The arrest in France of Telegram founder and CEO Pavel Durov has brought into sharp focus one of the major conflicts of our age. On one hand, we want privacy in our digital lives, which is why we like the kind of end-to-end encryption Telegram promises. On the other, we want the government to be able to stamp out repugnant online activities — such as child pornography or terrorist plotting. The reality is that we cannot have our cake and eat it, too.
Durov last month was charged with complicity in crimes taking place on the app, including distributing child pornography, drug trafficking and selling hacking software, as well as with refusing to cooperate with French authorities’ investigations.
In a public statement, Durov said he has aided investigators, that the app moderates content as best it can, and that if “we can’t agree with a country’s regulator on the right balance between privacy and security … we are ready to leave that country.”
Illustration: Kevin Sheu
The tradeoffs between privacy and safety are real. Recognizing that makes hard policy choices inevitable. However, we have not made those choices yet — not the EU, where Durov was arrested, nor the US. Until we do, arresting the CEOs is little more than a misguided, symbolic move. Criminal arrest should be reserved for people who have contravened clearly established law, not entrepreneurs providing the public with products we are not exactly sure we want to allow.
A bit more than one decade old, Telegram has almost 1 billion monthly users worldwide. It seems probable that many of them started using the app for the same reason: privacy that is supposed to be superior to that offered by other messaging platforms.
Privacy can function as a form of subtle resistance to powerful forces, whether corporate or governmental. Saying you do not want anyone listening in can be a way of asserting sovereignty over some corner of one’s life. (It is likely not a coincidence that Durov and his cofounder brother are Russian exiles, members of a culture thoroughly accustomed to pervasive government surveillance.)
Privacy is also an aspect of human dignity. In nearly all cultures on earth, people choose to protect some parts of their bodies or some of their activities from others’ prying eyes. Cultures differ on what should be private, but that variation is secondary to the basic impulse that some aspects of the self are not for public consumption.
Such points often get quickly shoved aside when the conversation turns to safety — particularly when a crime is one we have deemed utterly reprehensible.
Online, as in real life, the better the surveillance, the greater the safety. Conversely, the more privacy, the more risk of a crime going undetected. The only difference between the physical and digital spheres is that in the former, most societies have developed fairly stable beliefs about the right balance between privacy and safety, beliefs long enshrined in law. Online, we are still figuring it out — and we want to have it both ways.
The real question about apps such as Telegram, then, is pretty simple: Do we want there to be spaces where people can genuinely evade surveillance? Or do we think that the benefits are not worth the inevitable costs, which is that some people would take advantage of digital privacy to commit crimes we rightly abhor?
It is an illusion to imagine that there is some solution that perfectly preserves both privacy and safety. Automated algorithmic surveillance is still surveillance. Relying on governments to seek warrants before breaking privacy, a feature of existing law in liberal democracies, only works if the communications are not truly encrypted, but can be accessed through a back door. Relying on the platforms to review communication turns private companies into the powerful agents of even more powerful governmental forces.
We would eventually reach some sort of consensus about how and when to sacrifice privacy for safety, and vice versa — in the form of new laws, from civil penalties to (when necessary) criminal law.
In a world where we have not yet made up our minds, it is a cop-out to arrest a CEO like Durov. The arrest might make us feel good, because it gives the impression that a government is using all means at its disposal to pursue crime. However, that feeling is illusory — because it masks our own ongoing ambivalence about true digital privacy.
It is time we confronted the privacy-safety trade-off honestly. Until we have a clearer answer enshrined in law, arresting CEOs is not the solution.
Noah Feldman is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist. He is a professor of law at Harvard University and the author of To Be a Jew Today: A New Guide to God, Israel, and the Jewish People.
In their recent op-ed “Trump Should Rein In Taiwan” in Foreign Policy magazine, Christopher Chivvis and Stephen Wertheim argued that the US should pressure President William Lai (賴清德) to “tone it down” to de-escalate tensions in the Taiwan Strait — as if Taiwan’s words are more of a threat to peace than Beijing’s actions. It is an old argument dressed up in new concern: that Washington must rein in Taipei to avoid war. However, this narrative gets it backward. Taiwan is not the problem; China is. Calls for a so-called “grand bargain” with Beijing — where the US pressures Taiwan into concessions
The term “assassin’s mace” originates from Chinese folklore, describing a concealed weapon used by a weaker hero to defeat a stronger adversary with an unexpected strike. In more general military parlance, the concept refers to an asymmetric capability that targets a critical vulnerability of an adversary. China has found its modern equivalent of the assassin’s mace with its high-altitude electromagnetic pulse (HEMP) weapons, which are nuclear warheads detonated at a high altitude, emitting intense electromagnetic radiation capable of disabling and destroying electronics. An assassin’s mace weapon possesses two essential characteristics: strategic surprise and the ability to neutralize a core dependency.
Chinese President and Chinese Communist Party (CCP) Chairman Xi Jinping (習近平) said in a politburo speech late last month that his party must protect the “bottom line” to prevent systemic threats. The tone of his address was grave, revealing deep anxieties about China’s current state of affairs. Essentially, what he worries most about is systemic threats to China’s normal development as a country. The US-China trade war has turned white hot: China’s export orders have plummeted, Chinese firms and enterprises are shutting up shop, and local debt risks are mounting daily, causing China’s economy to flag externally and hemorrhage internally. China’s
During the “426 rally” organized by the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) and the Taiwan People’s Party under the slogan “fight green communism, resist dictatorship,” leaders from the two opposition parties framed it as a battle against an allegedly authoritarian administration led by President William Lai (賴清德). While criticism of the government can be a healthy expression of a vibrant, pluralistic society, and protests are quite common in Taiwan, the discourse of the 426 rally nonetheless betrayed troubling signs of collective amnesia. Specifically, the KMT, which imposed 38 years of martial law in Taiwan from 1949 to 1987, has never fully faced its
RSS