Personal Data for the Taking
David Scull for The New York Times
A class at Johns Hopkins was able to build detailed dossiers on Baltimore citizens using only public databases.
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By TOM ZELLER Jr.
Published: May 18, 2005
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enator
Ted Stevens wanted to know just how much the Internet had turned
private lives into open books. So the senator, a Republican from Alaska
and the chairman of the Senate Commerce Committee, instructed his staff
to steal his identity. "I regret to say they were successful," the senator reported at a hearing he held last week on data theft. His
staff, Mr. Stevens reported, had come back not just with digital
breadcrumbs on the senator, but also with insights on his daughter's
rental property and some of the comings and goings of his son, a
student in California. "For $65 they were told they could get my Social
Security number," he said. That would not surprise 41 graduate
students in a computer security course at Johns Hopkins University.
With less money than that, they became mini-data-brokers themselves
over the last semester. They proved what privacy advocates have
been saying for years and what Senator Stevens recently learned: all it
takes to obtain reams of personal data is Internet access, a few
dollars and some spare time. Working with a strict requirement to
use only legal, public sources of information, groups of three to four
students set out to vacuum up not just tidbits on citizens of
Baltimore, but whole databases: death records, property tax
information, campaign donations, occupational license registries. They
then cleaned and linked the databases they had collected, making it
possible to enter a single name and generate multiple layers of
information on individuals. Each group could spend no more than $50. Although
big data brokers can buy the databases they crave - from local
governments as well as credit agencies, retail outlets and other
sources that students would not have access to - the exercise
replicated, on a small scale, the methods of such companies. They include ChoicePoint
and LexisNexis, which have been called before Congress to explain,
after thieves stole consumer data from their troves, just what it is
they do and whether government oversight is in order. And as concerns
over data security mount, inherent conflicts between convenient access
to public records and a desire for personal privacy are beginning to
show. The Johns Hopkins project was conceived by Aviel D. Rubin, a professor of computer science and the technical director of the Information Security Institute
at the university. He has used his graduate courses before to expose
weaknesses in electronic voting technology and other aspects of a
society that is increasingly dependent on - and at the mercy of -
digital technology. "My expectations were that they would be able to
find a lot of information, and in fact they did," he said. Several
groups managed to gather well over a million records, with hundreds of
thousands of individuals represented in each database. "Imagine what they could do if they had money and unlimited time," Dr. Rubin said. In
some instances, students visited local government offices and filed
Freedom of Information Act requests for the data - or simply "asked
nicely" - sometimes receiving whole databases on a compact disc. In
other cases, they wrote special computer scripts, which they used to
pick up whole databases from online sources like Maryland's registry of
occupational licenses (barbers, architects, plumbers) or from free
commercial address databases like Verizon's SuperPages, an online yellow pages directory. Dr.
Rubin said he was pleasantly surprised that his students turned up
fewer Social Security numbers than he expected, although he wondered if
even the benign tidbits - property details, occupations, political
parties - when combined on a single individual, would be troubling to
some. David Albright is one such individual. In a single query,
one student group's master database turned up his precise address, his
phone number, his occupation (his architect's license expires in
November), the name of his wife, their birth dates, the price he and
his wife paid for their 2,200-square-foot brick home in 1990, his party
registration and the elections he has voted in since 1978. The
query also highlighted the hazards of data aggregation: a gubernatorial
campaign donation from 2002 was not made by him, Mr. Albright said, but
apparently by another David Albright in Baltimore. "It's hard to
fully digest," Mr. Albright said when contacted by a reporter with
these details. Mr. Albright thought that while the individual bits of
information weren't that "creepy," their easy aggregation was
troubling. "What would be disturbing is if by having all this
information consolidated, it made stealing an identity easier," he
said. "That would be a concern." Like any other American, Mr.
Albright deposited these tidbits in various databases as he conducted
the routine transactions- voting, buying a house, donating money to a
campaign - and they became public records. As more of those records are
made available on the Internet (a Government Accountability Office
study last November estimated that as many as 28 percent of county
governments now make public records available online), anyone with
Internet access, anywhere in the world, can dig them up. "I
think what this professor and students have done is a powerful object
lesson in just how much information there is to be found about most of
us online," said Beth Givens, director of the Privacy Rights
Clearinghouse in San Diego, "and how difficult it is, how impossible it
is, to control what's done with our information." Journalists,
private investigators, law enforcement officials and others who gather
background information on individuals for a living tend to view as a
boon the migration of public records databases to the Internet, as well
as the combination of those records at one-stop shops like ChoicePoint
and LexisNexis, which is owned by Reed Elsevier. But some
privacy advocates are arguing that ease of access has a downside, too.
Social Security numbers, they say, remain easy to come by, particularly
in the thousands of public documents now being scanned and made
available online. Social Security numbers present a particular threat
because they are the primary identifiers that let thieves open credit
lines, apply for loans or otherwise pose as another person. Betty
Ostergren, a former insurance claims supervisor in Virginia, has become
an expert in digging up scanned documents and other information from
local government Web sites around the country. "I don't want these records on the Internet," said Ms. Ostergren, whose Web site, the Virginia Watchdog (www.opcva.com/watchdog),
documents her efforts, complete with defiant instructions on how to
find sensitive information on public officials. "I hate to do it," she
said, "but I'm trying to get my point across." That includes the
Social Security numbers and signatures of the director of central
intelligence, Porter J. Goss, and his wife. They can be found in
records made available on a county court Web site in Florida. David
Bloys, a private investigator in Texas, is equally concerned. He has
helped draft a bill now before the Texas Legislature that would
prohibit the bulk transfer and display over the Internet of documents
filed with local government. There are real dangers involved,
Mr. Bloys said, when such information "migrates from practical
obscurity inside the four walls of the courthouse to widespread
dissemination, aggregation and export across the world via the
Internet." However convenient online access has made things for
legitimate users, the information is equally convenient for "stalkers,
terrorists and identity thieves," he said. The bill, introduced
in Austin by Representative Carl Isett, a Republican, was unanimously
approved by the State Affairs Committee on May 3, but did not make the
deadline for a House vote. A spokesman said Mr. Isett was seeking to
amend another bill with language from his proposal. And just
two weeks ago in Alaska, the American Civil Liberties Union - a strong
advocate of openness and access to public documents - took up the cause
of Maryjane Hinman, a nurse who had lobbied unsuccessfully to have her
home address removed from the state's online registry of occupational
licenses. "We feel that open access to public records is key to
a free society," said Jason Brandeis, the A.C.L.U. lawyer handling the
suit, which seeks to bar Alaska from disseminating contact information
for licensed nurses. "But a balance needs to be struck between the
public interest in open access to government information, and the need
to protect individual privacy." Whether such a balance can ever
be achieved when so much information is already available is an open
question. And some people are troubled by recent trends against access.
"I have no problem with an individual who faces unusual threats
from publication of her identity or identifying details being able
under the law to seek special exception from openness," said Rebecca
Daugherty, the director of the Freedom of Information Service Center
for the Reporters Committee for Freedom of the Press in Virginia. "But
the secrecy should be the exception not the rule." Several Johns
Hopkins students came to a similar conclusion. Despite their surprise
at the number of records they could amass and combine, many still felt
that the benefits of openness outweighed the risks. "If some
citizen is concerned about dead people remaining registered to vote, he
can simply obtain the database of deaths and the voter registration
database and cross-correlate," said 21-year-old Joshua Mason, whose
group discovered 1,500 dead people listed as active registered voters.
Fifty of those dead people somehow voted in the last election. "The
problem is, we don't know what we want," Dr. Rubin said, referring to
the competing social interests in openness and privacy. "It is
clear that there are strong negative consequences to being able to
collect and correlate all this information on people," he said, "but it
is also possible that the consequences to personal freedom would be
worse if it were outlawed." Subscribe Today: Home Delivery of The Times from $2.90/wk.
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