The problem is that the bill casts a very wide net in its ostensible fight against exploitation. It requires the retention of data that can reveal what sites you've surfed and what you looked at and posted on them. That includes e-mail, social networking, online purchases, and personal finances.
And authorities wouldn't have to jump through many hoops. The bill merely requires that any snooping be authorized by an "administrative subpoena" - not a warrant or subpoena signed by a judge. (The national security letters used to monitor citizens' phone conversations so cavalierly during the Bush administration were administrative subpoenas.) Police would be able to see your passwords, account balances, and transactions with nothing more than a boss' signature.
That would be bad enough if they were limited to looking for evidence of child exploitation. But there's nothing in the bill to suggest that.
Not surprisingly, H.B. 1981 has privacy advocates in a tizzy. Julian Sanchez of the Cato Institute has said that fighting child pornography is "a fig leaf for true purpose: a sweeping data retention requirement meant to turn Internet service providers and online companies into surrogate snoops for the government's convenience." The day before the committee vote last month, a coalition of 29 groups, ranging from the American Library Association to the Muslim Public Affairs Council, signed a letter to bill sponsor and committee Chairman Lamar Alexander (R., Tenn.) calling it a "direct assault on the privacy of Internet users."
