From: Thomas Lee <tyl2102@columbia.edu>
  To  : <CPC@emoglen.law.columbia.edu>
  Date: Mon, 08 May 2006 17:47:06 -0400

[CPC] Paper One: Surveillance Can Be Murder

Disclaimer: If you have not seen the movie Se7en and plan to, this
essay contains a spoiler.

David Fincher’s 1995 movie Se7en follows two detectives in their
tracking of a serial killer who chooses victims that epitomize the
seven deadly sins.  The quintessential theme of any big budget
Hollywood cop movie is present: an eager young rookie joins a
soon-to-be-retired detective for his last week on the job.  Brad
Pitt plays rookie Mills, a naïve and idealistic cop transferring in
from a small town.  Morgan Freeman is the weathered and jaded big
city veteran Somerset.  So far there appears to be nothing
particularly unique about this film, other than the way in which
the killer proceeds with his victims.  However, Fincher brings
issues of privacy and surveillance to the forefront.  This in
itself may be nothing extraordinary, but strangely enough this is
exactly what makes it so surprising.  His coverage and thoughts on
the topic in 1995 are not significantly different from the current
conversation.  Not much has changed, even after terrorism has
propelled itself into such a central role in our consciousness.

With no promising leads in searching for the religiously obsessed
killer, Somerset decides to take Mills to one of his sources, a
shady FBI undercover agent.  They meet with him in order to
purchase public library reading records.  Somerset explains to
Mills how the FBI has been secretly monitoring readers who check
out books that raise red flags, such as those on nuclear weapons or
Hitler’s Mein Kampf.  If the detectives want to know who has been
reading books on the seven deadly sins, the FBI will be able to
tell them.  At the time the film was made, such surveillance was
radical and outrageous.  Mills’ reaction says it all.  In this
respect he represents the typical movie viewer in 1995, first
showing incredulity, only to finally settle on asking if such a
practice is illegal.  Somerset’s attitude on the subject is one
that we attribute to those in power all the time.  He brushes aside
such questions as irrelevant and not worth the trouble and breath.  
Legal or illegal: such terms are meaningless when it comes to safety
and the pursuit of swift justice.  Sacrifices must be made and
privacy is merely a small one that the public need not focus on. 
This is simply the way the game must be played in order to win.

When the FBI’s records lead the detectives to the killer’s apartment
door, one can’t help but feel relieved.  The methods may have been
questionable, but at least the good guys have found their man.  It
does not matter whether it’s a killer’s doorstep the police are led
to or a terrorist’s—the ambivalence over the propriety of such
invasive methods disappears when the right target is apprehended. 
The successful search for the boogeyman erases many doubts.  This
is too simple, clean-cut, and neat however.  Fincher is not the
type of director who allows us to insulate ourselves in the comfort
of knowing that this time improper surveillance has served its
purpose.  What makes the privacy discussion in Se7en noteworthy is
that he encapsulates the conflicting feelings we have about our
privacy being invaded.

Later in the movie the music turns foreboding and the atmosphere
sinister as the captured killer reveals an unexpected twist.  He
was able to purchase Mills’ address and the name of his wife.  He
spent all afternoon in the policeman’s home with Mills none the
wiser.  The feelings of violation and outrage that are evoked aptly
sum up the fears we have about our own personal information falling
into the wrong hands.  Those wrong hands do not have to belong to a
murderer to worry us.  Regardless of the method used, the fact that
almost anything anyone wants to know about us seems possible to
procure is deeply disturbing and Fincher recognizes this as the
dominant presence in the scene.  Suddenly when it’s not the
criminal who is being exposed, surveillance and other means of
intrusion become repugnant.  The eviscerating nature of it repels
us.  This double standard leads us to realize that not much has
changed in the decade that has passed since Se7en.

Our attitudes on the need to compromise our privacy in the name of
security remain conflicted and ambivalent.  We want someone
watching those that we deem to be threats and this usually ends up
being those we believe are different and separate from us.  We
envision them as being akin to the Se7en killer: someone we cannot
relate to and who must be stopped.  There seems to be a clear need
for surveillance, but we are not sure at what cost.  Eleven years
after Se7en all that is different is our acceptance of the
techniques being used without our knowledge and consent.  Nowadays
the concept of tracking the reading habits of everyone who uses the
public library is far from radical.  But other ways of keeping tabs
on individuals by any entity with means are sure to continue to
develop and evolve as the times dictate.  Given the increasingly
invasive state of surveillance and the eroding sense of what
constitutes privacy in contemporary society, one might find it
disconcerting that our position and feelings on the subject has not
clarified or at a minimum progressed.

Instead, what Se7en proves when watching it is that what would be
even more disconcerting is if our position had moved closer to a
concrete position.  There is good reason for the uncertainty we
feel.  Everyone wants to catch the bad guys and leave the rest of
us unscathed in the process.  But everyone also knows that
regardless of how far the intrusion reaches, or perhaps more
accurately because of how far it will continue to, this simply is
not possible.  What we do not know and what we can never know for
sure is just what the price for all of us ultimately is and whether
we can afford to pay it.

Word Count: 996

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