stated that they did not
have any measures to evaluate their performance. The third agency employee was uncertain of
how their oversight agency performance was evaluated beyond how many policy recommendations were
was surprising was the lack of desire for standardization.
accepted by the police department. How to measure the performance of civilian oversight agencies is a debated topic in scholarly
circles. The question how to evaluate performance has yet to be exclusively answered with many positing their own ideas with no
data to support their conclusions. This study highlighted the need for not only indentifying civilian
oversight performance measures, but also applying them. 108 None of the oversight agencies
stated they systematically used feedback mechanisms or measured the satisfaction
of the complaint process for involved parties, which are both suggested performance measures by scholar Samuel
Walker (2001). It appeared that complainant satisfaction with the complaint process is discarded as an ancillary ignored function of
the oversight agencies. Two of the three oversight agencies interviewed stated part of their goal was to
promptly, fairly, and impartially investigate citizen complaints, and the other oversight agency
stated its mission was to accept, monitor, and investigate complaints of misconduct. If the goals of
these agencies are fundamentally set on the manner in which they receive and investigate a complaint, why are the complainants,
the individuals who feel they have been wronged enough by their police departments to file a complaint, being neglected by the
oversight agencies?
Civilian oversight fails nearly everywhere it’s attempted --- makes circumvention
more likely
Clarke 6 [Stephen, “Arrested Oversight: A Comparative Analysis and Case Study of How
Civilian Oversight of the Police Should Function and How it Fails,” Fall, 2009, Columbia
Journal of Law and Social Problems, 43 Colum. J.L. & Soc. Probs. 1, lexis] //khirn
Many governments across America have attempted to employ civilian oversight of the police to reduce police misconduct. The term
" civilian
oversight " refers to governmental institutions that empower individuals who are not
sworn police officers to influence how police departments formulate policies and dispose of complaints against
police officers. n4 Civilian oversight bodies exist in roughly eighty percent of the large cities in
America, and approximately one-hundred different civilian-oversight bodies currently operate in
the United States. n5 The use of civilian oversight is limited neither to a particular region in
America nor to municipalities with particular demographic characteristics. n6
Civilian oversight has become commonplace because it satisfies a need in most American
jurisdictions. Local executive branch officials, local legislatures, criminal courts, and civil courts
generally do little to punish and deter routine acts of police misconduct or to reform problematic
police-department policies. n7 When scandals erupt, crises occur, and police misconduct obtains momentary political
salience, cities create civilian-oversight bodies to fill this oversight gap. n8 [*3]
The problem that most civilian-oversight bodies face is that, once they are created and the crisis
passes, governments tend to ignore their need for adequate resources , political
support, or amendments to their enabling legislation . n9 Similarly, activists once
committed to creating civilian-oversight bodies often fail to provide continued support n10 and turn
against established civilian-oversight agencies by criticizing them as inefficient and ineffective. n11 Such criticisms are
often well-founded because resistance from rank-and-file police officers, police-department
leaders, and police unions can cripple a civilian-oversight body. As a result, numerous civilianoversight bodies have failed and been dissolved, n12 while others have endured despite being
condemned as failures . n13
Previous studies of civilian oversight have failed to produce a framework for reforming unsuccessful
oversight bodies. Studies focused on the structure of civilian-oversight bodies have disregarded the
importance of local politics and the place of civilian oversight within a broader system of
accountability. n14 Studies regarding effectiveness of civilian oversight have not evaluated [*4] the
ability of civilian-oversight bodies to function despite limited resources and police department
resistance. n15
Civilian oversight will provide cover for police abuses
Clarke 6 [Stephen, “Arrested Oversight: A Comparative Analysis and Case Study of How
Civilian Oversight of the Police Should Function and How it Fails,” Fall, 2009, Columbia
Journal of Law and Social Problems, 43 Colum. J.L. & Soc. Probs. 1, lexis] //khirn
A. THE COMMON WEAKNESSES OF THE FOUR TYPES OF CIVILIAN-OVERSIGHT BODIES
Regardless of structure, almost
all civilian-oversight bodies lack the authority to directly discipline
officers and modify police department policies. n55 Most civilian oversight bodies may only
recommend discipline for individual officers and recommend changes in departmental policy.
n56 If an oversight body is unable or unwilling to exert pressure to ensure that its
recommendations are followed, it is likely to seek out ways to appease the police [*12] department it
oversees to secure its cooperation. n57 Such a strategy usually results in deference to police officers who
are the subjects of complaints and deference to the police department regarding matters of
departmental policy. Over time, this appeasement can undermine a civilian-oversight body n58 and
transform it into a "whitewash" mechanism that does more to conceal misconduct than
reveal it . n59 Although scholars debate what the best structure is for a civilian-oversight body, n60 every form can fail
when a police department refuses to cooperate with the oversight process.
B. CIVILIAN IN-HOUSE MODELS
There are two forms of civilian in-house oversight: (1) bottom-up, and (2) top-down. Both types have inherent flaws that make them
unlikely to succeed if employed as the sole form of civilian oversight within a municipality. These flaws also make civilian in-house
oversight difficult to incorporate into a system with multiple civilian-oversight bodies.
Bottom-up civilian in-house oversight entails hiring civilians to work for the internal-affairs unit of the police department and to
conduct the investigations that sworn officers within the internal affairs would normally handle. n61 This oversight model places a
civilian face on investigations, but it leaves decisions as to whether misconduct occurred in the hands of the senior police [*13]
officers who review investigations once they are complete. n62 During its first thirty-three years of existence, n63 Chicago's Office of
Professional Standards ("OPS") was an example of bottom-up civilian in-house oversight. It was structured as an independent
civilian-investigative unit under the control of the Police Superintendent, who retained the authority to decide whether to sustain an
allegation and impose discipline. n64
Bottom-up civilian in-house oversight is inherently weak because it is premised on the flawed
assumption that simply substituting civilians for sworn officers is enough to ensure strong
oversight. n65 Civilian employees of a police department will have a limited capacity to challenge
the sworn officers who employ them and to develop a uniquely "civilian" viewpoint regarding
police misconduct. They are likely to become "police buffs," highly supportive of the police officers'
points of view. n66 They will, therefore, be unable to ensure that oversight remains effective unless
the department is committed to it. At the same time, placing civilians in charge of investigations does little to promote
proactive policy review unless the department commits itself to aggregating information gleaned from complaint investigations.
Given these inherent weaknesses, it is unsurprising that Chicago's OPS was effectively abolished amidst scandal
in 2007 when it was revealed that the OPS and the police department had repeatedly ignored
hundreds of complaints regarding a group of officers who were [*14] subsequently
indicted for robbery and kidnapping . n67 Though OPS will remain a glaring example of the failure of one
model for civilian in-house oversight, the inherent defects in the model are strong enough to make it
unlikely that anybody modeled on the OPS could enjoy sustained success.
And if they don’t, police enmity will shut down any effective oversight
Clarke 6 [Stephen, “Arrested Oversight: A Comparative Analysis and Case Study of How
Civilian Oversight of the Police Should Function and How it Fails,” Fall, 2009, Columbia
Journal of Law and Social Problems, 43 Colum. J.L. & Soc. Probs. 1, lexis] //khirn
Nevertheless, the abolition
of many external-supervisory bodies has led many to conclude that
external-supervisory-civilian oversight is inherently weak n74 and deferential to the police n75
because it relies on data from internal investigations. This analysis of the weakness of external-supervisory
bodies is incomplete. An external supervisory body that simply reviews case files and does not directly
interact with citizens cannot build legitimacy through positive interactions that create the
appearance of procedural fairness. n76 Because there is a ninety percent chance that an external supervisory body will
agree with the outcome of the police [*16] department's internal investigation in any given case, it is unlikely that any
civilian-external-supervisory body will be able to establish its legitimacy by providing civilians
with favorable outcomes. n77 Therefore, civilian-external-supervisory bodies are likely to be
perceived as engaging in "cheerleading instead of true oversight ." n78
D. CIVILIAN EXTERNAL INVESTIGATIVE MODEL
The power to investigate allegations of misconduct and conduct proactive policy review creates the appearance that civilian-externalinvestigative bodies are a superior form of civilian oversight. n79 External-investigative bodies, unlike civilian in-house
bodies or external-supervisory bodies, have
the power to directly interview officers and civilians and to
obtain the documentary evidence needed to reach an informed, independent judgment
regarding the merits of a complaint. n80 By conducting investigations in a manner that makes them appear to be
procedurally fair, external-investigative bodies can establish their legitimacy n81 and bridge the credibility gap that a low
substantiation rate inevitably creates. n82
Nevertheless, having the power to investigate complaints does not automatically make external-
investigative agencies the most [*17] independent n83 or strongest n84 form of civilian oversight. Limited
resources can rapidly undermine the effectiveness of external-investigative agencies because
they need the staff, resources, and expertise to conduct investigations. The Office of Citizen Complaints
(OCC) in San Francisco was once praised as an effective external-investigative body, n85 but is now an example of how even a wellrun external-investigative agency can quickly start to fail. In 2007, the local press excoriated the agency n86 after an audit revealed
that it had failed to complete many investigations in a timely manner, and that the statute of
limitations on many complaints had expired before disciplinary action could be taken. n87 It was
also alleged that OCC investigators discouraged individuals from filing complaints due to
high caseloads. n88 Though other factors probably contributed to these failures, the agency's
lack of resources clearly caused it to function in ways that undermined the integrity of the
investigative process . n89
2ac congress cp
Congress fails --- no enforcement --- political incentives to condone circumvention
and police abuses
Clarke 6 [Stephen, “Arrested Oversight: A Comparative Analysis and Case Study of How
Civilian Oversight of the Police Should Function and How it Fails,” Fall, 2009, Columbia
Journal of Law and Social Problems, 43 Colum. J.L. & Soc. Probs. 1, lexis] //khirn
II.The Oversight Gap
A.EXECUTIVE BRANCH OVERSIGHT
Within local governments, one of the primary vehicles for executive branch oversight of the police is the prosecution of criminal
misconduct, but prosecutions only occur in rare, highly-publicized cases. n16 Many cases that should be prosecuted are, [*5] likely to
be dropped because the interests of local executives and prosecutors generally militate against aggressive prosecution. Crime
control is often a higher political priority than preventing police misconduct , n17 and police labor
unions are generally highly organized and politically savvy. n18 As a result, the interests of local executives are
often best served by "appeasing police preferences for internal control" and "avoiding embarrassing disclosures" regarding police
misconduct. n19 Prosecutors are most likely to pursue police misconduct cases when the police department refers them, which
permits police departments to frustrate accountability by serving as "initial screens to the prosecution of their own members." n20
While high-level political pressure may deter local executives from adopting policies favoring the prosecution of police misconduct,
police departments can frustrate prosecution in specific cases through a number of informal
mechanisms. When a case is referred for prosecution, a representative of the department can "strongly
disparage the case, saying that 'the witnesses cannot make up their minds' or simply point[] out all the weak spots in the case"
without "mentioning the strong ones." n21 Furthermore, prosecutors have little incentive to aggressively pursue
prosecutions of police misconduct because "irate rank and file officers can and often will find
effective means for retaliating against a [*6] prosecutor considered overly active in the area of
police misconduct." n22 Thus, taking a laissez-faire attitude toward most acts of police
misconduct generally serves the interests of officials at both the highest and lowest levels of
the executive branch.
B.LEGISLATIVE OVERSIGHT
Local legislators usually have
the same institutional incentives as local executives to avoid engaging
committees that are involved with the
operations of police departments are unlikely to launch investigations or hold hearings
regarding misconduct absent a major public scandal . n24 Even advocates of legislative
oversight of the police have acknowledged that its effectiveness is contingent on the "political
will to launch an investigation into police practices" and a "problem of sufficient gravity to
warrant the expenditure of time and resources." n25
in extensive and aggressive oversight activities. n23 As a result, legislative
Counterplan solves none of the aff – won’t be enforced on state and localities
Seybold 15 [Steven D. Seybold, J.D. Candidate at Texas, “Note: Somebody's Watching Me:
Civilian Oversight of Data-Collection Technologies,” March, 2015, Texas Law Review,
93 Tex. L. Rev. 1029, lexis] //khirn
2. Legislative and Executive Oversight. - Police
departments could also be regulated by legislative and
executive regulatory mechanisms, such as through legislation, blue-ribbon commissions, n107 and
Department of [*1043] Justice (DOJ) investigations. n108 However, statutory changes and commissions
are generally reactive mechanisms responding to existing misconduct and lacking the power to
enforce their own recommendations. n109 Similarly, the DOJ's limited resources and manpower
allows the department to only focus on some instances of police behavior, often the most
egregious or publicized incidents of systemic police department failures. n110
Those legislative and executive regulatory mechanisms often provide insufficient regulation of
data-collection technologies . While Congress has passed statutory protections limiting
certain types of data collection, those statutory protections often do not regulate state and local
governments nor include new forms of data-collection technologies. n111 Legislatures also face
stronger political pressure to be "tough on crime" than to protect privacy rights , especially when those
rights may be popularly associated with those prosecuted and labeled as criminals. n112 A politically salient
incident may spur legislative or executive actors to take oversight action, but the oversight
often wanes as a new, pressing crisis enters the public consciousness. n113 Similar issues arise
for executive regulatory mechanisms, since such mechanisms are directed towards addressing
perceived police officer and department misconduct, providing a poor framework by which to
regulate data-collection technologies in situations not clearly rising to the level of misconduct. And the DOJ may
not have the resources necessary to gather information on police departments that may be
misusing data-collection technologies . n114 Legislative and executive oversight thus only
provides limited oversight of police department usage of data-collection technologies when
those technologies are misused or abused by police departments.
They can’t solve any of the precedential advantage --- the impact is widespread
paranoia and social
Rushin 11 [Stephen, PhD student at the University of California, Berkeley, Jurisprudence and
Social Policy Program; J.D., University of California, Berkeley Law School, University of Illinois
Journal of Law, Technology & Policy, “The Judicial Response to Mass Police Surveillance,” 2011
U. Ill. J.L. Tech. & Pol'y 281, lexis] //khirn
The combination of video surveillance and facial recognition software presents another
compelling example of the digitally efficient investigative state . Some may argue that video
surveillance that does not compile an extensive digital record amounts to a reasonable substitute for traditional police observation.
n31 But when video surveillance is coupled with facial recognition software and used for wholesale
data retention, the technology transforms into an incredibly omnipresent investigative tool .
A vast majority of law enforcement agencies in the United States currently use
video surveillance . n32 According to a 2001 study done by the International Association of Chiefs of Police (IACP), over
80% of American police departments have already employed video surveillance. n33 That number has,
in all likelihood, increased since the survey, as half of the remaining departments indicated that they anticipated using video
surveillance in the near future. n34 But the types of video surveillance used by police departments can
vary
greatly from one jurisdiction to another. Some jurisdictions currently use rudimentary video surveillance
exclusively in a select number of high-crime public locations, while other jurisdictions have a well-developed
surveillance network capable of tracking suspects with surprising accuracy. n35 In Washington, D.C., for example, law
enforcement uses an advanced network of surveillance cameras linked together with hundreds
of government cameras already in use by various agencies in locations throughout the city. n36
Washington, D.C., in the wake of the September 11th terrorist attacks, was the first city in the United States to not only link together
an extensive network of cameras but also to create a system that digitally records all images for future reference. n37 As a result,
video surveillance is no longer a mere substitute for visual observation - as the cost of storing digital
information decreases, law
enforcement is capable of efficiently recording a detailed history of people's
movements over long periods of time.
Perhaps most disconcerting, departments across the country are now using facial recognition software
in conjunction with video surveillance. n38 The [*288] use of facial recognition, in conjunction with other public
databases like Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) picture catalogs, permit law enforcement to identify the individuals captured by
surveillance cameras. DMVs in many states already catalog the pictures taken for driver licenses and load these photographs into a
searchable database. n39 Thirty-seven states currently load driver's license photographs into state databases, which are searchable
using facial recognition software. n40 Facial recognition software has already been combined with video surveillance and used by
law enforcement to identify potential suspects amongst large crowds. n41 During the Super Bowl in 2001, FaceTrac technology was
used to digitally scan 128 points on the face of each fan entering Raymond James Stadium in Tampa, Florida. n42 This information
was then compared to Federal Bureau of Investigations databases. n43 In total, the technology was able to identify nineteen
suspected criminals. n44 Similar technology has been employed in major cities across the country including Boston, Tampa,
Providence, Kansas City, and Washington, D.C. n45
By themselves, video surveillance and facial recognition software do not appear particularly problematic. But when used in
combination, these technologies could have Orwellian implications. Like ALPR, the capabilities of
video surveillance with facial recognition can be divided between observational comparison and
indiscriminate data collection. If used merely for observational comparison, the video surveillance with facial recognition
would be reasonably tailored: law enforcement could compare the faces of passing pedestrians with the faces of known suspects on
criminal hotlists, thereby assisting law enforcement in locating suspected criminals for questioning or arrest. In such a situation, the
facial recognition software would only flag and retain information about individuals who match criminal databases. When using
merely an observational comparison utility, the collection of data would be limited to individuals
whose appearance so closely resembles a known criminal as to create reasonable, individualized
suspicion.
It is not inconceivable that in the future, a community could employ an extensive network of surveillance
cameras designed to indiscriminately accumulate data on individuals regardless of any
suspicious behavior. Each of these cameras could conceivably use facial recognition software and DMV databases to identify
the name of each passing individual. The digitally efficient state could then log the identity, time, and location of the person into an
extensive database, which could be searched for information in future police investigations. Such technology would undoubtedly be
enormously beneficial [*289] to law enforcement. Imagine if the police could someday identify the name and address of every
possible witness to a crime. Or, imagine if police could verify alibis of suspected criminal defendants through checking a
community's extensive video surveillance records. In such a digitally efficient state, law enforcement would
certainly be more effective and accurate, and (assuming actors behave honestly) the community would be safer. But
on a visceral level, the assemblage of extensive data on every person without any suspicion seems
to elicit serious suspicion - it implies distrust and treats every individual as a potential
criminal suspect at all times .
Doesn’t apply to state governments – normal means for the plan is the creation of
regulations, but the counterplan will lack enforcement potential
Rushin 11 [Stephen, PhD student at the University of California, Berkeley, Jurisprudence and
Social Policy Program; J.D., University of California, Berkeley Law School, University of Illinois
Journal of Law, Technology & Policy, “The Judicial Response to Mass Police Surveillance,” 2011
U. Ill. J.L. Tech. & Pol'y 281, lexis] //khirn
B. The Courts Are Better Positioned Than the Legislature to Regulate Police Technologies
The role of the judiciary in regulating technologies has been a point of contentious debate
amongst legal scholars. Kerr has argued that judicial policymaking in the field of developing technologies "tends to
incorporate outdated assumptions of technological practice, leading to rules that make little sense in the present or future." n349
According to Kerr, the judiciary lacks the necessary resources to effectively regulate technology, making the legislature a more
appropriate regulatory venue. n350 Several scholars, including Donald Dripps, have responded that legislatures are generally
unwilling to create privacy-protective policies because "voters identify themselves as the potential victims of crime rather than its
perpetrators." n351 According to Dripps, judicially crafted regulations governing police investigations are
a
legitimate and necessary protection of minority rights that does not usurp legislative
prerogative. n352 I take this opportunity to weigh in on this debate by arguing that in the field of police surveillance
technologies, the judiciary is the most institutionally competent actor to regulate police technologies
and serve as a valuable counter-majoritarian force. While the so-called "judicial information deficit" n353 should
deter the courts from micromanaging the use of law enforcement technology, it should not prevent the judiciary from implementing
a reasonably tailored response to mass surveillance.
First, the courts are structurally well positioned within our decentralized federal system to
address the national concern of mass surveillance. The courts are the most nonpartisan
actor capable of protecting the rights of the disadvantaged and politically unpopular. If the
courts defer to legislative arrangements, surveillance technologies will be regulated inconsistently across
jurisdictions. The digitally efficient investigative state is no longer a localized phenomenon, but
an increasingly national, centralized system. The judiciary is the most appropriate branch to
develop a national solution that would be applicable to all law enforcement - local,
state, and national . By grounding the judicial remedy in the Fourth Amendment ,
the judiciary can ensure that every person has a reasonably consistent expectation to privacy in
the aggregation and sharing of personal data across jurisdictional lines .
at: progressive constitutionalism
Judicial review is good – the CP destroys any chance at meaningful social change
in the future
Erwin Chemerinsky, Alston & Bird Professor of Law, Duke Law School, July 2004.
CALIFORNIA LAW REVIEW, p. 1023-1024.
Professor Kramer suggests that the Warren Court was an aberration and that defenders of
judicial review mistakenly assume that its protection of individual rights is typical of the
Supreme Court. 36 But one need not turn to the Warren Court to see how the Supreme Court
routinely protects individual rights through judicial review. Critics of judicial review
ignore the extent to which even the conservative Rehnquist Court has advanced individual
rights. In its most recent Term, the Court invalidated a state law prohibiting private consensual
homosexual activity 37; declared a death sentence unconstitutional for ineffective assistance of
counsel 38; held that the retroactive extension of a statute of limitations for sexual molestation
is an impermissible ex post facto law 39; and ruled that public colleges and universities may
engage in affirmative action and use race as one factor in admissions decisions to benefit
minorities. 40 No one would suggest that the Rehnquist Court is the reincarnation of the
Warren Court. Yet, even this Court, at times, has significantly advanced individual freedom. The
real risk of popular constitutionalism is that it will undermine judicial review in the long
term. How judicial review is discussed by scholars today will influence how it is practiced
tomorrow. Liberal criticism of the Lochner Court led to a Supreme Court that was highly
deferential to the government for at least a decade and a half after President Franklin Delano
Roosevelt appointed a solid Democratic majority. Conservative criticism of the Warren Court led
to the Burger and Rehnquist Courts as well as the originalist philosophy of judicial review, which
has real influence on today's Supreme Court. My fear is that popular constitutionalism will lead
future progressive judges to practice judicial restraint at the expense of enforcing the
Constitution to advance liberty and equality. Progressive constitutional scholars need to
focus on defending a vision of constitutional law that will advance equality and basic human
rights. We need to defend the courts' unique role in accomplishing this, rather than turning
against the judiciary.
at: judicial regulations bad
Courts on balance more likely to be enforced and shape the social fabric
Rushin 11 [Stephen, PhD student at the University of California, Berkeley, Jurisprudence and
Social Policy Program; J.D., University of California, Berkeley Law School, University of Illinois
Journal of Law, Technology & Policy, “The Judicial Response to Mass Police Surveillance,” 2011
U. Ill. J.L. Tech. & Pol'y 281, lexis] //khirn
The judiciary can and should play a fundamental role in protecting a normatively forceful
conception of privacy in all regards. Do we reasonably expect a person to assume the risk that, every time they enter a
public space, the state can monitor their every movement with ALPR? Do we reasonably expect a person to assume the risk that the
state will keep extensive, centralized data on their movements indefinitely? Or perhaps the more important question is should we
expect individuals to completely abandon all anonymity in public? I believe the clear, normative answer to these
questions is a resounding no, and the implications of the digitally efficient investigative state
only add weight to the claims previously made by Professor Solove and others.
Ultimately, this Article only scratches the surface of the broader social implications of the digitally efficient investigative state.
Questions remain about the relative criminological benefits of observational comparison as compared to wholesale data retention.
There is an increasing need for empirical research on the effects these emerging technologies have on individual behavior. And there
is a dearth of concrete data on the extent to which law enforcement use these technologies. I offer only a brief glimpse into this new
technological order, the relevant case law, and some general normative recommendations. This should only be the beginning of the
conversation about the sociological, psychological, criminological, and legal impacts of the increasingly efficient police surveillance.
[*328]
VI. Conclusion
Neither judicial responses nor "legislative rulemaking is ...a panacea." n376 Even if the judiciary successfully recognizes a remedy
similar to that discussed in this Article, the legislatures must play a critical role in developing more nuanced and specific enactments
to implement this constitutional floor. The potential harms of the digitally efficient investigative state are real. There is legitimate
concern that the broad and integrated use of these technologies can create a mass surveillance state. Central to this debate
is the proper role of the judiciary in regulating policy activity. Courts have previously relied upon
an often fragile dichotomy between technologies that merely improve police efficiency and those
that offer officers a new, extrasensory ability.
For the first time, the judiciary may be forced to limit the efficiency of law enforcement technologies.
Implicit in this action will be the recognition that sometimes improvements in efficiency can be,
quite simply, so efficient as to be unconstitutionally harmful. Unregulated efficiency can facilitate police
wrongdoing, discrimination, and calumniate political dissenters. Unregulated efficiency in policing technology undermines central
protections and tenants of a democratic state. The relationship between efficiency of criminal investigations
and privacy rights will be a new frontier for the courts in the coming decades. The courts should
forcefully, but prudently, protect against the unregulated efficiency of emerging investigative and surveillance
technologies. The judicial response offered in this Article would be but one more example of the courts
exercising their proper role as a limited but effective policymakers .
No judicial information deficit
Rushin 11 [Stephen, PhD student at the University of California, Berkeley, Jurisprudence and
Social Policy Program; J.D., University of California, Berkeley Law School, University of Illinois
Journal of Law, Technology & Policy, “The Judicial Response to Mass Police Surveillance,” 2011
U. Ill. J.L. Tech. & Pol'y 281, lexis] //khirn
Second, the so-called "judicial
information deficit" n360 should not deter the courts from creating
policy to address mass surveillance concerns. The proliferation and use of mass surveillance
technologies has stabilized to a point that judicial action would be appropriate. In arguing that the
judiciary lacks the skills and competence to create broad Fourth Amendment policy, skeptics have commonly levied three
arguments: (1) unlike the legislature, the courts lack the physical and administrative resources to craft a comprehensive policy; (2)
judges are not technologically sophisticated enough to create technology policy; and (3) once crafted, judicial technology policies
rarely hold up in different factual scenarios. n361 As I demonstrate below, the limited judicial response offered in this Article will
hold up against these three legitimate critiques.
To begin with, skeptics allege that legislations can more carefully analyze a problem, investigate potential
solutions, impanel experts, and make far-reaching, nuanced policies. n362 Unlike the legislature, which may
"command the resources of an extensive bureaucracy ... a judge is generally limited to a secretary and one or two recent law school ...
[graduate clerks]." n363 Kerr has thus argued that the courts simply do not have the resources to engage in this kind of careful
analysis necessary to develop a comprehensive and responsive policy on Fourth Amendment technologies. n364 On its face, this type
of analysis is persuasive, especially considering the fact that the courts lack the funding to do sweeping investigations into the
efficacy of an emerging technology. Nonetheless, this logic ignores a pivotal tactic used by courts in previous
iterations of successful policymaking - the adoption of standards already implemented
by other institutions. n365 Malcolm Feeley and Edward Rubin explained that when the courts attempted to
create extensive judicial policy [*325] regulating American prisons, judges turned to the American
Correctional Association and the Federal Bureau of Prisons. n366 Indeed, "Federal judges turned to these
standards because they wanted to impose detailed, administrative-style rules of any sort but
lacked the resources to design the rules themselves." n367 Unlike the prison reform context described by Feeley
and Rubin, where the courts created extensive and detailed policy, the judicial response I argue for in this Article does
not require extensive investigation or uniform implementation. I merely argue for a
judicially mandated floor , which establishes the minimum amount of regulation required
for surveillance technologies . Additionally, there is domestic and international precedent, most
notably in Maine, New Hampshire, Virginia, and Germany, that the courts could use as a model to craft a
broad solution. n368 Once the courts lay out a broad policy objective, police departments and local
legislatures would be incentivized to develop their own, individual policies to implement this
judicially mandated, regulatory floor . States would be free to develop more complex,
detailed, and even more stringent protections against data collection. Some states have already
done just that. n369 This pattern can be seen in other areas of criminal judicial
policymaking , such as Miranda requirements. The Court handed down broad general requirements - departments, in
implementing the Miranda decision, often went above and beyond the Court's minimal requirements.
Judges are at least smarter than legislators
Rushin 11 [Stephen, PhD student at the University of California, Berkeley, Jurisprudence and
Social Policy Program; J.D., University of California, Berkeley Law School, University of Illinois
Journal of Law, Technology & Policy, “The Judicial Response to Mass Police Surveillance,” 2011
U. Ill. J.L. Tech. & Pol'y 281, lexis] //khirn
Next, critics of judicial regulation of emerging technologies have argued that judges are not as technically sophisticated as the
legislature. Judges often "rely on the crutch of questionable metaphors to aid their comprehension" of complex technology cases,
meaning that "it is easy for judges to misunderstand the context of their decisions and their likely effect when technology is in flux."
n370 But in the unique situation outlined in this Article, judges do not need to be experts in these technological
fields to understand the capabilities of technologies like ALPR and facial recognition software. The danger I
discuss in this article is that police will keep a digital dossier of every single person's movements. This type of monitoring
would facilitate fishing expeditions, increase the likelihood of corrupt behavior by law
enforcement, and facilitate some types of racial profiling. There is little reason to believe that, with
the assistance of knowledgeable advocates, judges could not sufficiently understand the potential harms
posted by digitally efficient investigative technologies to develop a coherent constitutional floor
of protection. And even though the legislature has a broader array of resources at its disposal, the legislature is an
unsatisfactory avenue to protect the unique counter-majoritarian issues at stake.
Finally, some scholars have contended that judicial regulations of [*326] emerging technologies rarely hold up in different factual
scenarios. Under this rationale, critics of this judicial response may contend that while this protection could work when applied to
ALPR or facial recognition software, it would not necessarily be a workable standard for future technological developments. This
view certainly has merit. "By the time the courts decide how a technology should be regulated ... the factual record of the case may be
outdated, reflecting older technology rather than more recent developments." n371 Stuart Benjamin has argued that "rapidly
changing facts weaken the force of stare decisis by undermining the stability of precedents." n372 This provides a forceful case
against judicial micromanagement of emerging technologies. But the judicial response argued for in this Article is
sufficiently broad to avoid the predictable antiquation of other, narrower judicial solutions - it
merely distinguishes between observational comparison and indiscriminate data collection,
while broadly regulating the identification of data and interactions with private data
aggregators. The collection of extensive, indiscriminate surveillance data is a widespread,
pervasive occurrence common amongst countless investigative technologies. The development of digital
dossiers is not a trending fad that will simply disappear in the near future.
We should not expect the legislature to
step in and address a problem that may disproportionately affect unpopular minorities . The
Court has long recognized that when making policy in the field of emerging technologies, "the rule
we adopt must take account of more sophisticated systems that are already in use or in development." n373 The judicial
response presented does not prevent the use of surveillance technologies for observational
comparison, but merely offers a sufficiently broad and generalized constitutional limit on
indiscriminate data collection, which can be reasonably exported and applied to future, more sophisticated technologies.
Once more, critics of judicial policymaking seem tacitly concerned that the limited applicability of
judicial rules in the future will weaken the force of stare decisis, thereby undermining the judiciary's
legitimacy. But nothing could further de-legitimize the judiciary more than a failure to serve its
fundamental role as a protector against the tyranny of majoritarian preferences. The
courts are therefore the best-positioned actor within our decentralized federal system to protect against the threat
of extensive, indiscriminate data collection. Concerns about the judiciary's institutional
competence seem misplaced . And though the courts have limited resources, there is not enough convincing
evidence of a "judicial information deficit" n374 so as to overcome the judiciary's important role as protectors of discrete and insular
minorities.
2ac minimization cp
Solves none of the aff – circumvention
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
Even when video surveillance does seem necessary, courts
might insist on the sorts of minimization measures
described above to thwart the more Orwellian uses of video surveillance.513 Cameras that remain
focused on one place are unlikely to follow individuals as they move through public space,
creating a moment-by-moment record of their lives. Cameras that activate only in reaction to a reliable danger
signal are unlikely to capture people as they read, converse, or stare through a shop window. Such limitations do not
eliminate all cause for concern. Even a place-centered camera system might be quite intrusive if it
covers many public places, including spaces like a city's libraries or public squares, which constitute natural sites for individuals to
engage in spontaneous action or anonymously seek out alternatives to their existing way of life. If it is extensive enough, a set of
video records that is originally created to provide a record of events in particular sites can
provide the government with the raw material it needs to compile a record of many citizens'
movements and interests. And limiting camera systems to the taping of unlawful activity will
hardly be limiting them at all if such systems are activated to track even those minor deviations
from the law that are common and widespread. Individuals will hardly feel insulated
against regular government observation in a world where officials regularly cast a
"wide video net" for evidence of minor crimes, and thereby predictably haul in and review
numerous visual records of ordinary activity. Minimization criteria must therefore be applied in a way that gives
them force. While courts might, in an age of mass terrorism, accept the necessity of some systematic monitoring of public activities
by government, they might at least insist on a system that cuts as little as possible into individual
privacy and preserves for individual citizens a great, unmonitored realm of public space.
2ac lower courts
Supreme Court is key to setting precedent
Cross 07 Centennial Professor of Business Law at University of Texas, JD from Harvard
[Frank B., Decision making in the U.S. Courts of Appeals, p99-101, Google Books]
Technically speaking, a judicial decision resolves only a dispute between the particular litigating parties. Practically
speaking, the decision may have far greater societal importance because of its precedential impact. When the U.S.
Supreme Court decides that the broad prohibitions on abortion of a state law are unconstitutional, that decision
directly strikes down the particular state prohibition in the case before the Court but functionally invalidates a wide
range of additional laws in other states. Courts at all levels of the judiciary, including circuit courts, are to take the
Supreme Court’s ruling and apply it as governing law in future cases that challenge those other laws. They are to
examine the facts of those other laws, apply the Supreme Court’s reasoning, and thus determine if the other laws
pass constitutional muster. One type of precedential impact is vertical and hierarchical. When a higher court rules
on a legal issue, that ruling controls subsequent decisions of lower courts. If the U.S. Supreme Court declares a
particular statutory provision unconstitutional, that precedent prevents lower courts from legally applying and
enforcing the provision. Circuit court precedents may also have this hierarchical governing effect. When a circuit
court makes a ruling, such as declaring a statutory provision unconstitutional, that holding governs future rulings of
district courts located within the circuit because they are vertically subordinate to that circuit court (e.g., district
courts in Florida are governed by the eleventh circuit). District courts that are located outside the geographical
perimeters of the particular circuit court are not legally bound by its rulings, though they may still use them in
reaching a decision. Chapter 4 presented evidence that circuit courts were indeed bound by vertical precedent as
reflected in recent rulings of the Supreme Court. The issue of horizontal precedent is commonly raised because the
nation has a dozen circuit courts that have different geographic coverage. Such precedents are not binding. A
particular ruling by the fourth circuit court of appeals does not control a subsequent ruling on an identical issue by
the sixth circuit court of appeals. Because circuit courts are horizontal equals their decisions are not controlled by
precedents from sister circuits. Horizontal precedents may have a persuasive effect, however. Circuit courts may
give some deference to the reasoned judgment of other circuits. Circuit courts may be loathe to directly contradict a
decision from another circuit because doing so creates geographic disparities in the law. When the circuits disagree,
a uniform federal status may have completely different meanings in different states of the union, a consequence
generally to be avoided. But such disagreements, often called circuit splits, among the circuits are by no means
uncommon. If a circuit court believes that another circuit got a decision wrong, it will not defer but will issue a
contrasting ruling. Such a split may be resolved conclusively by the U.S. Supreme Court, with its vertical
precedential power over all the circuits, or may persist.
Lower courts and percolation cause delays and confusion
Tiberi 93 law degrees from Columbia University Law School and the University of Pittsburgh
[Todd J, "SUPREME COURT DENIALS OF CERTIORARI IN CONFLICTS CASES:
PERCOLATION OR PROCRASTINATION?" Spring, 54 U. Pitt. L. Rev. 861, University of
Pittsburgh Law Review, LexisNexis]
But percolation is not without its costs, or its critics. On a practical level, postponing definitive resolution of a
conflict sanctions the twin evils of uncertainty and inconsistency in the circuits. These conditions persist from the
time conflicting decisions are announced until, and if, the Court chooses to extinguish the conflict. n7 To no one's
surprise, fractured circuits invite more litigation into the busy federal courts by a cyclical dynamic: Greater
uncertainty breeds more litigation, more litigation breeds greater uncertainty.
Percolation creates disunity and threatens the role of federal law
Tiberi 93 law degrees from Columbia University Law School and the University of Pittsburgh
[Todd J, "SUPREME COURT DENIALS OF CERTIORARI IN CONFLICTS CASES:
PERCOLATION OR PROCRASTINATION?" Spring, 54 U. Pitt. L. Rev. 861, University of
Pittsburgh Law Review, LexisNexis]
Opponents of percolation, "nonpercolationists," allege that substantial tangible and intangible costs accrue for the
duration of the percolation process. The tangible costs are unnecessary litigation and foregone lawful behavior.
Intangible costs include, on an almost philosophical level, the diminished respect for federal law in the eyes of
citizens. These costs, the theory goes, are borne of uncertain and inconsistent application of the same federal law in
different circuits. They argue that for federal law to work effectively, it must be applied uniformly nationwide. n25
Because only the Supreme Court has the judicial [*867] power to declare national law, it should settle circuit
conflicts without delay. n26 At least two currently sitting Justices have publicly voiced their opposition to percolation.
Chief Justice Rehnquist has expressed his dismay at the concept by claiming percolation "makes very little sense in
the legal world in which we live." n27 According to the Chief Justice, it is generally more important that the Court
speak "definitively," rather than embark on a lengthy "scientific experiment" in search of a mythological "correct"
answer. n28 Likewise perceiving a practical need for uniform interpretation of federal law, Justice White explained
his thoughts on the serious harm in permitting conflicts to percolate: [D]enying review of decisions that conflict with
other decisions of Courts of Appeals . . . results in the federal law being enforced differently in different parts of the
country. What is a crime, an unfair labor practice or an unreasonable search and seizure in one place is not a crime,
unfair practice or illegal search in another jurisdiction. Or citizens in one circuit do not pay the same taxes that those
in other circuits must pay. It may be that occasionally it would be of use to leave a conflict unresolved in order to
await the views of other courts; but for the most part, the conflicts that we turn down are not in that category, and
they invite prompt resolution in this Court, which now is the only forum that can provide nationwide uniformity. n29
Professor Meador weighs in with similar criticism of what he claims is nationwide disuniformity in application of
federal law. Mocking percolation as merely a "euphemism for incoherence," n30 he warns [*868] that inconsistent
interpretation of federal statutes "threatens the rule of law as we have traditionally conceived it." n31 Expressing
similar contempt for delayed uniformity is Professor Baker. He dismisses as "nonsense" the notion advanced by
Estreicher and Sexton that even shortrun disuniformity may actually be beneficial. n32 Professor Baker argues that
uniform interpretation of federal law is the primary function of the circuit courts and Supreme Court, n33 and is the
reason that the Justices tolerated for decades the unenviable task of riding circuit. n34
2ac state courts
Supreme Court will roll it back
Fitzpatrick 4 (Robert K., J.D. – New York University School of Law, “State Constitutions as an
Independent Source of Individual Rights”, New York University Law Review, November, 79
N.Y.U.L. Rev. 1833, Lexis)
Some state law grounds, however, are not adequate to support a judgment. Under the
Supremacy Clause, the federal Constitution, statutes, and treaties, are the supreme law of the
land, and therefore trump state constitutions. 184 It is established, therefore, that states may
provide greater protections for individual liberties only "so long as there is no clash with federal
law." 185 Thus, if a state court rejects a claim of individual liberty under both the federal and
state constitutions, the Supreme Court would have jurisdiction to hear the appeal because a
reversal on the federal question would necessarily require reversal of the judgment. State
law rulings falling beneath the federal "floor" 186 are inadequate to support a judgment in our
federal system.
Doesn’t solve the signal
Mazzone 10 (Jason, Professor of Law – Brooklyn Law School, “When the Supreme Court is
Not Supreme”, Northwestern University Law Review, Summer, 104 Nw. U.L. Rev. 979, Lexis)
F. Below the Radar
Finally, many state court decisions in cases involving federal constitutional issues do not attract
sufficient attention to subject them to correction. State courts can obscure rulings in elaborate
factual determinations, by finding mixed questions of law and fact, or by providing multiple
reasons for the ultimate disposition of a case. Many state court decisions are not published or
otherwise reported, and state appellate court rulings may take the form of summary orders
that render scrutiny of the actual basis for the outcome difficult. 152 Even if the state court rules
incorrectly on a federal constitutional issue, the error might be deemed harmless and
therefore [*1007] overlooked. State courts have authority when their decisions lie below the
radar.
State government not perceived as credible negotiators
O’Toole 97 (Randal, Senior Fellow on Urban Growth, Public Land, and Transportation – Cato
Institute, “Should Congress Transfer Federal Lands to the States?” Cato Institute, Cato Policy
Analysis No. 276, http://www.cato.org/pubs/pas/pa-276.html)
When Republicans talk about federal land policy, the conversation inevitably turns to the
desirability of transferring most of those lands to the states. During the last Congress, legislation was
forwarded to do just that. Although the bill did not get far, the belief that states would do a better job of managing public lands is a
fixture in this nation's ongoing debate about the federal land estate. Examination of state land management
policies indicates that state governments are no better managers than are federal bureaucrats. They
are just as economically inefficient , ecologically short-sighted , and politically driven
as their federal counterparts. Moreover, the belief that states would be more inclined to privatize
public land is generally unsupported. In fact, state governments have been rapidly expanding--not
divesting--their land estates, and there is little reason to believe that (with the possible exception of a few states) federal
land transferred to their jurisdictions would be passed on to private citizens. The fundamental problem is, not federal incompetence,
but the political allocation of natural resources to favored constituencies, which subsidizes some at the expense of others and inflicts
harm on both the ecological system and the economy as a whole. Transferring land to the states will only change
the venue of those political manipulations.
topicality
at: surveillance = nonpublic information
We meet and counter-interpretation: --- video surveillance violates privacy even
while in public --- personal information you could reasonably try to conceal if you
weren’t surveilled by camera networks should be considered “nonpublic
information” for the purposes of surveillance
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
But while such constitutional limits on wide-scale video surveillance may seem intuitively reasonable and necessary,
contemporary Fourth Amendment jurisprudence is ill-equipped to provide or even delineate
them for at least two reasons. The first is that mass video surveillance occurs in the public realm -in
streets, parks, and highways-where courts have been reluctant to find that individuals have reasonable
expectations of privacy, at least in that information which they fail to conceal.37 Unlike random stops
and searches by government officials, extensive video surveillance does not dig beneath the visible
surface that people project to the world .
As a consequence, contemporary Fourth Amendment jurisprudence differentiates pervasive video surveillance from more familiar
mass suspicionless searches in one crucial respect: by holding that it is not a "search" at all.38 Fourth Amendment
"searches," according to the Supreme Court's current test, do not include all investigations of the sort an
English speaker might describe as a "search."39 As the Supreme Court emphasized in its landmark decision in Katz
v. United States, which still provides the key legal test for what counts as a "search," "what a person knowingly exposes to the public .
. . is not a subject of Fourth Amendment protection."40 Thus, even when police carefully scan a crowd with binoculars, in search of a
particular person, they are not engaging in a Fourth Amendment "search."41 Fourth Amendment interests are implicated only when
the government uncovers things that people conceal. Because the Fourth Amendment offers protection only
against suspicionless searches and seizures-and not against suspicionless examinations (no matter
how rigorous)-public camera networks would seem to be outside of the Fourth Amendment's ambit,
at least as long as their focus remains on public space and does not wander into private homes,
offices, or other enclosed areas.42
In the context of mass video surveillance, however, this is a strange result. Even a video archive that includes only a
person's movements through public settings would inevitably reveal much that he would rather
not share with an audience, let alone have incorporated into official records . A person usually
cannot enter a psychiatrist's office, marriage counseling center, or infertility clinic except from a public street. It is often in
public that people ask others out on a date, join a religious community, or seek resources in a
library for educating themselves about medical concerns or social dilemmas. Of course, even in these
deeply personal aspects of our public lives, there is at least a small chance we will be photographed or filmed by others nearby. But
such third parties are unlikely to know when we will be there or who we are, and they will usually go away with only a brief snapshot
of our lives. By contrast, a government agency armed with a comprehensive visual record of our public
activities would not have to guess when we might reveal personal information in
public, as it could probe our lives after the fact, and might quickly build a more complete
picture (for example, figuring out what specific medical or social problem led us to a certain source of help) by looking
elsewhere in its substantial database of the recorded images and other information that we leave
behind as we move through visually-surveilled public space.
Their interpretation limits out all affs --- all surveillance techniques entail the
collection of some public information, so the question determining topicality is
“does the surveillance device violate a reasonable expectation to privacy”?
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
But the battle against terrorism does not easily fit into the model created by courts to deal with the safety threats they addressed in
the latter decades of the twentieth century. The searches used by the government to address each of the
threats described above were brief and confined to a certain facet of life: weapon checks that take
place only at airports,58 periodic and limited housing inspections,59 and brief alcohol and drug
tests aimed exclusively at train operators or other employees whose jobs had potentially significant
implications for public safety.60 Unlike the threats such searches are meant to detect, the threat posed by
terrorism is designed to create, and often does create, a fear of sudden and devastating loss that is not
confined to a limited portion of our day-to-day existence, but instead permeates the whole of
public life.61 This widespread threat was made clear by the variety of settings and possible
scenarios that were the subject of terrorist warnings in the months after September 11, 2001. The government
warned that explosives might be used in malls, bridges, apartments, and trains;62 that scuba-diving terrorists might sabotage boats
or strike coastal areas;63 that attackers might use trucks or other vehicles as weapons on public roadways;64 and that they might
poison water supplies,65 target large holiday gatherings66 and national monuments,67 shoot down airplanes with missiles,68 or use
explosives, chemical weapons or radiological bombs to kill thousands in subways or town centers.69 The variety and
unpredictability of possible attacks, in method and location, has made some authorities despair
of countering them except by suspicionless surveillance techniques that stretch across
all of public life , and capture all manner of detail.70
But such a proposal is troubling because even if advanced surveillance technologies showed great promise in countering
terrorism,71 unconstrained and pervasive camera networks would protect the public sphere only
by changing its character . The use of such technologies might lessen anxiety about violence in public spaces, but it
would do so by undermining the forms of freedom that people traditionally seek (and find) in these
spaces.72 Generally, the Supreme Court has allowed generalized suspicionless surveillance only in
environments such as workplaces, schools, and high security zones, where people are already
subject to a substantial degree of oversight and constraint.73 Even in these situations, it has
imposed constitutional limits on the scope of such searches to ensure against abuses of
discretion.74 Individuals who have to be self-conscious in such controlled environments have been able to find a refuge in other
public settings-parks, streets, public squares-for freer and more spontaneous behavior, something they could hardly do if such
settings were under a scrutiny even more sustained and extensive than that the courts have allowed in highly-regulated
environments.75
This lack of fit between existing jurisprudence on the one hand and emerging threats to privacy and security on the other hand
requires a novel analysis of search and seizure protections. Even the significant constitutional thinking that courts
have engaged in to fit the Fourth Amendment to twentieth-century developments-new electronic
surveillance technologies and security threats distinctive to modern life-needs rethinking if
constitutional privacy protections are to work well in twenty-first century conditions. In particular,
courts have to think carefully about how to give Fourth Amendment protections greater force
in the public sphere .
Video surveillance undermines privacy
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
Faced with these dramatic alterations in the physical scaffolding for our individual liberties and rights of privacy, the response of
American courts has often been surprisingly nonchalant. Indeed, courts have sometimes acted as though these novel and farreaching technological developments are not really novel at all-but rather more effective and cost-efficient variants of long-accepted
methods of police work. Such an analogy of the new to the old is in fact a familiar part of the modern Fourth Amendment
jurisprudence and has often appeared in the Supreme Court's applications of the Katz test. Recording a conversation on audiotape, it
reasoned in United States v. White, is no more constitutionally problematic than remembering it and writing it down.141
Photographing a public scene with a powerful zoom lens, it said in Dow Chemical Co. v. United States, is no
more a breach of constitutional privacy rights than looking at the same scene with binoculars , or
for that matter with unaided vision.142 Finally, in United States v. Knotts, the Court found that tracking someone with the aid of a
hidden beeper is just a more efficient means of tailing him as he drives down a street.143
Such statements may seem strange in the wake of the Court's recognition in Katz that Fourth Amendment jurisprudence must take
adequate account of new technological developments. But they make perfect sense if one accepts the account of Katz
presented in Part I. Under this account, technological change acquires constitutional significance not
when it makes state monitoring of individuals considerably more extensive or intense but only
when it somehow pierces the walls of a house, a telephone booth, or some other
enclosed physical, virtual, or communicative space. Where expanding methods of surveillance
leave such recognized private zones untouched, courts applying the Katz framework tend to
declare them outside the scope of the Fourth Amendment. For example, in Dow Chemical Co., the Supreme
Court acknowledged that a sophisticated camera had revealed details of a company's physical plant that would otherwise have
remained invisible to government agents.144 But the Court insisted that the use of such magnification
technology did not cross the constitutionallysignificant boundary line one crosses when using
"[a]n electronic device to penetrate walls or windows."145
But a closer look at recent search and seizure decisions reveals the building blocks for an
alternative Fourth Amendment jurisprudence. In a number of cases, courts appear to recognize that, even when
official surveillance is focused only on public spaces, it can present a significant threat to core
liberty and privacy interests. The most obviously relevant caselaw for purposes of this Article is
the caselaw on video surveillance itself.146 But emerging video surveillance systems undermine
privacy not only by acquiring images, but also by magnifying details, tracking or reconstructing
people's movements, and identifying people by using facial recognition software. It is therefore useful
to look at how the law deals with all of these technologies of public surveillance and to understand how its treatment of such public
surveillance compares to its treatment of new detection technologies-like X-ray devices or thermal imagers-that do "penetrate walls
or windows."147
at: info collection for national security
We meet --- cameras are used to collect information for security purposes
Blitz 4 [Marc Jonathan, professor at Oklahoma City University School of Law, “Video
Surveillance and the Constitution of Public Space: Fitting the Fourth Amendment to a World
that Tracks Image and Identity,” Texas Law Review 82.6 (May 2004): 1349-1481, lexis] //khirn
When they do, they will find there is a second reason-apart from the "surface-bound" nature of such surveillance and its focus on
open places-that contemporary Fourth Amendment doctrine may fail to give force to the probable cause protections that Lewis
Padgett imagined would keep powerful video surveillance technology in check.48 The Fourth Amendment does not
bar all warrantless searches; it bars only those that are unreasonable.49 Even if public video
surveillance is a search under the Fourth Amendment, one might argue that it is nonetheless reasonable
even when left unconstrained by warrant and probable cause requirements. Such arguments
have been most likely to gain support when the crime the government investigators are working
to prevent is an act of terrorism.50 Many ordinary would-be criminals might be deterred from
theft or violent crime simply by the prospect that the police will be able to easily identify them
after the fact (although the evidence for the deterrent powers of existing surveillance systems is by no means clear).51 By
contrast, suicide bombers are much harder to detect and deter. They are often unintimidated by the
prospect of being identified in the aftermath of a bombing and are likely to have done all the
damage they want to do-in the form of massive loss of human life and massive damage to
individuals' sense of security-before police even begin their investigation. To fight terrorism
effectively, one might argue, authorities must closely scrutinize numerous people before they
have probable cause for focusing on one person or another, just as airports trying to prevent hijackings
examine all passengers and all luggage instead of trying to narrow their search for terrorists on the basis of insufficient
information.52
In the past, courts have recognized that the need to avoid such devastating loss of life demands
flexibility in interpreting search and seizure requirements and sometimes requires allowing
authorities to conduct searches without any "individualized suspicion" of wrongdoing.53 As Justice
O'Connor recently noted, courts have been more willing to dispense with individualized suspicion
requirements when "even one undetected instance of wrongdoing could have injurious
consequences for a great number of people."54 For example, "fires and epidemics [that] ravage large urban
areas,"55 train wrecks that cause "great human loss,"56 and plane hijackings that claim "hundreds of human lives"57 are less likely
to require these individualized requirements. The threat of terrorism seems to provide just as compelling of a
reason to lift warrant and probable cause requirements that might slow the use of public video
surveillance to gather (and track) leads needed to uncover and prevent planned terror attacks.
at: test case fiat bad
And, there’s always an appropriate test case—we don’t have to use sua sponte.
Pacelle, poli sci prof and legal studies coordinator at the univ of Missouri at St. Louis, 2k2
[Richard, The Role of the Supreme Court in American Politics: The Least Dangerous Branch?,
p122]
The passivity of the Supreme Court is an overrated limitation. Thousands of cases are on the
annual docket, and virtually every issue the justices might want to consider is available. The
justices have the ability to signal litigants to bring certain types of cases. There are a number of
so-called repeat players, long-term actors in the judicial process, who bring cases, respond to the
directives and cues in the Court’s decisions, and bring the next round of litigation (Galanter
1974). In addition, justices have been known to manipulate the issues in a case to make them
more amenable to the type of issues they seek to address. Justices can “add” issues to a case or
change the ones that are brought to them (Pacelle 1991, 32—33).
at: ground spec bad
C/I - the aff must specify the grounds they rule on in the plan text – this is how the
courts work
Department of Justice, 05 ("Rules of the Supreme Court of the United States", March 14th
2005, March 3rd 2010, http://www.supremecourtus.gov/ctrules/rulesofthecourt.pdf, TSK)
(e) A concise statement of the basis for jurisdiction in this Court, showing: (i) the date the judgment or
order sought to be reviewed was entered (and, if applicable, a statement that the petition is filed under this Court’s Rule 11); (ii) the
date of any order respecting rehearing, and the date and terms of any order granting an extension of time to file the petition for a
writ of certiorari; (iii) express reliance on Rule 12.5, when a crosspetition for a writ of certiorari is filed under that Rule, and the date
of docketing of the petition for a writ of certiorari in connection with which the cross-petition is filed; (iv) the statutory
provision believed to confer on this Court jurisdiction to review on a writ of certiorari the
judgment or order in question; and (v) if applicable, a statement that the notifications required by Rule 29.4(b) or (c)
have been made. (f) The constitutional provisions, treaties, statutes, ordinances, and regulations
involved in the case, set out verbatim with appropriate citation. If the provisions involved are lengthy, their
citation alone suffices at this point, and their pertinent text shall be set out in the appendix referred to in subparagraph 1(i). (g) A
concise statement of the case setting out the facts material to consideration of the questions
presented, and also containing the following: (i) If review of a state-court judgment is sought, specification of the
stage in the proceedings, both in the court of first instance and in the appellate courts, when the federal questions sought to be
reviewed were raised; the method or manner of raising them and the way in which they were passed on by those courts; and
pertiCLER$$ RULE 03-29-05 10:46:40 PGT•CTRULE 12 SUPREME COURT RULE 14 nent quotations of specific
portions of the record or summary thereof, with specific reference to the places in the record
where the matter appears (e. g., court opinion, ruling on exception, portion of court’s charge and
exception thereto, assignment of error), so as to show that the federal question was timely and
properly raised and that this Court has jurisdiction to review the judgment on a writ of certiorari. When
the portions of the record relied on under this subparagraph are voluminous, they shall be included in the appendix referred to in
subparagraph 1(i). (ii) If review of a judgment of a United States court of appeals is sought, the basis for federal jurisdiction in the
court of first instance. (h) A direct and concise argument amplifying the reasons relied on for allowance of the writ. See Rule 10. (i)
An appendix containing, in the order indicated: (i) the opinions, orders, findings of fact, and conclusions of law, whether written or
orally given and transcribed, entered in conjunction with the judgment sought to be reviewed; (ii) any other relevant opinions,
orders, findings of fact, and conclusions of law entered in the case by courts or administrative agencies, and, if reference thereto is
necessary to ascertain the grounds of the judgment, of those in companion cases (each document shall include
the caption showing the name of the issuing court or agency, the title and number of the case, and the date of entry)
Knowing the grounds of the decision is key to education specific to courts and
precedent. Desirability depends on grounds because grounds set the future
agenda- guts any educational policy analysis you won't know the resulting policy if
you vote aff
Gerhardt, 05- Professor of Law at North Carolina Law School, J.D. from Chicago University,
M.S. from London's School of Economics and Political Science, B.A. from Yale (Michael, "The
Limited Path Dependency of Precedent", 7th Edition of University of Pennsylvania Journal Law
Journal 903, September 2005, March 3rd 2010, Lexis, TSK)
Another important function of precedent is framing the Court's agenda. Precedent does so in at least two
ways. The first is to frame the Justices' choices of which constitutional matters not to hear. The Justices' respect for precedent is
perhaps most evident in these choices. While the Justices' decisions to deny certiorari are considered not
to
have any formal legal significance, refusals to hear cases may nevertheless be significant for
providing insights into the Justices' [*972] priorities. n267 The Court's refusal since 1939 to grant
certiorari in a case involving a Second Amendment n268 issue might discourage litigation to
enforce the Second Amendment, n269 though as litigation over its scope percolates in the lower courts, pressure
undoubtedly increases on the Court to hear a Second Amendment claim. n270 Until the Court agrees to hear a Second Amendment
claim, its silence is bound to provoke speculation; perhaps the Court wants the matter to percolate for a while
longer in the lower courts, perhaps many if not most Justices wish to avoid the question for as long as possible, and maybe
some Justices prefer to deal with other constitutional issues relating to gun control before ever getting to the Second Amendment.
The Court's prior decisions also frame its choices of which matters to hear. Patterns or trends in
the Court's certiorari decisions reveal its agenda. They may also reveal the areas of
constitutional law that the Justices might be interested in trying to clarify or in which they may
be disposed to reconsider certain precedents. For instance, from 1994 to the present, federalism has been the area
in which the Rehnquist Court has granted the most petitions for certiorari. n271 This trend contrasts sharply with the Rehnquist
Court's first eight years during which it granted certiorari most frequently in cases involving social issues, such as abortion and
school prayer. n272 In setting its agenda, the Court inevitably signals its certiorari patterns to
litigants, lower courts, and other authorities. It also may encourage [*973] further litigation in
some areas, particularly when its opinions are vaguely worded, narrowly reasoned, and undertheorized. It may sometimes strongly discourage further litigation, at least before it rules on the
same or similar questions, as was plainly the case with Nixon v. United States in which the Court
unanimously declared challenges to removal proceedings in the Senate are nonjusticiable. n273
Overruling a case creates a new law, it's impossible to predict the effect of the
precedent without establishing what grounds the decision is based on
Dunn, 03- J.D. from Yale Law School, Former Editor for Yale Law Journal, Barry S. Cohen
Prize Winner for Best paper in law and literature (Pintop, “How Judges Overrule: Speech Act
Theory and the Doctrine of Stare Decisis", November 2003, March 3rd 2010, 113 Yale Law
Journal 493, TSK)
After all, Justices create new law when they overrule a case. Although the common law may be analogous to
the written law by providing judges with an external source on which to rely, the common and written law are far from the same.
The common law is composed entirely of itself; every decision joins the body of judicial
decisions of the common law and must itself be followed.n64 In this way, stare decisis is a doctrine that is not
only backward-looking, but also forward-looking; it dictates that a decision must be made in conformity with the
decisions that came before it, but it also commands that all future decisions be made in
conformity with the present one. n65 Thus, when judges overrule a previous decision, they do more
than disagree with that decision - they substitute the old law for the new one that has just been
created. n66
Grounds are key to determine how precedents are established – not establishing
the justification for the decision crushes future courts to interpret the decision
and undermines legal authority. The justification is more important than the
decision itself
Wu, 02- Professor of Law at Howard University (Frank, “Profiling in the Wake of September 11:
The Precedent of Japanese American Internment", Criminal Justice Magazine, 2002, March 3rd
2010, http://www.abanet.org/crimjust/cjmag/17-2/japanese.html, TSK)
that context, the conclusion that the internment was wrong is not enough. The reasons it was
wrong must be articulated again. As lawyers well know, the rationale may be as important as the result
by itself in comprehending the meaning of legal authority. What is constitutional is not
necessarily advisable. Technically, for all the contempt directed at the Supreme Court’s
internment cases, it is worth noting that the decisions have never been repudiated and actually
have been followed consistently. Indeed, Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist penned a book a few years ago intimating
In
that if a similar matter were to come before the Court again he would not expect it do otherwise. (William H. Rehnquist, All the Laws
But One: Civil Liberties in Wartime (Knopf 1998).) Imagining the counterfactual hypothetical of a Supreme
Court that struck down the internment, then, also entails supplying an intellectual foundation.
There are multiple possibilities. They lead to different outcomes in today’s circumstances. If the
internment was wrong because racial classifications are to be regarded as immoral or
unconstitutional as an absolute rule, then there is no distinction to be made between Japanese
Americans on the one hand and Arab Americans or Muslim Americans on the other hand. The
form of the argument does not vary by specific groups. If the internment was wrong because the
particular racial generalization was in the aggregate false, then it may well be possible and
appropriate to distinguish between the Japanese Americans and Arab Americans or Muslim
Americans. The premise is that the conduct of Japanese Americans on the whole does not
predict the conduct of Arab Americans or Muslim Americans on the whole. There are more
possibilities. If the internment was wrong because of the lack of any semblance of due process,
then even the German Americans and Italian Americans in isolated cases had their rights
violated. Individual Arabs and Muslims who are aliens may be entitled to more due process than
equal protection.
at: courts not usfg
Counter-interpretation --- courts make law
Meese 86 (Edwin III, Distinguished Fellow in Public Policy and Chair of the Center for Legal
and Judicial Studies – Heritage Foundation, “The Tulane Speech: What I Meant”, Washington
Post, 11-13, Lexis)
The burden of The Post's editiorial concerned what I believe about the force of Supreme Court decisions.
Does a ruling have general applicability beyond the case itself? May public officials and private citizens choose to ignore them at
will? Putting the worst construction on what I did not say, The Post wondered whether the speech might be "an invitation to
constitutional chaos and an expression of contempt for the federal judiciary and the rule of law." I believe it is important not only to
put these concerns to rest but also to emphasize again the point of the speech -- that our Constitution is the supreme or paramount
law of the land. Supreme Court decisions do, of course, have general applicability. In addition to
binding the parties in the case at hand, a decision is binding precedent on lower federal courts as
well as state courts. Further, such decisions, as Lincoln once said, are "entitled to very high respect and consideration in all
parallel cases" by the other departments of government, both federal [*1004] and state. Arguments from prudence, the need for
stability in the law, and respect for the judiciary will and should persuade officials of these other institutions to abide by a decision of
the Court. It would be highly irresponsible for them not to conform their behavior to precedent. I quite agree with The Post that, for
example, the general principle laid down in Brown v. Board of Education 1 governed not only Kansas, whence the case arose, but also
all other states that had segregated schools. Or to use an example of a decision with which I do not agree, Roe v. Wade 2 struck down
Texas abortion law, but also contained a principle that officials in other states were obliged to apply. Constitutional decisions by
the Court are not "the supreme law of the land" in the sense that the Constitution is. But they are law, as I said at Tulane, and
they are the law of the land in the sense that they do indeed have general applicability and deserve the greatest respect from all
Americans.
at: gotta defend all 3 branches
“The” doesn’t mean all 3
American Heritage Dictionary 2000
The – 1. Used before singular or plural nouns and phrases that denote particularly, specified
persons or things; the baby; the dress I wore.
“Federal government” actions refer to individual actions by specific agencies
Words and Phrases, 2004 (Cummulative Supplementary Pamphlet, v. 16A, p. 42)
Action against the Postal Service, although an independent establishment of the executive
branch of the federal government, is an action against the “Federal Government” for purposes of rule that
N.D.Ga. 1986.
plaintiff in action against government has right to jury trial only where right is one of terms of government’s consent to be sued;
declining to follow Algernon Blair Industrial Contractors, Inc. v. Tennessee Valley Authority, 552 F.Supp. 972 (M.D.Ala.). 39
U.S.C.A. 201; U.S.C.A. Const.Amend. 7.—Griffin v. U.S. Postal Service, 635 F.Supp. 190.—Jury 12(1.2).
kritiks
at: foucault
Modern surveillance is placeless and faceless—it creates uncertainty
rather than trust, masking the internal operations of the surveillance
state
Koskela 2 senior lecturer in the Department of Geography, University of Helsinki,finland
(Hille, Urban Geography, “Video Surveillance, Gender, and the Safety of Public Urban Space:
"Peeping Tom" Goes High Tech?” 2002, p. 266 – 9,
http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/pdf/10.2747/0272-3638.23.3.257)
Placeless and Faceless Surveillance Increased visibility is perhaps the most crucial factor in surveillance. However, it has been noted that the
public is not necessarily aware that they are being watched (Hillier, 1996; Lyon, 1994). Sometimes the cameras are
hidden; sometimes the public just does not notice them. However, even if the cameras are seen, the public may still not be aware of the location of the
monitoring rooms. The watchers themselves remain hidden. This is apparent in shopping malls, which are of particular interest in relation to
surveillance. The
“semipublic” spaces of the malls, where surveillance has become espe- VIDEO SURVEILLANCE, GENDER, AND
an essentially contradictory space—“space suggesting an openness
that is in fact carefully exclusive” (Marcuse, 1997, p. 107). Surveillance is easy to use to exclude groups, which are marginal in
SAFETY 267 cially common, have become
relation to the purpose of the mall (Crawford, 1992; Shields, 1989; Judd, 1995). The increasing monitoring of city streets reflects the development in
semipublic spaces. In Britain one manifested reason for city authorities installing video surveillance systems in city centers has been an effort to match
the level of safety which the shopping malls and out-of-town business parks have been able to offer (Fyfe and Bannister, 1998; also Brown, 1995; Fyfe et
al., 1998). Shopping malls have in this sense become icons for urban space. Consequently ,
the purification and homogenization
processes and the “erosion of public space” will increasingly spread from malls and shopping
centers to open publicly owned urban space. In Edinburgh my motive for conducting the interviews in a shopping mall was to
analyze answers on where and how women perceived surveillance being conducted, while the interviews took place almost literally under a surveillance
camera. Some women had noticed cameras in the mall or elsewhere in their daily environments while others had not. Also women’s conceptions of the
identity of the persons behind the camera and where they are located varied depending on each particular context. Even if they had seen the cameras
they had no information on the identity or location of the persons behind the camera. Interviewer: Would you know who is there watching behind the
camera? Jill: Do I know? No. I assume it would be authorities that would be watching. I hope so, anyway. Lorraine: That’s another question. No, not
usually, but, maybe some independent body, or maybe the police are watching.fiona: I’m not sure who’s watching, no. Interviewer: Would you know
where they are?fiona: Um, probably in an office somewhere, I don’t know. From
the location of the camera it is impossible
to infer the location of the persons behind the camera. There is hardly ever a direct contact
between the security personnel and the public. Under a surveillance camera one does not know whether there is anybody
looking, and if there is someone, who they are or how far away they are. Even the vertical perception is blurred: one does not know whether the
overseers are above or below. Surveillance
cameras have been conceptualized as being “literally above” (Fyfe
survey from “above the crowd,” “up there.” But quite often the case is actually not this simple.
The camera is placed on a high position and seems to be looking at people from above but the
monitoring room may be for example in the basement of a shopping mall where the premises are cheaper
and Bannister, 1998), they
(Koskela, 1995). Furthermore, not only can the monitoring room be on another floor of a building; it is possible to have monitoring conducted in a
different country. Infinland, for example, there is a temptation to hire guards from Estonia where labor costs are much lower. In 268 HILLE KOSKELA
theory, the observation of the streets of Helsinki could very well take place in Tallinn. Hence,
with contemporary technical
abilities, video surveillance is placeless. This makes it difficult to ask for help through the agency of the camera when help is
needed. Therefore, this kind of ostensibly innocent politics of locations is of great importance. The context of the interviews in Helsinki was somewhat
different from those in Edinburgh since there are commonly used metro stations where surveillance cameras are most visible and security guards also
patrol by foot. Thus, most women knew that the guards also take care of the monitoring and commonly associated surveillance cameras with them.
However, even when they knew who was watching they did not feel that they could contact them. In the metro stations the windows through which the
guards look at the public are either dark or mirror-like. It is not self-evident that people know what is behind these nontransparent windows, and even
if they do it is impossible to see whether there is someone inside or not. Interviewer: What do you think about surveillance cameras? There has been
some discussion in the media lately, but what about you yourself? Have you paid attention to the cameras in your everyday life? Kristiina: I don’t know.
I wonder how do they work in practice. In the metro stations the situation is quite strange. There are the security rooms, where the guards are, and this
glass-wall through which I can’t see, and then there are the cameras. The guards could be looking at the monitors even if I was being mugged right there
just one meter away on the platform. To people under surveillance the forces of vigilance are the potential helpers who should intervene if they are
attacked. In the contemporary urban architecture, forms
are transparent from one side and opaque from the other
and have became what Steven Flusty (1994) called “stealthy” and “jittery” space. Although the purpose of surveillance is
supposed to be to increase safety, this design produces uncertainty instead, leaving the public passive and
unable to be subjects of their own being. It is clear that one’s attitude toward surveillance depends on
perceptions of the trustworthiness of the persons behind the camera. The women who knew who
was watching often expressed suspicion toward security guards hired by private companies. In a
discussion on how to ask for help through a surveillance camera, the interviewees pointed out that, not only the camera feels
anonymous but, also, if there is a person behind it, it is not clear that this person is reliable. Riikka: I
don’t know but I don’t really trust these private security services. I think they [the guards] are very arbitrary and I have somehow an awfully bad image
of them.
Compared to social control created by the presence of other people, control
accomplished with surveillance is not only placeless but also faceless. As much as ensuring security, the
practices of surveillance are disrupting social control. One crucial problem in video surveillance is definitely its facelessness. What supports
the faceless image is “the politics of naming.” Infinland the police— which is the only institution that legally has to inform the
public about surveillance—VIDEO SURVEILLANCE, GENDER, AND SAFETY 269 the expression “technical surveillance”
(tekninen valvonta) which does not reveal what the practice exactly is. The media has gradually
started to use the term “safety camera” (turvakamera) instead of the term “surveillance camera”
(valvontakamera) previously used. In Britain the abbreviation CCTV (closed circuit television) is commonly used. This expression echoes a
technological jargon related to surveillance which is more naturally used by the experts behind a surveillance camera than the citizens walking under
the camera. There is also a great deal of variation in the degree of concealment of surveillance activities. The politics of veiling or unveiling surveillance
varies from concealed “postage stamp sized spy cameras” to clear announcement signs and cameras placed on visible sites. The
hidden
agenda of surveillance seems to be that the public should know as little as possible about how
and by whom they are monitored. Unverifiability as an Emotional Experience The emotional experience of being
watched by a surveillance camera is different from that of being watched by a person directly. On an
emotional level, the attitudes on surveillance are anything but straightforward. The variety of feelings surveillance evokes are enormous: the
objects watched can feel guilty without reason, embarrassed or uneasy, irritated or angry,
fearful; also safe (Koskela, 1999). On the one hand surveillance cameras increase security but on the other hand they produce
mistrust. Surveillance is ambivalent: it appears to evoke simultaneous positive and negative feelings. After a discussion on fear of violence, the question
of how to improve safety was pointed at surveillance cameras: Interviewer: What do you think about surveillance cameras? Downloaded by [] at 13:22
05 July 2015 270 HILLE KOSKELA Petra (Helsinki): I think they are good and I don’tfind them as invading my privacy. But I also don’t think they
increase security. Even if there is a camera somewhere, I feel no safer at all. Maria (Helsinki): Maybe they increase security. I wouldn’t condemn them.
But still I feel like “Big Brother” is watching if there’s a camera. Nadja (Helsinki): It is a two-edged sword. On one hand it is good that the cameras are
there but on the other hand when something happens it doesn’t help at all at the moment. Unverifiability
is a crucial dimension
for maintaining power. Not all the cameras are placed so they can be seen and even if one sees the cameras it is impossible to infer whether
there is somebody looking at that particular moment or not. Just as in the panoptic prison, “the inmate must never
know whether he is being looked at at any moment; but he must be sure that he may always be
so.” (Foucault, 1977, p. 201). “While watching is only sporadic, the threat of being watched never ceases”
(Hannah, 1997b, p. 347). The very notion that “you never know” is one of the most important reasons for mistrust: Interviewer: How do you personally
feel being surveilled? Diane (Edinburgh): Probably safer. As long as someone is at the other end watching it (laugh). That’s what you’d wanna know,
wouldn’t you? Viivi (Helsinki): Somehow I feel safer if there’s a camera. But on the other hand you can’t always be sure that someone is looking,
because there are lots of “dark” cameras. It would be nice if they had a red light on, or if they moved or something. Surveillance is about “regulation of
bodily and other visible activities” (Hannah, 1997a, p. 171). According
to the conventional Foucauldian
conceptualization of surveillance, the bodies under surveillance do not need to be regulated
since they regulate themselves. They are “docile bodies” (Foucault, 1977). The camera works as a
reminder of possible scrutiny, as a “deterrent” (Oc and Tiesdell, 1997). This perhaps ensures
discipline but it simultaneously erodes confidence.
Surveillance can’t detect sexual harassment nor protect women from it, ironically
surveillance protects those who use it as a form of fetishizing women
Monahan Ph.D. 2009 (Torin Monahan, Department of Human development at Vanderbilt University
Monahan is a director of the international Surveillance Studies Network and an associate editor of the leading
academic journal on surveillance, Surveillance & Society. Ph.D. in Science and Technology studies, Dreams of
Control at a Distance, Critical Studies d Critical Methodologies Volume: 9 Issue: 2, April 2009, pages 288-289, Yung
Jung)
Inquiry into context or use discrimination focuses attention on discrimination that is engendered by existing social contexts and/or
institutional relations. Surveillance technologies fit neatly within this frame. Because almost all control room operators of
video surveillance are men who are removed from the spaces they are monitoring, they tend to use the
technologies in voyeuristic and particularistic ways. As Hille Koskela (2000, 2002) argued, this effectively
masculinizes the spaces under observation because (a) video surveillance occurs in traditionally
feminine spaces (e.g., of shopping, public transportation, etc.); (b) it serves as a hidden form of
sexual harassment; and (c) unlike the physical presence of security personnel, video surveillance
operators fail to detect or document verbal forms of sexual harassment that may be occurring in
those spaces. When social contexts are already marked by sexist relations, then surveillance (and other) technologies tend to
amplify those tensions and inequalities. Lorraine Bayard de Volo (2003) wrote, for example, about the uses of surveillance to control
the appearance and behavior of cocktail waitresses in casinos. The intention is to position waitresses as objects of desire for
customers, by way of their dress and doting upon gamblers, and to keep them subordinate to the male bartenders and manage
ment.2 Waitresses do resist, but cautiously and intelligently, otherwise bartenders will slow waitresses’ orders down and their tips
will suffer. R. Danielle Egan (2004) found a similar pattern with the use of surveillance in strip clubs to enforce control by male
managers over female strippers, making certain that they do not cheat the system by taking unreported tips (usually for performing
sexual acts). Finally, Jennifer Wesely and Emily Gaardner (2004) explained how the construction of women
as vulnerable in public places such as outdoor recreational parks compels them to begrudgingly
accept surveillance in exchange for the alleged promise of increased safety. It should be noted that
feminist scholars have fruitfully investigated many other technologies for their context or use discrimination encodings. Leslie
Weisman (1992) argued that architecture and planning tend to codify sex inequalities in a “spatial caste
system” of disconnected, sex-inscribed territories (e.g., home vs. office), leading to less value placed on
work done by women and unequal mobilities between the sexes. In this vein, Ruth Schwartz Cowan (1983)
and Judy Wajcman (1991) convincingly deconstructed myths of domestic technologies and public utility infrastructures,
respectively, as clear symbols of progress. They find that although housework labor for women is not reduced, in part because of
rising expectations for cleanliness, capitalist and patriarchal relations are reproduced by means of demarcating public and private
spheres according to their respective gendered commodities. In a remarkable study of the development of the microwave oven,
Cynthia Cockburn and Susan Ormrod (1993) revealed how unequal gender relations allow for the de-skilling of cooking and the
blaming of women for microwave mishaps, whereas simultaneously affording a space for male, high-tech expertise in the
traditionally feminine domain of the kitchen. Studies of context and use discrimination highlight the valence toward unequal power
relations with the introduction of new technologies. Because technologies are underdetermined, meaning that they take on values
from the context of their use, existing conditions of inequality inflect technologies and technological systems, reproducing unequal
social orders (Monahan, 2005). This conclusion, however, does not discount in any way the many efforts of active appropriation by
women (and men) to minimize the discriminatory effects of technologies in social contexts (Bray, 1997; Markens, Browner, &
Preloran, 2003; Ong, 1991).
Surveillance technology is methodically biased towards white male elites, women
are disproportionately affected by the Panopticon
Monahan Ph.D. 2009 (Torin Monahan, Department of Human development at Vanderbilt University
Monahan is a director of the international Surveillance Studies Network and an associate editor of the leading
academic journal on surveillance, Surveillance & Society. Ph.D. in Science and Technology studies, Dreams of
Control at a Distance, Critical Studies d Critical Methodologies Volume: 9 Issue: 2, April 2009, pages 288-289, Yung
Jung)
Discrimination by abstraction is probably the most controversial reading of technology and gender. By this concept, I mean the ways
that technological systems, especially those that produce representations of data, strip away
social context, leaving a disembodied and highly abstract depiction of the world and of what
matters in it. The act of filtering out bodies and social contexts facilitates a kind of control at a
distance that is the hallmark of modern surveillance systems (Dubbeld, 2003; Woodward, 2003). In the
process of producing abstract representations that can be monitored and controlled, however,
social inequalities and experiences tend to drop out of the equation. Bodies become data. At the
same time, although social contexts are abstracted away, inequalities are solidified and aggravated by means of
their lack of representational presence. If inequalities, gender based or otherwise, are not
represented in data, then it is difficult to address them, but that does not mean that they are not
present. Dreams of disembodied, sterile, and heroic control at a distance have deep roots in
Western technoscience. Carolyn Merchant (1980) argued that the machine metaphor employed to describe the ordering of
self, society, and cosmos during the scientific revolution led to a mechanized worldview that encouraged the exploitation of the
natural world and, by relation, women. Mary Terrall (1995) added that in the 18th century science was further masculinized, through
heroic expeditions, having the outcome of ensuring that women could only participate by being audience members. Finally, Londa
Schiebinger (1989) observed that by the 19th century, gendered representations of science had dropped out altogether, leaving a
supposedly pure and apolitical method of inquiry and knowledge accumulation. Given this historical process of the simultaneous
subjection of nature and women, on one hand, and the erasure of gender in representations of science and technology, on the other,
it is not surprising that scientific techniques, instruments, and methods of knowing would appear neutral today. To assert
technoscience is value laden, political, and gendered masculine (Haraway,
1989, 1991, 1997)—rubs against the grain of centuries of institutional and cultural assertions to the contrary. Surveillance
technologies operate in this tradition. They still privilege sight, the primary sense of scientific inquiry, whether for the
otherwise—that
watching of people or for the monitoring and manipulation of databases. Michel Foucault (1977) famously introduced the specter of
Betham’s panopticon, or all-seeing prison, as a metaphor for how bodies could be disciplined and controlled throughout societies by
means of the internalization of disciplinary structures. The rationalization and potential control of people and
their activities becomes even more powerful, however, as information and communication
systems become ubiquitous. Instead of everyone being subjected equally to the disciplinary gaze,
we are now witnessing advanced “social sorting” made possible by electronic
surveillance in all its forms (Gandy, 1993; Lyon, 2003). The case made by this article is that the methods of
abstraction on which new surveillance systems are predicated are those in the spirit of the scientific revolution—the Enlightenment
rationality of masculine control at a distance.
The liberal state goes hand-in-hand with neoliberalist structures—it employs
urban surveillance to produce safe spaces for business and trade while excluding
those who reject consumerism
Coleman and Sim 2k lecturer of Sociology, Social Policy and Criminology at the University of
Liverpool and professor at the Centre for the Study of Crime, Criminalisation & Social Exclusion
at John Moore’s University (Roy and Joe, British Journal of Sociology, “‘You’ll never walk
alone’: CCTV surveillance, order and neo-liberal rule in Liverpool city centre” p. 635 – 6, Dec.
2000,
http://s3.amazonaws.com/academia.edu.documents/30499596/youll_never_walk_alone_200
0.pdf?AWSAccessKeyId=AKIAJ56TQJRTWSMTNPEA&Expires=1436486448&Signature=0VH
OkBpG9a%2FtsgCGqOvrzTWkpUM%3D&response-content-disposition=inline) | js
Some have argued that surveillance technologies and electronic com- munications can be understood not simply as
instruments of state surveillance but rather as technologies of freedom (Barry 1996: 138). Within this discourse CCTV
cameras can be understood as helping to create public spaces for ‘free’, ‘responsible’, consumer-oriented
individuals who inde- pendently choose their autonomous role in the life of the city. Thus CCTV is constructed
around the idea of ‘empowerment’ and ‘freedom’, particularly the ‘freedom and safety to shop’
(Home Office 1994: 9). Central to these processes is the desire to promote consumer confidence and
participation in the city centre. This in turn is built on ver y specific ideas about the legitimate use of the city centre and
the moral order which underpins it. Thus one interviewee has described the camera system as a people’s system . . . it is very
important that we get over the feeling they are in a safe city and that hopefully generates and sustains the pedestrian • ow of traffic .
. . people feel happy to come and shop on a family basis. It affects everybody where there is criminal activity in town centres.
(Research Interview, emphasis added) The deployment of such discursive representations pertaining to the uses
of the city centre form part of a larger orchestration concerned to construct a consensualized ideal of a benign
authoritative power over territory. In Liverpool, co-ordinating agencies such as the Government Office under- pinned
by ‘advanced liberal strategies of rule’ have brought together police, developers, regeneration managers, businesses and elected
officials. However, in scrutinizing the work of these networks it is import- ant to critically analyse their role
in
securing legitimacy and consent from the wider populace – in ‘convincing local peoples as to the
benevolence of entrepreneurial strategies’ (Hall and Hubbard 1996: 162). Included here are an abundance of ‘place
marketing’ strategies through local and national media that seek to promote generalized images of ‘crime’ whilst at the same time
promising a ‘safer city for all’ and thereby, and in conjunction with the other processes we have mentioned, serve to promote
particular interests in city centre regeneration. Partnership in Liverpool has realigned agencies of governance and put to the fore
issues of leadership and strategic direction. ‘Partnership’ involves constructing alliances that contribute towards ‘the focusing of
minds’, the ‘negotiation of sensible terms of reference’ and the ‘commitment of resources to agreed packages’ (Research Interview).
These processes are re-drawing notions of the public and private interest. The attempts to build a ‘collective will’ are not without
their contradictions but neither do such strategies involve a collective ‘free for all’ where every opinion carries equal weight in the
construction of the consensus around the ‘proper’ use of city spaces. As one interviewee pointed out One of the biggest problems has
been around consultation in Liverpool You’ll never walk alone 635 and the transparency of the process itself. The temptation is when
you are setting something up you go and talk to somebody who you know will respond to your need. You take the easy way around.
(Research Inter- view) As we have indicated the local media play a crucial role in the regeneration process as a whole and in its
representation of Liverpool regarding issues around crime, safety and policing. As well as supporting and sponsoring local
regeneration projects the local press in particular has been involved in the re-negotiation of protocols with Merseyside
regarding policing in the city and levels of crime. One interviewee described these negotiations as ‘about building
Police
trust with the
media’ after a series of ‘damaging articles for Liverpool’. These stories were basically along the lines of ‘crime is out of
hand and the police are unable to cope with it’. At the end of the day it is as much in the interest of the Echo’s Editor as it is in the
interest of Merseyside Police that we repopulate, have prosperity and vibrancy. I mean he’ll sell more news- papers if there are more
people living here, working and with money to spend. (Research Interview) While forging an alliance between key players in the
locality has not been unproblematic in reality this alliance has been central to the construction of a
consensual world-view and the powerful definitions of the ‘public interest’ and the ‘collective
will’ that underpin it. The process of coalition- building has therefore increasingly endeavoured to link the notions
of ‘good business practice’ with the proactive management of crime and its incidence. Thus the security
network is not simply to be understood as a mechanism of crime prevention technology but as an important
alliance of inter- ests that have emerged in the gaps left by a series of legitimation deficits around policing and in
urban governance generally. The security network works at constructing a consensus through
generating images and cat- egories of dangerousness which target the economically
marginalized, the homeless and petty thieves as groups who consistently appear ‘unable to learn the lesson
that neo-liberalism now expects of its subjects’ (Pratt 1997: 181). It is therefore in the regenerated city
with its not so subtle lessons for proper conduct in public space – its re-emphasis on spectacle,
consumption and ‘leisure’ – that neo-liberal governance has successfully sustained economic
polarization as well as assumed a greater role in managing its ‘fall out’ through the deployment
of authoritative categories that define the unreconstituted other.
at: capitalism
Anti-capitalist movements fail to recognize feminism as a key part of the
antiglobalization movement and hold the movement as transcendent of the
feminist struggle – key texts prove.
Eschle 5 (Catherine Eschle, BSc, MSc, DPhil British political scientist, feminist and academic Senior Lecturer in the Department of Government, University of
Strathclyde Education: BSc, University of Bristol; MSc, University of London; DPhil, University of Sussex Career: Catherine Eschle is Senior Lecturer in the Department of
Government at the University of Strathclyde and Director of Undergraduate Studies: First Year. Her research and teaching interests lie at the intersections of feminist theory,
international relations theory, globalization, theories of social movements and social change. She is currently working on an ESRC funded research project with Bice Maiguashca
of the University of Exeter entitled ‘Making Feminist Sense of “the Anti-Globalisation Movement”’ and teaching classes in international relations and feminism. She is co-editor
of International Feminist Journal of Politics. Publications include: Global Democracy, Social Movements and Feminism 2001, Critical Theories, International Relations and ‘the
Anti-Globalisation Movement’ (co-editor) 2005; several book chapters, book reviews and articles in professional journals. “’Skeleton Women’: Feminism and the
Antiglobalization Movement”, Signs, Vol. 30, No. 3, Spring 2005, p. 1741-1769. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/426793.) ZB
Where are the feminists? Exclusions in authoritative movement texts I begin by looking for the
presence of feminism and feminists in books about the antiglobalization movement. This is to
follow Milliken’s first type of discourse analysis—the study of a system of signification through a
focus “upon a set of texts by . . . authorized speakers/writers of a dominant discourse” (Milliken
1999, 233). My selection of authoritative texts must be acknowledged as partial and situated.
Published in 2000-2001 in the wake of Seattle, they are explicitly concerned with delineating
what was at the time an emergent movement. They are often written by prominent activists
within that movement, in English.1 Klein’s highly influential No Logo (2001) investigates
resistances to corporate influence and “branding,” including culture jamming; campaigns
against Nike, Shell, and McDonalds; and campus and city attempts to instigate consumer
boycotts against sweatshop-produced brands. No Logo is in many ways informed by a feminist
consciousness. It is also explicitly critical of what Klein sees as a feminist preoccupation with a
politics of identity in the 1980s (2001, chap. 5), and antiglobalization activism is positioned as a
move toward a more materialist politics. Alexander Cockburn, Jeffrey St. Clair, and Allan
Sektfla’s description of “the new movement” evident at Seattle traces connections among the
Ruckus Society, Earth First!, groups campaigning for economic justice, movements of Third
World solidarity, anti-North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) organizing, and a “new
student activism” around sweatshop labor (2000, 2-3). The authors declare “the new
movement” to be “less sexist” than older movements “and rich in ethnic diversity” (2000, 4),
though they do not develop this claim in the rest of the text. Kevin Danaher and Roger Burbach
trace the outlines of a “global democracy movement” encompassing trade unions, the corporate
accountability movement, “citizen empowerment” groups, and efforts to bridge the concerns of
environmental groups and social justice struggles (2000, 9-10). Their section on “dealing with
diversity” has nothing on women or feminists. Although ecofeminists Starhawk and Vandana
Shiva contribute to the collection, they do not write with an explicitly feminist voice. One
contributor, Deborah James, acknowledges in a final chapter on the democratization of the
global economy the need to tackle gender inequalities (James 2000, 206-7). Amory Starr’s
(2000) survey clusters groups into three main strands. She titles these “contestation and
reform” (including groups ranging from peace and human-rights organizations to cyberpunks);
“globalization from below” (including labor and the Zapatistas); and “delinking, relocalization,
sovereignty” (anarchists, small business activists, and religious nationalists). Starr does not
include feminist organizations in any of the strands, though she makes fleeting acknowledgment
of a gender dimension to the analysis produced by some groups such as the Zapatistas. In a
compendium titled Anti-capitalism: A Guide to the Movement (Bircham and Charlton 2001),
Susan George lists “workers and unions, small farmers and their organizations, consumers,
environmentalists, students, women, the unemployed, indigenous people, religious believers”
(George 2001, 21). The book has a section on “Actors” that includes chapters on unions,
students, anarchists, and socialists, and a directory of groups ranging from the ATTAC
(Association for the Taxation of Financial Transactions for the Aid of Citizens) to the Zapatistas
(Bircham and Charlton 2001, 269-336). Unusually, the book echoes George’s inclusion of
women by dedicating a chapter to them in the “Issues” section (Egan and Robidoux 2001).
However, the only women’s group included in the directory is the Lesbian Avengers, who
marched topless in the streets in Seattle. So what are the commonalities in these depictions of
antiglobalization resistances? First, the following surface repeatedly: the Zapatistas, militant
environmentalists, consumer-rights and anticonsumerism groups, labor, social justice
organizations (including debt relief campaigners), and North American students campaigning
on sweatshop labor. Second, the acknowledgment of diversity in the movement leads to a
preoccupation with the need for “coalitions.” However, there is marked lack of attention to the
processes by which such coalitions could be constructed and sustained. Further, some coalitions
are seen as more desirable than others, with much emphasis on building links between
environmentalists and labor. None of the above texts is concerned with making alliances
between “their” movement and women’s groups and/or feminists. This brings me to the third
feature of these texts: there is occasional, but usually limited, recognition of the participation of
women. Some analyses draw attention to, or involve interviews with, women as well as men
activists (Coates 2001). However, gender is not commented on or presented as relevant to
motivations or styles of activism. The chapter dedicated to women in Emma Bircham and John
Charlton’s (2001) anticapitalist compendium is in the section on issues rather than the one on
actors. This is despite the fact that the chapter authors emphasize that “women have been in the
streets and organising at every level of the movement from Seattle to Prague to Porto Alegre to
Quebec City” (Egan and Robidoux 2001, 81). Some wider acknowledgment is made of the high
profile of women “leaders”—Shiva, George, Klein, Arundhati Roy— and this is perhaps one
reason why Cockburn, St. Clair, and Sekula claim this movement to be “less sexist” than its
predecessors. However, a welcome for women leaders is not in itself evidence of a wider feminist
sensibility or a guarantee of feminist leadership. It is also surely not accidental that the only
women’s group that receives particular mention in several accounts is the Lesbian Avengers. It is
difficult to judge whether this should be seen as successful participation by the Avengers and
other queer activists in a new politics of spectacle or as a worrying remnant of an older politics
of the left in which women activists are either sexualized or marginalized. Alternatively, could it
be that women are rarely active in this new movement in specifically women’s groups, in which
the fact that members are women is a key organizing element? Feminist writings on activism
against globalization dispute this, drawing attention to the extensive participation of individual
women and women’s groups at all levels in ways that draw on or challenge gender identities and
roles (e.g.. Miles 2000; Rowbotham and Linkogle 2001; Naples and Desai 2002). This brings me
to the fourth and final feature of the texts discussed above: the fact that explicitly feminist
contributions are rarely included. This is despite the fact that several of the acknowledged
women “leaders” are known in other contexts as feminists. Klein is an interesting partial exception
here. Her work is clearly influenced by a background in feminist activism. No Logo (2001) stands
out for the extent of its awareness of the gendered impact of globalized economic processes, and
Klein acknowledges some feminist impetus behind “anti-logo” and anticonsumption activism.
However, as I indicate above, the book also contains a critique of feminist “identity politics” on
U.S. campuses, and it positions the antiglobalization movement as a whole as a move away from
such politics. Significantly, Klein has returned to this argument in a recent interview because of
what she perceives as its misuse by activists. She has criticized those who see feminism as
irrelevant to antiglobalization struggles and has drawn attention to a more materialist strand of
feminism that should be incorporated (in Thomas 2002). I will return to this move below. It is
worth noting here that the interview appeared in a feminist journal rather than in an
antiglobalization movement handbook. On the whole, feminists and feminism are rarely
found in the authoritative movement texts examined above. These texts occasionally
acknowledge the role of women and the need for an antisexist movement, but they do so only
fleetingly and superficially, and there is no concern for building coalitions with feminism. Worse
than that, they fail to recognize feminism as an integral presence within the antiglobalization
movement and even position the movement as transcendent of feminism. This has the effect of
actively excluding feminism from antiglobalization politics.2
Feminism’s focus on materialism has always existed, if not
always in the mainstream. Feminists are mainly concerned with
how gendered identities structure women’s resistances to
globalization.
Eschle 5 (Catherine Eschle, BSc, MSc, DPhil British political scientist, feminist and academic Senior Lecturer in the Department of Government, University of
Strathclyde Education: BSc, University of Bristol; MSc, University of London; DPhil, University of Sussex Career: Catherine Eschle is Senior Lecturer in the Department of
Government at the University of Strathclyde and Director of Undergraduate Studies: First Year. Her research and teaching interests lie at the intersections of feminist theory,
international relations theory, globalization, theories of social movements and social change. She is currently working on an ESRC funded research project with Bice Maiguashca
of the University of Exeter entitled ‘Making Feminist Sense of “the Anti-Globalisation Movement”’ and teaching classes in international relations and feminism. She is co-editor
of International Feminist Journal of Politics. Publications include: Global Democracy, Social Movements and Feminism 2001, Critical Theories, International Relations and ‘the
Anti-Globalisation Movement’ (co-editor) 2005; several book chapters, book reviews and articles in professional journals. “’Skeleton Women’: Feminism and the
Antiglobalization Movement”, Signs, Vol. 30, No. 3, Spring 2005, p. 1741-1769. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/426793.) ZB
Needless to say, these discourses of feminism are partial, contradictory, and contested. It is
significant that Klein, as noted above, has modified her earlier depiction of feminism in terms of
identity politics to point to the coexistence of a more materialist discourse. She claims that
identity politics were “an aberration from the history of the feminist movement and an
aberration within the global feminist movement, which never stopped focusing on economics.
It’s not that people stopped making the arguments—they were—it’s just that they weren’t being
heard within the more privileged mainstream of feminist discourse” (in Thomas 2002, 49-50).
Klein’s move is usefiil in reminding antiglobalization activists of the long-term existence of more
materialist versions of feminism, but her analysis remains somewhat oversimplified. A concern
with identity is not incompatible with a concern with economic inequality; further, there are
different “mainstreams” of feminism depending on the location of the observer. I would argue
that the focus on identity highlighted by Klein occurred simultaneously with the intensification
of transnational feminist organizing during and after the UN Decade for Women, in which black
and third-world feminist arguments about the inequalities of global capitalism became
increasingly influential. This fed into an explosion of feminist theorizing and practice around
“development” and subsequently into the recent wave of feminist critiques focusing explicitly on
globalization, as highlighted above (Eschle 2004b, 99-104). It should be recalled that such
critiques insist on the intersections of economic hierarchies with gendered, racial, and cultural
forms of power. They remain centrally concerned with how gendered identities are constituted
and with how these identities structure women’s resistances to, or complicity in, globalization.
Many feminist analysts also foreground the impact of globalization on feminism itself, grappling
with the implications of globalized inequalities and solidarities among women, tracing the
complex relationship among struggles in different localities, and challenging hierarchies
between local groups and transnational federations (e.g., Sperling, Ferree, and Risman 2001;
Naples and Desai 2002). Strictly speaking, this is an intersectional rather than reductively
materialist discourse of what feminism is concerned with and how it operates. But the upshot is
that feminism is represented as centrally concerned with the many dimensions of globalization
and the ways in which they shape feminism itself.
We need a more inclusive understanding of the antiglobalization
movement, integrating and recognizing feminism, for these
movements to be effective.
Eschle 5 (Catherine Eschle, BSc, MSc, DPhil British political scientist, feminist and academic Senior Lecturer in the Department of Government, University of
Strathclyde Education: BSc, University of Bristol; MSc, University of London; DPhil, University of Sussex Career: Catherine Eschle is Senior Lecturer in the Department of
Government at the University of Strathclyde and Director of Undergraduate Studies: First Year. Her research and teaching interests lie at the intersections of feminist theory,
international relations theory, globalization, theories of social movements and social change. She is currently working on an ESRC funded research project with Bice Maiguashca
of the University of Exeter entitled ‘Making Feminist Sense of “the Anti-Globalisation Movement”’ and teaching classes in international relations and feminism. She is co-editor
of International Feminist Journal of Politics. Publications include: Global Democracy, Social Movements and Feminism 2001, Critical Theories, International Relations and ‘the
Anti-Globalisation Movement’ (co-editor) 2005; several book chapters, book reviews and articles in professional journals. “’Skeleton Women’: Feminism and the
Antiglobalization Movement”, Signs, Vol. 30, No. 3, Spring 2005, p. 1741-1769. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/426793.) ZB
These reductive analyses of (anti)globalization do not go uncontested. See, for example, the
long-established pluralist approach to globalization in academia, which focuses on the interplay
of economics, state power, and cultural formations (e.g., Held and McGrew 2000). A more
critical discourse is also emerging—one that recognizes the devastating impact of capitalism
without privileging it as universally determining—through an insistence on the need to analyze
the intersections of capitalism with racial and gendered hierarchies. Evident in Gramscian and
anarchist approaches (Peoples’ Global Action 1998; Rupert 2000), this “intersectional”
discourse is most developed in feminist accounts (Eschle 2001, 128-30, 204-6; 2004a, 116-19).
Black and third-world feminist scholarship has long stressed that multiple forms of power
intersect in different ways in different localities, requiring context-specific contestation.5 These
ideas have been further elaborated in a recent wave of feminist literature focusing specifically on
globalization.6 Thus, for example, Kimberley Chang and L. H. M. Ling (2000) argue that
globalized high-tech capitalism is underpinned by sexualized, racialized, and national
hierarchies, as manifested in the large-scale migration of Filipinas to fulfill domestic service
roles. They examine the multiple, ambiguous strategies that Filipinas deploy to cope with their
positioning. Sharon Ann Navarro’s (2002) study of the women’s organization La Mujer Obrera
demonstrates that its opposition to NAFTA is motivated by a profound awareness of the
interconnections between economic liberalization and gendered inequality. Its efforts to resist
draw heavily on, but also face obstacles within, Mexican culture. In effect, feminist
intersectional analyses of globalization open up space for the recognition of the multiple axes of
oppression and identity that structure and motivate but also limit mobilization. They point to
a more inclusive understanding of the antiglobalization movement as taking
different forms in different contexts and as needing to integrate a feminist sensibility if it is to
be effective and emancipatory.
Women need to organize political action on the basis of an understanding the
connections between patriarchy and capitalism. Cross-class struggle is the
best way to solve.
Eisenstein, 79 (Zillah Eisenstein is both a pioneer and one of the most renowned authors in the developing of Social Feminism. She has been working at Ithaca
college for around 40 years, and also has become a regular writer for Al Jazeera. “Capitalist Patriarchy and the Case for Socialist Feminism”, 1978/1979 (depending on your
source), Essay: “Developing a Theory of Capitalist Patriarchy and Socialist Feminism”, subsection: “Synthesis: Social Feminism”.) ZB
Some Notes on Strategy What does all of the preceding imply about a strategy for revolution?
First, the existing conceptions of a potentially revolutionary proletariat are inadequate for the
goals of socialist feminism. Second, there are serious questions whether the potential defined in
classical Marxist terms would ever become real in the United States. And, although I think the
development of theory and strategy should be interrelated, I see them as somewhat separate
activities. Theory allows you to think about new possibilities. Strategy grows out of the
possibilities. This discussion has been devoted to developing socialist feminist theory and I am
hesitant to develop statements of strategy from it. Strategy will have to be fully articulated from
attempts to use theory. When one tries to define strategy abstractly from new and developing
statements of theory, the tendency to impose existing revolutionary strategies on reality is too
great. Existing formulations of strategy tend to limit and distort new possibilities for organizing
for revolutionary change. The importance of socialist feminist strategy, to the extent that it
exists, is that it grows out of the daily struggles of women in production, reproduction, and
consumption. The potential for revolutionary consciousness derives from the fact that women
are being squeezed both at home and on the job. Women are working in the labor force for less,
and they are maintaining the family system with less. This is the base from which consciousness
can develop. Women need to organize political action and develop political consciousness about
their oppression on the basis of an understanding of how this connects to the capitalist division
of labor. As Nancy Hartsock says: “the power of feminism grows out of contact with everyday
life. The significance of contemporary feminism is in the reinvention of a mode of analysis which
has the power to comprehend and thereby transform everyday life.’”2 We must, however, ask
whose everyday life we are speaking about. Although there are real differences between women’s
everyday lives, there are also points of contact that provide a basis for cross-class organizing.
While the differences must be acknowledged (and provide political priorities), the feminist
struggle begins from the commonality that derives from the particular roles women share in
patriarchy. Many socialist feminists were radical feminists first. They felt their oppression as
women and then, as they came to understand the role of capitalism in this system of oppression,
they became committed to socialism as well. Similarly, more and more houseworkers are
coming to understand that their daily lives are part of a much larger system. Women working
outside the home, both professional and nonprofessional, bear the pressures and anxieties about
being competent mothers and caretakers of the home and are becoming conscious of their
double day of work. Male leftists and socialist women often say that women as women cannot be
organized because of their isolation in the home and their commitment to their husbands' class.
Although cross-class organizing is not possible on all issues because of class conflict among
women, it is possible around issues of abortion, health care, rape, child care. Cross-class
organizing is worth a serious try if we deal consciously with our class differences and set up
priorities in terms of them instead of trying to ignore them. At the same time, the lives of women
are remarkably similar given patriarchal controls. We just need to be more conscious of how this
works and then structure our political action in terms of it. A strategy to reach all women has
never been tried. That its implementation will be difficult goes without saying. But a beginning
is already in process as women try to take some control over their lives.
Presently, the class structure is focused around men. We need to reconceive of
classes in terms of the effects felt by women.
Eisenstein, 79 (Zillah Eisenstein is both a pioneer and one of the most renowned authors in the developing of Social Feminism. She has been working at Ithaca
college for around 40 years, and also has become a regular writer for Al Jazeera. “Capitalist Patriarchy and the Case for Socialist Feminism”, 1978/1979 (depending on your
source), Essay: “Developing a Theory of Capitalist Patriarchy and Socialist Feminism”, subsection: “Synthesis: Social Feminism”.) ZB
The bourgeoisie as a class profits from the basic arrangement of women's work, while all
individual men benefit in terms of labor done for them in the home. For men, regardless of
class, benefit (although differentially) from the system of privileges they acquire within
patriarchal society. The system of privileges could not be organized as such if the ideology and
structures of male hierarchy were not basic to the society. It is this hierarchy which protects the
sexual division of labor and society along with the artificial needs that have been created
through the class system. The ruling class desire to preserve the family reflects its commitment
to a division of labor that not only secures it the greatest profit but that also hierarchically orders
the society culturally and politically. Once the sexual division of labor is challenged, particularly
in terms of its connection to the capitalist order, one of the basic forms of the organization of
work (especially affecting the home, but with wide ramifications for the entire society) will be
challenged. This challenge endangers a free labor pool, which infiltrates almost all aspects of
living, and a cheap labor pool, as well as the fundamental social and political organization of the
society, which is sexual hierarchy itself. The very order and control which derive from the
arrangements of power implied in the sexual hierarchy of society will be destroyed. If we
understand that there are basically two kinds of work in capitalist society—wage labor and
domestic labor—we can see that we must alter the way we think about workers. What we must
do is begin to understand what class means for women. We must not just reexamine the way
women have been fit into class categories. We must redefine the categories themselves. We need
to define classes in terms of woman’s complex reality and her consciousness of that reality.
Presently class categories are primarily male-defined, and a woman is assigned to a class on the
basis of her husband’s relation to the means of production; woman is not viewed as an
autonomous being. According to what criteria is a woman termed middle-class? What does it
mean to say that a middle- class woman’s life is “easier” than a working-class woman’s life when
her status is significantly different from that of a middle-class male? What of the woman who
earns no money at all (as houseworker) and is called middle-class because her husband is? Does
she have the same freedom, autonomy, or control over her life as her husband, who earns his
own way? How does her position compare to that of a single woman with a low-paying job?
Clearly a man who is labeled upper- or middle-class (whatever, precisely, that may mean) has
more money, power, security, and freedom of choice than his female counterparty Most women
are wives and mothers, dependent wholly or in part on a man’s support, and what the Man
giveth, he can take away.51 I do not mean by these questions to imply that class labels are
meaningless, or that class privilege does not exist among women, or that housewives
(houseworkers) are a class of their own. I do mean to say, however, that we will not know what
our real class differences are until we deal with what our real likenesses are as women. I am
suggesting that we must develop a vocabulary and conceptual tools which deal with the question
of differential power among women in terms of their relation to men and the class structure,
production and reproduction, domestic and wage labor, private and public realms, etc. Only
then will we see what effect this has on our understanding for organizing women. We need to
understand our likenesses and differences if we are to be able to work together to change this
society. Although our differences divide us, our likeness cuts through to somewhat redefine
these conflicts. A feminist class analysis must begin with distinctions drawn among women in
terms of the work they do within the economy as a whole — distinctions among working women
outside the home (professional versus nonprofessional), among houseworkers (houseworkers
who do not work outside the home and women who are houseworkers and also work outside),
welfare women, unemployed women, and wealthy women who do not work at all. These class
distinctions need to be further defined in terms of race and marital status. We then need to
study how women in each of these categories share experiences with other categories of women
in the activities of reproduction, childrearing, sexuality, consumption, maintenance of home.
What we will discover in this exploratory feminist class analysis is a complicated and varied
pattern, whose multigrid conceptualization mirrors the complexity of sex and class differentials
in the reality of women’s life and experience. This model would direct attention to class
differences within the context of the basic relationship between the sexual hierarchy of society
and capitalism. Hopefully, the socialist feminist analysis can continue to explore the
relationships between these systems, which in essence are not separate systems. Such a feminist
class analysis will deal with the different economic realities of women but will show them to be
defined largely within the context of patriarchal and capitalist needs. Women as women share
like economic status and yet are divided through the family structure to experience real
economic class differences. Such an examination should seek to realize woman’s potential for
living in social community, rather than in isolated homes; her potential for creative work, rather
than alienating or mindless work; her potential for critical consciousness as opposed to false
consciousness; and, her potential for uninhibited sexuality arising from new conceptions of
sexuality.
We need injunctions to strengthen feminist presences within the antiglobalization
movement and epistemic injunctions studying women as enabled political agents.
Eschle 5 Note: the references to Skeleton Woman are to a story where, to
essentialize, a skeleton feeds off a small amount of sustenance to grow flesh,
blood, etc, becoming a full person. (Catherine Eschle, BSc, MSc, DPhil British political scientist, feminist and academic Senior Lecturer in
the Department of Government, University of Strathclyde Education: BSc, University of Bristol; MSc, University of London; DPhil, University of Sussex Career: Catherine Eschle
is Senior Lecturer in the Department of Government at the University of Strathclyde and Director of Undergraduate Studies: First Year. Her research and teaching interests lie at
the intersections of feminist theory, international relations theory, globalization, theories of social movements and social change. She is currently working on an ESRC funded
research project with Bice Maiguashca of the University of Exeter entitled ‘Making Feminist Sense of “the Anti-Globalisation Movement”’ and teaching classes in international
relations and feminism. She is co-editor of International Feminist Journal of Politics. Publications include: Global Democracy, Social Movements and Feminism 2001, Critical
Theories, International Relations and ‘the Anti-Globalisation Movement’ (co-editor) 2005; several book chapters, book reviews and articles in professional journals. “’Skeleton
Women’: Feminism and the Antiglobalization Movement”, Signs, Vol. 30, No. 3, Spring 2005, p. 1741-1769. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/426793.) ZB
In sum, I found Skeleton Woman at Porto Alegre. Her refusal to be killed or destroyed ensures
that “Porto Alegre man”’ (DAWN 2002, 3) has not achieved total hegemony within the
movement. But she needs to grow in strength: by prioritizing the elaboration of a feminist
contribution to the critical analysis of globalization, by continuing the struggle for a feminist
voice within the antiglobalization movement, and by strengthening coalitions with other strands
within this movement (Francisco n.d.). As Estes’s story reminds us, putting flesh on the bones of
Skeleton Woman holds out the promise of enriching both feminism and the antiglobalization
movement as they become stronger, more inclusive, and more fully intertwined in their joint
pursuit of other possible worlds. I close with brief speculations on the implications of these
conclusions for the feminist postmodernist approach adopted in this article. First, it seems to
me that inquiry seeking to aid in the project of putting flesh on the bones of Skeleton Woman
needs to shift its focus from movement discourse to movement practice. More specifically, there
is an urgent need for attention to the mechanisms, processes, and actions through which
feminists can successfully influence movement agendas and construct democratic coalitions
with other activists. Discourse analysis is of only limited help here. Foucault’s work is
ambiguous on the relationship between discourse and practice, with some interpretations
emphasizing that practice is constituted by discourse and others focusing on “discursive
practice” (Howarth 2000, 64-84). In my view, both interpretations function to flatten out the
differences between diverse practices and do not provide tools to evaluate them. Alternative
methods for the empirical study of movement practices, such as interviewing and participant
observation, will have to be used alongside efforts to elaborate criteria for evaluation from the
standpoint of movement activists. This brings me, second, to the need to shift from the study of
discourse as productive of movements to the study of movement activists as producers of
discourse. I argued above that the integration of feminism into the antiglobalization movement
relies on the presence of self-declared feminists. This indicates the need for further examination
of exactly which feminists, how they come to feminism, how they insert themselves in
antiglobalization struggles, and so on. In other words, the call to put flesh on the bones of
Skeleton Woman can be interpreted not only as a political injunction to strengthen a feminist
presence within the antiglobalization movement but also as an epistemological injunction to
study feminists as embodied political agents. This involves a shift into feminist standpoint
epistemology. As Janet Ransom puts it, “It does matter ‘who is speaking’” (1993, 144; emphasis
in original). In sum, a feminist postmodernist approach yields significant insights into the
discursive construction of transnational movements. But it also raises pressing questions of
political strategy and agency that point inquiry in new directions.
Arenas like the World Social Forum demonstrate that antiglobalization
movements constituted and driven significantly by feminists not only work but are
hugely popular. However, even these forums that are still dominated by men.
Eschle 5 (Catherine Eschle, BSc, MSc, DPhil British political scientist, feminist and academic Senior Lecturer in the Department of Government, University of
Strathclyde Education: BSc, University of Bristol; MSc, University of London; DPhil, University of Sussex Career: Catherine Eschle is Senior Lecturer in the Department of
Government at the University of Strathclyde and Director of Undergraduate Studies: First Year. Her research and teaching interests lie at the intersections of feminist theory,
international relations theory, globalization, theories of social movements and social change. She is currently working on an ESRC funded research project with Bice Maiguashca
of the University of Exeter entitled ‘Making Feminist Sense of “the Anti-Globalisation Movement”’ and teaching classes in international relations and feminism. She is co-editor
of International Feminist Journal of Politics. Publications include: Global Democracy, Social Movements and Feminism 2001, Critical Theories, International Relations and ‘the
Anti-Globalisation Movement’ (co-editor) 2005; several book chapters, book reviews and articles in professional journals. “’Skeleton Women’: Feminism and the
Antiglobalization Movement”, Signs, Vol. 30, No. 3, Spring 2005, p. 1741-1769. http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/426793.) ZB
The World Social Forum (WSF) met for the first time in Porto Alegre, Brazil, in the last week of
January 2001 as a counterweight to the regular gathering of global elites at the World Economic
Forum in Davos, Switzerland. Convened under the banner “Another World Is Possible!” the
WSF was intended as a space in which alternatives to neoliberal orthodoxies could be discussed.
It has since spawned a huge mobilization process in the form of a rolling series of national and
regional forums, with the numbers of participants and issues discussed expanding
exponentially. I will focus my attention here on the annual global forum. The organizers claim
that the first forum was attended by approximately twenty thousand participants, “around 4,700
of them delegates for a wide range of organizations from 117 countries”; since then, participation
has grown at an astonishing rate, with the third gathering drawing “close to 100,000
participants from all over the world. Some 20,000 delegates, from a total of 123 countries, took
part” (WSF 2003b). These numbers alone are testimony to the growing importance of the forum
as a site of movement construction. In its “Charter of Principles,” the WSF declares itself “an
open meeting place for reflective thinking, democratic debate of ideas, formulation of proposals,
free exchange of experiences and interlinking for effective action, by groups and movements of
civil society that are opposed to neoliberalism and to domination of the world by capital and any
form of imperialism” (WSF 2002). The Charter makes it clear that the WSF is not meant to have
a determining vanguard role but rather seeks to enable the expression of diversity and plurality
within a context of “mutual recognition.” This resonates with feminist approaches to movement
organizing. However, this does not mean that there are no hierarchies within the forum. Several
commentators (e.g., Hardt 2002) emphasize the continuing influence of founding groups, particularly the French branch of ATTAC, which campaigns for the reform of
international finance, and the local Brazilian Worker’s Party (PT). At the second forum, the “Declaration of a Group of Intellectuals” (Amin et al. 2002) pointed to a tension
between a “neo- Keynesian” accommodation with capital and a “post-capitalist” insistence on the need to develop “another economic logic.” For Michael Hardt (2002), the key
division lay between an antiglobalization, prosovereignty position (which included social democratic as well as Marxist strands and which dominated, thanks to the PT and
ATTAC) and a “non-sovereign, alternative globalization position” (which included internationalist Marxists, among others). According to James Cockcroft (2003), the forum of
the following year may still have been numerically dominated by social democratic reformists, but a “participatory socialist position,” including some Marxists and also
anarchists, became ideologically dominant. It is worth noting that all these categorizations focus on economic analyses and connected strategies for political organization. To
some extent, this reflects and feeds into economistic discourses of (anti)globalization. However, there is also considerable disagreement on where the fault lines lie—hardly
surprising, given the size and scope of the forum. Certainly, reductive Marxist formulations have not become entirely dominant, and the overall impression is that the forum has
there appears to be space at the WSF for groups to
elaborate noneconomistic discourses of (anti)globalization. Declarations posted on the WSF
Web site describe a struggle that is against “the globalization of capital, its imperial political
expressions and increasing militarization” (Amin et al. 2002) and opposed to “a system based
on sexism, racism and violence, which privileges the interests of capital and patriarchy over the
needs and aspirations of people” (“Call of Social Movements” 2002). The latter declaration
moves explicitly away from economism in its insistence on the need to confront the
interconnections of capital with patriarchy and militarism. This is an “intersectional” discourse
of the kind described above as most developed among feminists; it recognizes the multiple axes
of oppression and identity around which groups do and should mobilize. Affinities with some
elements of feminism, I would argue, are reinforced by a growing antimilitaristic discourse at
the WSF. The Charter states that military organizations are not allowed to participate, thus
immediately privileging nonviolent modes of direct action. And this emphasis seems to have
been strongly reinforced in the context of the global response to the U.S.-led wars against
Afghanistan and Iraq. The “Call of Social Movements” (2002) insists that a key goal is the
struggle “against war and militarism. . . . We choose to privilege negotiation and non-violent
conflict resolution.” The huge march on the penultimate day of the 2002 forum, ostensibly
against the proposed Free Trade Area of the Americas, had a strongly antiwar theme. So did the
opening march of the 2003 forum, and antiwar events had a high profile throughout, including a
set of panels on the antiwar theme “democratic world order, fighting militarization, and
promoting peace” (see also Osava 2003; WSF 2003b). At the same time, some of the “spikier”
elements of the movement appear to have been sidelined. A closing panel in the 2002 forum
responded to questions from the floor about “recurring incidents of violence at various antiglobalisation protests” by criticizing the role of the black bloc (Si varaman 2002). Black blocstyle actions against property or the police appeared to play only a limited role in WSF actions
not been, and perhaps cannot be, entirely captured by any one doctrine. Further,
that year (Glock 2002), and I could find no mention of them at all on the WSF Web site for
2003. Further, it should be noted that feminist groups are using the forums to develop and
articulate their understandings of the connections between war, violence, and issues of gender
inequality and identity (e.g., “Asian Women’s Statement on Militarism” 2002). This brings me
to the extent to which feminist groups and discourses are a constitutive presence in the WSF.
Participating groups range from Development Alternatives with Women for a New Era (DAWN)
to the World March of Women (WMW) and from the Women’s International Coalition for
Economic Justice (WICEJ) to the Articulacion Feminista Marcosur (AFM). These and other
groups met just before the 2003 forum to coordinate their strategies and to produce a feminist
antiwar statement, and the WMW then headed up the opening demonstration. There followed
many autonomously organized feminist workshops, on topics ranging from education to
religious fundamentalism.8 Further, it appears that feminists have steadily increased their
presence on panels organized by other groups and under the official WSF banner. According to
Virginia Vargas, “Feminism . . . mainstreamed in several panels and workshops on trade,
financing for development, global reforms, migration, peace and much more” in the 2002 forum
(2002, 20). In 2003, two of the five “thematic areas” around which the official panels of the
forum were grouped—“principles and values, human rights, diversity, and equality” and
“political power, civil society, and democracy”—were coordinated by representatives of the
WMW (Diane Matte) and the AFM (Vargas). Unsurprisingly, feminist groups were a strong
presence on panels in these areas (see WSF 2003a). The control of these thematic areas stems
from the fact that both the AFM and the WMW are on the International Council, which advises
on the political direction of the forum. The WMW notes two further achievements. It claims
responsibility for the opening emphasis in the “Call of Social Movements” on the intersections of
capitalism with militarism and patriarchy (Burrows 2002), and in 2003 it achieved a strong
presence in the Youth Camp, organizing workshops and a demonstration against harassment
and violence in a setting previously resistant to feminist voices (Beaulieu and Giovanni 2003).
However, feminists also complained about the continued marginalization of their concerns at
the 2003 forum: “The struggle against capitalism is still considered to be the primary struggle in
the minds of many” (WMW 2003a); “gender issues were as usual very marginalized as not being
a ‘priority’ given these troubled times and the more ‘serious’ issues to tackle” (Karadenizli,
Allaert, and de la Cruz 2003). In other words, an intersectional discourse of globalization was
still overshadowed by more reductive discourses. Also, a feminist analysis was strongly evident
in the official panels of the 2003 forum only in those thematic areas organized by feminist
groups. In short, the integration of feminist concerns into antiglobalization discourses remained
dependent on the concrete presence of self-declared feminists. It is salutary, then, to find
widespread recognition that feminists remained a marginal presence at the forum in 2003.
There is acknowledgment among feminists that they bear some responsibility for this because of
their desire to preserve autonomy and because the “NGO-ization” or institutionalization of many
women’s groups has delegitimized them in the eyes of many at the forum (Karadenizli, Allaert,
and de la Cruz 2003, 1-2; Veneklasan 2003). But there is also a critique of hierarchies at work in
the forum. Klein (2003) has issued a stark warning about the increasing role of “big men”—
charismatic male leaders who have come to prominence within hierarchically organized leftist
political parties. Although there are several feminist organizations on the International Council
of the forum, with nine listed by one group as members in January 2003 (AFM 2003), it seems
that the agenda-setting power of this council may be limited. Further, these nine organizations
constituted less than 10 percent of the total membership of the council at that time (Albert
2003; Waterman 2003). Indeed, Candido Grzybowski (2002) has pointed to a “structural bias
that hinders women from exercising leadership roles.” He gives the example of the opening
press conference in 2002, which, though led by a woman, was dominated by nine men, and he
argues that the “problem is engendered, developed, and maintained in the culture of civil society
itself. In fact, a Jurassic macho culture still finds fertile ground” (Grzybowski 2002). Grzybowski
points here to the deep-rooted discourses of gender roles and social struggle emphasized above.
It is in this context, then, that self-declared feminist groups are not and cannot be fully content
with their undoubted achievements at the World Social Forum thus far. They continue to
struggle for a larger feminist presence and the fuller integration of feminist insights into the
forum and thus into the anti globalization movement more generally.
Patriarchy constructs a sexual hierarchy that capitalism feeds upon. The two
interact and blend with one another to form our current political economy.
Eisenstein, 79 (Zillah Eisenstein is both a pioneer and one of the most renowned authors in the developing of Social Feminism. She has been working at Ithaca
college for around 40 years, and also has become a regular writer for Al Jazeera. “Capitalist Patriarchy and the Case for Socialist Feminism”, 1978/1979 (depending on your
source), Essay: “Developing a Theory of Capitalist Patriarchy and Socialist Feminism”, subsection: “Synthesis: Social Feminism”.) ZB
The Sexual Division of Labor and Society in Capitalist Patriarchy: Toward a New Feminist
Theory One of the problems in trying to analyze the interconnections of patriarchy and
capitalism is that our language treats the family and the economy as separate systems. The
sexual hierarchical division of labor cuts through these two, however. Patriarchy and capitalism
operate within the sexual division of labor and society rather than within the family. A sexual
division of labor and society that defines people's activity, purposes, goals, desires, and dreams
according to their biological sex, is at the base of patriarchy and capitalism. It divides men and
women into their respective hierarchical sex roles and structures their related duties in the
family domain and within the economy. This statement of the mutual dependence of patriarchy
and capitalism not only assumes the malleability of patriarchy to the needs of capital but
assumes the malleability of capital to the needs of patriarchy. When one states that capitalism
needs patriarchy in order to operate efficiently one is really noting that male supremacy, as a
system of sexual hierarchy, supplies capitalism (and systems previous to it) with the necessary
order and control. This patriarchal system of control is thus necessary to the smooth functioning
of the society and the economic system and hence should not be undermined. This argument is
to underscore the importance of the system of cultural, social, economic, and political control
that emanates from the system of male supremacy. To the extent the concern with profit
and the concern with societal control are inextricably connected (but cannot be reduced
to each other), patriarchy and capitalism become an integral process; specific
elements of each system are necessitated by the other. Capitalism uses patriarchy and
patriarchy is defined by the needs of capital. This statement does not undermine the above claim
that at the same time one system uses the other, it must organize around the needs of the other
in order to protect the specific quality of the other. Otherwise the other system will lose its
specific character and with it its unique value. To state this as simply as possible one could say
that: patriarchy (as male supremacy) provides the sexual hierarchical ordering of society for
political control and as a political system cannot be reduced to its economic structure; while
capitalism as an economic class system driven by the pursuit of profit feeds off the patriarchal
ordering. Together they form the political economy of the society, not merely one or another,
but a particular blend of the two. There are problems with this oversimplified statement. It
severs relations which exist within both spheres. For instance, capitalism has a set of controls
which emanate directly from the economic class relations of society and their organization in the
workplace. And it seems to assume a harmony between the two systems at all points. As we
move further into advanced capitalism, we can see how uneasy this relationship is becoming. As
women increasingly enter the labor force, some of the control of patriarchal familial relations
seems to be undermined—the double day becomes more obvious. But the ghettoization of
women within the labor force at the same time maintains a system of hierarchical control of
women, both sexually and economically, which leaves the sexual hierarchy of the society intact.
Deference to patriarchal hierarchy and control is shown in the very fact that the search for cheap
labor has not led to a full integration of women into all parts of the labor force. Although
women’s labor is cheaper, the system of control which maintains both the necessary order of the
society and with it the cheapness of women’s labor must be protected by segregating women in
the labor force. Nevertheless, the justification for woman’s double day and unequal wages is less
well-protected today. It is important to note the discrepancy between patriarchal ideology and
the reality of women’s lives. Although all women are defined as mothers (and nonworkers),
almost 45 percent of the women in the United States—38.6 millon—work in the paid labor force,
and almost all labor in the home. Nearly a quarter of all working women are single; 19 percent
are either widowed, divorced, or separated: and another 26 percent are married to men who
earn less than $10,000 a year.18 However, because women are not defined as workers within the
ruling ideology, women are not paid for their labor or are paid less than men. The sexual
definition of woman as mother either keeps her in the home doing unpaid labor or enables her
to be hired at a lower wage because of her defined sexual inferiority. Given unemployment rates,
women either do not find jobs at all or are paid at an even lower rate. The sexual division of
labor and society remains intact even with women in the paid economy. Ideology adjusts to this
by defining women as working mothers. And the two jobs get done for less than the price of one.
Capitalism and patriarchy are interconnected, and cannot be isolated. Patriarchy
will persist after the alt.
Eisenstein, 79 (Zillah Eisenstein is both a pioneer and one of the most renowned authors in the developing of Social Feminism. She has been working at Ithaca
college for around 40 years, and also has become a regular writer for Al Jazeera. “Capitalist Patriarchy and the Case for Socialist Feminism”, 1978/1979 (depending on your
source), Essay: “Developing a Theory of Capitalist Patriarchy and Socialist Feminism”, subsection: “Synthesis: Social Feminism”.) ZB
Synthesis: Social Feminism Exploitation and Oppression Marxist analysis seeks a historical
explanation of existing power relationships in terms of economic class relations, and radical
feminism deals with the biological reality of power. Socialist feminism, on the other hand,
analyzes power in terms^ of its class origins and its patriarchal roots. In such an analysis, ;
capitalism and patriarchy are neither autonomous systems nor identical: they are,
in their present form, mutually dependent.
The focus upon the autonomous racial dimensions of power and oppression, although integral to a socialist feminist analysis, falls
outside this discussion. As can be seen from the discussion of oppression below, race is viewed as a key factor in defining power, but my discussion focuses only on the relations between sex and class as a first step in moving toward the more inclusive analysis of race.
For socialist feminists, oppression and exploitation are not equivalent concepts, for women or for members of minority races, as they were for Marx and Engels. Exploitation speaks to the economic reality of capitalist class relations for men and women, wher eas
oppression refers to women and minorities defined within patriarchal, racist, and capitalist relations. Ex- ploitation is what happens to men and women workers in the labor force; woman’s oppression occurs from her exploitation as a wage-laborer but also occurs
from the relations that define her existence in the patriarchal sexual hierarchy—as mother, domestic laborer, and consumer. Racial oppression locates her within the racist division of society alongside her exploitation and sexual oppression. Oppr ession is inclusive of
exploitation but reflects a more complex reality. Power—or the converse, oppression—derives from sex, race, and class, and this is manifested through both the material and ideological dimensions of patriarchy, racism, and capitalism. Oppression reflects the
hierarchical relations of the sexual and racial division of labor and society. My discussion will be limited to understanding the mutual dependence of capitalism and patriarchy as they are presently practiced in what I have chosen to call capitalist patriarchy. The
historical development of capitalist patriarchy can be dated from the mid-eighteenth century in England and the mid-nineteenth century in America. Both of these periods reflect the developing relationship between patriarchy and the new industrial capitalism.
Capitalist patriarchy, by definition, breaks through the dichotomies of class and sex,
private and public spheres, domestic and wage labor, family and
economy,personal and political, and ideology and material conditions. As we have
seen, Marx and Engels saw man’s oppression as a result of his exploited position as
worker in capitalist society. They assumed that woman’s oppression paralleled
this. They equated the two when they suggested that domestic slavery was the
same, in nature and essence, as wage-slavery. Marx and Engels acknowledged that
woman was exploited as a member of the proletariat if she worked in the labor force; if she was
relegated to domestic slavery she was seen as a nonwage slave. Capitalism was seen to exploit
women, but there was no conception of how patriarchy and capitalism together defined women’s
oppression. Today, especially with the insights of radical feminism, we see that not only is
the equation of exploitation and oppression problematic, but that if we use Marx’s
own categorization of productive labor as wage labor, domestic slaves are not
exploited in the same way as wage slaves. They would have to be paid a wage for this to be
true. The reduction of oppression to exploitation, within Marxist analysis, rests upon equating
the economic class structure with the structure of power in society. To the socialist feminist,
woman’s oppression is rooted in more than her class position (her exploitation); one
must address her position within patriarchy—both structurally and ideologically—as well. It is
the particular relation and operation of the hierarchical sexual ordering of society within the
class structure or the understanding of the class structure within the sexual ordering of society
which focuses upon human activity in capitalist patriarchy. They exist together and cannot be
understood when falsely isolated. In dealing with these questions, one must break down the
division between material existence (economic or sexual) and ideology, because the sexual
division of labor and society, which lays the basis for patriarchy as we know it, has both material
form (sex roles themselves) and ideological reality (the stereotypes, myths, and ideas which
define these roles). They exist in an internal web. If women’s existence is defined by capitalism
and patriarchy through their ruling ideologies and institutions, then an understanding of
capitalism alone (or patriarchy in isolation) will not deal with the problem of women’s
oppression. As Juliet Mitchell has written, “the overthrow of the capitalist economy and the
political challenge that effects this do not in themselves mean a transformation of patriarchal
ideology.”35 The overthrow does not necessitate the destruction of patriarchal institutions
either. Although practiced differently in each place, the sexual division of labor exists in the
Soviet Union, in Cuba, in China. The histories of these societies have been different, and
limitations in the struggle against patriarchy have been defined in terms of the particularities of
their cultures. There has been real progress in women’s lives, particularly in China and Cuba.
But it would be inaccurate to say that a sexual division of labor and society does not exist in
these countries. Only recently in Cuba has the sexual division of labor been tackled as a
particular problem for the revolution. Patriarchy is crosscultural, then, by definition, though it is
actualized differently in different societies via the institutionalizing of sexual hierarchy. The
contours of sex roles may differ societally but power has and does reside with the male. Both
radical feminists and socialist feminists agree that pa- triarchy precedes capitalism, whereas
Marxists believe that pa- triarchy arose with capitalism. Patriarchy today, the power of the male
through sexual roles in capitalism, is institutionalized in the nuclear family."1 Mitchell ties this
to the “law of the prehistoric murdered father.’’17 In finding the certain root of patriarchy in this
mythic crime among men at the dawn of our life as a social group, Mitchell risks discussing
patriarchy more in terms of the ideology patriarchy produces, rather than in connecting it to its
material formulation in the confrontation between man and woman. She roots the Oedipus
complex in the universal patriarchal culture. However, culture is defined for her in terms of an
exchange system which primarily exists in ideological form today. For Mitchell, patriarchy
precedes capitalism through the universal existence of the Oedipus complex. I contend,
however, that patriarchy precedes capitalism through the existence of the sexual ordering of
society which derives from ideological and political interpretations of biological difference. In
other words, men have chosen to interpret and politically use the fact that women are the
reproducers of humanity. From this fact of reproduction and men’s political control of it, the
relations of reproduction have arisen in a particular formulation of woman’s oppression. A
patriarchal culture is carried over from one historical period to another to protect the sexual
hierarchy of society; today the sexual division of society is based on real differences that have
accrued from years of ideological pressure. Material conditions define necessary ideologies, and
ideologies in their turn have impact on reality and alter reality. There is a two-way flow: women
are products of their social history, and yet women can shape their own lives as well.
at: neolib
The neoliberal institutions of the modern state reinforce power hierarchies
through CCTV installation
Fussey 7 criminologist and Professor of Sociology in the Department of Sociology at the
University of Essex (Pete, Surveillance & Society, An interrupted transmission? Processes of
CCTV implementation and the impact of human agency” p. 231 – 2, 2007,
http://queens.scholarsportal.info/ojs/index.php/surveillance-andsociety/article/viewFile/3449/3412)
However, critical examinations of surveillance have proliferated in recent years and generated a range of interesting
and important theoretical approaches. One particularly influential and growing body of work, for example, implicates CCTV
in the sorting of gendered, racialised or socio–economic ‘difference’ in late-modern urban
spaces (inter alia Seabrook and Wattis, 2001; Norris and Armstrong, 1999; Davis, 1998 respectively). Paralleling urban
geographical themes of divisive space (see Soja, 1989), this latter theme of socio-economic difference has been critically examined as
a process by which economically powerful groups in society gain power through the private management
of public space, a transition characterised by some as a subtle form of privatisation of public
space (Graham et al., 1996). This development has been similarly described as fostering the emergence of ‘neoliberal spaces’
(Brenner and Theodore, 2002), whereby an individual’s capacity for consumption influences access to zones of formerly public
space. For many commentators, CCTV has been a complicit tool in ordering and policing this division
between potential consumers and non-consumers in late-modern urban spaces (inter alia Beck and
Willis, 1995; Bannister et al., 1998; Coleman and Sim, 1998, 2000; Norris and Armstrong, 1999; Williams et al., 2000; Toon, 2000;
McCahill, 2002; Fyfe, 2004) and its ubiquity in commercial centres is perhaps testament to this. Such
developments have also connected with varying reflections on late-modern (re)configurations of
governance (inter alia Coleman, 2004; McCahill, 2002; Norris and McCahill, 2006). Although the above themes represent a
sizable portion of ‘surveillance theory’, other theoretical positions have sought to develop and build on Foucault’s work. Here, the
work of Giles Deleuze (1995) has gained particular ascendancy, chiefly in reference to his conceptualisation of ‘societies
of control’; a condition that supersedes Foucault’s disciplinary society. Continuing Foucault’s theme of the ubiquity of power,
Deleuze characterises a paradoxical co-existence of greater control alongside its reduced physical tangibility. Such control is thus
exercised though illimitable and unending ‘modulation’ as opposed to Foucauldian depictions of ‘moulding’ into a specific
‘normalised’ form (Deleuze, 1995: 179). In the most explicit adaptation of Deleuzian ‘control’ into explanations of surveillance,
Haggerty and Ericson (2000) note the convergence of control and surveillance systems, specifically through the development of
‘surveillant assemblages’. Briefly, these assemblages capture various information flows and re-assemble
them into observable phenomena. In conceptualising the lack of institutional boundaries of such assemblages, Haggerty
and Ericson forward the concept of ‘rhizomatic surveillance’ which incorporates a central feature of expansion. This
expansion refers to the exponential growth of surveillance which both subsumes new technology
and systems whilst simultaneously drawing existing surveillant forms into assemblages. Whilst
these theoretical arguments clearly have a great deal to offer, much of the emphasis is orientated around the functionality of
surveillance once installed and operational. This paper, however, examines what happens in order for surveillance provisions to
become deployed in the first instance, thus examining some of the complex processes surrounding and leading to implementation of
CCTV. Moreover, many (though clearly not all) of the above descriptions of the operation of CCTV harbour an implicit suggestion
that surveillance
is installed – or Fussey: An Interrupted Transmission? Surveillance & Society 4(3) 232 expands – to
reflect particular agendas (for example malign corporate intent) or evolving processes (such as
wider shifts towards societies of control). This paper conceptualises this process as one of a
‘transmission’ from concept to manifest CCTV implementation.
The aff turns neoliberalism – camera surveillance precludes the possibility of the
alt resisting
Coleman 4 [Roy, Professor of Sociology at Liverpool, “Reclaiming the Streets: Closed Circuit
Television, Neoliberalism and the Mystification of Social Divisions in Liverpool, UK,” 2004,
Surveillance & Society, CCTV Special (es. Norris, McCahill and Wood) 2(2/3): 293-309] //khirn
As a process of ‘creative destruction’, neoliberalism has been destructive of forms of welfare
provision, regulation of financial and monetary speculation, forms of targeted public funding
and certain rights and social entitlements. At the same time it has produced “moments of creation”, including the
building of free trade zones; and privatised spaces for high earner consumption; the unleashing of zero tolerance initiatives and
targeted surveillance; and the development of powerful and insidious discourses aiming to re-image cities within a vernacular of
“renaissance” (Brenner and Theodore, 2002: 363-372). These discourses of ‘partnership’ at the centre of neoliberal rule “are not
neutral” in the sense “that they construct problems, solutions and actions in particular ways that are congruent with existing
relations of power, domination and distribution of resources” (Atkinson, 1999: 70). In articulating the means and ends of urban
renaissance, a set of new primary definers – that include business associations, local media, developers, tourist agencies, public and
private police, as well as elected officials – are engaged in a project of urban reclamation which is formulated within a post welfare,
entrepreneurial politics that has promoted an ideology of self responsibilisation, itself underpinning a climate of moral indifference
to increasingly visible inequality. In the attempt to build a “growth machine” that is “safe for
development” (Logan and Molotch (1987: 13), the boundaries between public and private interests are
being reorganised, with the result of “a heightened control of the polity by new bourgeoisie and
property interests, almost exclusively consisting of businessmen” (Hall and Hubbard, 1996: 155, emphasis
added). Thus neoliberalism is a political force that is recasting the politics of locality. It is “a class relation and a product
of class struggle, an attempt to impose value discipline into society” (Eisenschitz and Gough, 1998: 761).3
What in effect is the “extraordinarily malleable character of neoliberal statecraft” (Brenner and Theodore, 2002: 345) covers a range
of ‘visionary’ and ‘developmental’ organisations that purport to represent local public interest. These decision makers and
definers of local problems exist usually at the behest of, but outside, elected power structures.
They are funded by cocktails of public-private monies and relatively inoculated from public
scrutiny, yet are central to the construction of new subjectivities and visions regarding the urban form and experience. As
representatives of a contradictory and discordant particular social bloc, the agents of the rescaled state have been engaged in local
political struggles to forge a “hegemonic project” (Jessop, 1990: 260) that renders both thinkable and practicable prescribed notions
of ‘renaissance’ and ‘quality of life’. The marketing of place has intensified processes bound up with attempts to lever investment and
provide the basis for positive re-imaging through the selling of an area’s economic ‘benefits’ in terms of infrastructure and labour
force, the selling of cultural products, consumption and leisure facilities, tourist attractions, and a generalised ‘quality of life’ that
includes ‘crime and safety’. As well as attempting to make the city more attractive to potential investors, this ‘manipulation of image’
has played “a role in ‘social control’ logic, convincing local peoples as to the benevolence of entrepreneurial strategies” (Hall and
Hubbard, 1996: 162). The local population as a whole are a category to be ‘educated’ in line with
‘quality of life’ and ‘life style’ issues as defined within central regeneration vernacular. As the
local newspaper story at the beginning of the paper makes clear, these themes run coterminous
with a desire to evoke a notion of self-governing subjects, autonomously choosing aspects of ‘life
style’ offered by in the city.4 The problem of place management, the selection of ‘desirable’
images and the dissemination of ‘friendly’ information about ‘place’ has been at the same time
the problem of representing and maintaining order within cities. Meanwhile, within these ‘new’ urban
spaces, the popular press focuses on the playfulness of consumption while ignoring the incongruous side of contrived ‘culture’ based
regeneration, or what Parenti (1999: 95) calls “policing the theme park city”. In other words what needs to be focused on here is
neoliberal urbanism as it is implicated in the creation of normative orders impacting on city spaces. These orders are akin to
contemporary state discourses and have been instrumental in setting the parameters of ‘proper’ and ‘orderly’ urban rule. The
contrived spaces of the neoliberal city and their controlled playfulness is staged alongside the
perception of a chaos-free and unified civil order (Swyngedouw, 1996: 1504), a perception integral to a
politics of vision that seeks the realisation of profits and a channelling of capital into the built
environment. In making these connections between how cities are ruled issues have been raised about the reworking of the
boundaries between public and private space, and a re-ordering of the uses of that space alongside an intensification in the reality
and visibility of socio-economic inequality. Social control strategies enacted in entrepreneurialised
landscapes are increasing the divergence of control tasks that traverse public and private sectors
and open up spaces for the expansion of ‘crime prevention’ projects which are not necessarily directed at legally
defined ‘crime’, but instead bring under punitive control target groups and individuals deemed
incompatible with the neoliberal urban vision . Camera surveillance merges ‘crime control’
with a broader strategy that seeks to manage a notion of ‘quality of life’ that in turn reflects the
re-imaging of ‘place’. At the local level, this has been accompanied by a move towards ‘public order’,
‘zero tolerance’ or ‘quality of life’ policing that has formed a strand in urban regeneration
discourse on both sides of the Atlantic and increasingly embodies reference to globalized
‘nuisances’ and crime referents. Political programmes developed to counter any negative local, national and international
reputations and identities that particular ‘places’ are perceived to engender has become a central feature of entrepreneurial cities.
The agencies of a neoliberal state - local business, police, local government, developers – attempt to forge a
consensus around ‘growth’ orientated strategies and dedicate resources and ideological weight
to the management of local problems and threats deemed to destabilise a local growth strategy.
As part of statecraft at the local level these agencies have reworked levels of interagency trust from which
information exchange has become more fluid and an important component in investment
decisions.5 The ‘recognition’ of the salience of ‘crime’ amongst local ‘growth machines’ and its
importance in the competitive re-positioning of ‘global cities’ has been reflected in the UK through central government
initiatives such as the Crime and Disorder Act (1998). Within ‘Third Way’ speak the Act is aimed at producing ‘joined
up’ government6 and integrating CCTV with other policing-come-surveillance practices. The Act of
1998 and the Anti-Social Behaviour Act of 2003 are an attempt to formalize and bring a measure of coherence to the developments
discussed in this paper. As well as subjecting behaviour in public spaces to a series of contracts these legislative changes
explicitly celebrate and valorise expertise within the private/corporate sector (Home Office, 1998: Sec. 2.33). Further, within ‘third
way’ politics, a central aim is the restoration of sovereign or state control over the ‘socially
excluded’, ‘hard to reach groups’ or, as we used to say, the poor (Stenson, 1999). The
responsibilisation of actors in this process has not been a free-for-all, but highly circumscribed
process veiled under the mantra of ‘partnership’. It is under this mantra that a neoliberal social control
‘logic’ has taken root deep within the social relations and powerful visions prescribed for
contemporary cities.