COURT'S DECISION ON HOME PRIVACY CAN BE A GOOD GUIDE

Danny Kyllo was not growing rhododendrons in his home on Rhododendron
Drive in Florence, Ore., in 1992. He was growing marijuana, which,
when cultivated indoors, requires high-intensity lamps that generate
considerable heat and, in this instance, generated a Supreme Court
case.

Last Monday's decision merits attention because the opinion for the
closely divided (5-4) court was written by Justice Antonin Scalia. He
is commonly, and not improperly, called a "strict constructionist." He
describes himself as an "originalist," meaning that he construes the
Constitution by reading the text as its words were used and understood
at the time by those who wrote them.

The logic and structure of the document illuminates the original
meaning of those words.

And Scalia's originalism was no impediment to ruling that Kyllo's
Fourth Amendment right to protection against unreasonable searches was
violated by a technology never envisioned by the Constitution's authors.

Dissenting from his civil libertarian opinion were three more-or-less
conservative justices (Rehnquist, O'Connor and Kennedy) and the
court's most liberal justice, Stevens.

Acting on information from informants and utility records, law
enforcement officers used an Agema Thermovision 210 thermal imager to
detect that the roof over Kyllo's garage and a side wall of his home
were unusually hot. Using that evidence, they acquired a search
warrant, found more than 100 marijuana plants and arrested Kyllo. He
said the evidence was illegally obtained because the warrant was
issued partly on the basis of the thermal imaging results, and the
imaging itself constituted a search conducted without a warrant, in
violation of the Fourth Amendment protection against unreasonable searches.

The amendment was written in the context of the English common law
principle that "the eye cannot by the laws of England be guilty of a
trespass." However, more than the law enforcement officers' eyes were
involved in the scan of Kyllo's home that was conducted from the
street and took only a few minutes.

The question for the court, as Scalia posed it, was: How much
technological enhancement of ordinary perception from such a vantage
point, if any, is too much?

Scalia, joined by Souter, Thomas, Ginsburg and Breyer, stressed that
the thermal imaging technology used is "a device that is not in
general public use" and a homeowner has a reasonable expectation of
privacy for activities that could not be detected without
technologically enhanced eavesdropping. But, then, such eavesdropping
is, in a sense, a contradiction in terms.

There often is wisdom in the logic of common language, so notice the
derivation of the word that would commonly be used to describe what
the government was doing: "eavesdropping." The late Justice Hugo Black
noted that people surreptitiously seeking information used to lurk in
the "eavesdrop," in the shadow under a building's eave. This may not
have been nice, but neither was it invasive.

It was the equivalent of surveillance by the "naked eye" -- in this
example, the officers' eyes unassisted by any sense-enhancing technology.

Privacy is neither an easily identifiable thing, like the Grand
Canyon, nor an absolute value.

However, the concern of the Constitution's Framers for protecting
privacy began by assuming that privacy of the home is the most
precious and most easily defined sort. In Kyllo's case, Scalia offered
this "originalist" criterion: What preserves the "degree of privacy
against government that existed when the Fourth Amendment was
adopted"? Scalia and four colleagues concluded, "On the basis of this
criterion, the information obtained by the thermal imager in this case
was the product of a search."

Stevens, writing for the three other dissenters, sided with law
enforcement, accusing the majority of abandoning "judicial restraint"
as it overturned the 9th Circuit, the home of liberal judicial
activism, which had ruled against Kyllo. Stevens argued that searches
of "property in plain view" are presumptively reasonable. Scalia
responded that it is "simply inaccurate" to say, as the dissenters
did, that the thermal imaging did not obtain information about the
home's interior, the most protected realm of intimacy.

Congress is about to step onto the dark and bloody ground of the
judicial confirmation process.

Jurisprudential theories -- "strict construction," "originalism," the
Constitution as a "living document" that "evolves" to meet "new
problems" -- will be bandied.

Some senatorial and other critics of President Bush's judicial
nominees will portray those nominees as too much like Scalia, and
hence too strict in their "originalist" constitutional construction to
understand the applicability of the document to modern conditions. The
decision in the Kyllo case should, but probably will not, cause these
critics second, or perhaps first, thoughts.