21 minute read
The Foilies 2020
for information about surveillance technology, the Irvine Police Department in California provided researchers at MuckRock and Open the Government with a catalog called the “Black Book” from a secretive company called Special Services Group. The catalog advertised a range of spy devices that would make Q drool, including cameras that can be concealed in gravestones, vacuum cleaners and baby car seats.
But, as Vice’s Motherboard prepared to publish a story on the documents, Special Services Group stepped out of the shadows to issue sweeping legal threats, arguing that by publishing the documents, researchers were violating everything from federal copyright law to arms control regulations. Vice, MuckRock and Open the Government rightfully resisted the censorship threat, since that’s not how it works. Special Services should have taken its beef to the city’s law firm, which reviewed and then released the documents.
The Smokescreen Award: Texas Elementary Schools
Across the country, parents, educators and lawmakers are fuming about nicotine “vaping” among underage students. Considering that this is branded as a public health crisis, one would assume schools would be forthcoming with data about vaping incidents on campuses to help inform policymakers.
That’s not what Sarah Rafique, a reporter with ABC 13 Investigates in Houston, found when she filed records requests with more than 1,000 schools across Texas. About 10% of agencies missed the 10-day deadline to respond. One school demanded an (illegal) flat fee of $150 for all requests, while another agency demanded to know the reason for the request before they’d hand over the documents. “It was weird, too, that some districts said they didn’t have any data/information but when I explained I was reaching out to 1,000 districts (and they wouldn’t be singled out, per se) all of a sudden they had numbers to share,” Rafique said in a Twitter thread outlining the most troubling responses to her requests.
Someone at the Federal Aviation Administration has an unhealthy relationship with their CD burner. Last year, Mike Katz-Lacabe of the Center for Human Rights and Privacy filed a FOIA request with the FAA to get records about helicopters and airplanes operated by 19 different police agencies in California. The FAA turned up 120 MB of files. They could have put them on a single CD-ROM, which can hold about 700 MB of information. Instead, the FOIA officer burned the records to 19 separate discs and sent them to KatzLacabe in the mail.
The Queen of all FOIA Denials: Egyptian Museum of Berlin
For three years, Cosmo Wenman battled with the German government-funded Egyptian Museum and Papyrus Collection (aka, the Egyptian Museum of Berlin) over a freedom of information campaign to release the 3D scan of a bust of Queen Nefertiti. The museum denied the request for the high-quality scan of the over 3,000-year-old statue, arguing that it would threaten its commercial interests – namely by creating competition in the sale of images or reproductions.
“The organization was treating its scan of Nefertiti like a state secret,” Wenman wrote in Reason. After a prolonged battle, and temporary access to a very slow computer containing the scan, Wenman was finally given a USB drive with the full 3D image. No word on whether museum visits have declined precipitously.
The Busiest Government O ce Award: U.S. Department of Justice
In response to yet another FOIA request from Buzzfeed reporter Jason Leopold, this time for documents relating to the Mueller investigation, the Justice Department claimed it has as many as 19 billion responsive documents. This would mean the investigation had generated or collected more than 28 million documents each day, weekends included.
Although Mueller’s investigation lasted 22 months, the DOJ told Leopold it would take 2,300 years for it to review and produce the requested records for public disclosure. Leopold tweeted that he is exploring cryogenics as a way to review the records in the 4320s.
The Pointless Redaction Award: Mueller Report
Among the many blacked-out sections of the Mueller Report, a few redactions particularly stood out. The National Security Archive reported that the Justice Department redacted sections of public news stories that the Mueller Report quotes or cites. For example, the report cites a CNN headline as: “[Redacted] Says He Won’t Agree to Plea Deal” – but the CNN story is freely available online, and a quick Google search shows that the redacted words are “Roger Stone Associate.”
The Repeat Winner Award: Atlanta Mayor’s O ce
Back in 2018, then-Atlanta Mayor Kasim Reed earned a Foilie when he responded to a corruption probe by releasing 1.476 million documents, which he displayed in a 6-foot wall of boxes at a press conference, even though it turned out that many of the documents were entirely blank or fully redacted.
Mayor Reed is no longer in office, but his legacy lives on in Atlanta, where his former press secretary, Jenna Garland, was convicted this year for violating Georgia’s Open Records Act. The New York Times reported that she sought to frustrate journalists’ requests for records by directing city spokespeople to be “as unhelpful as possible,” “drag this out as long as possible” and “provide information in the most confusing format available.”
This is the first time that a public official has been charged or convicted under Georgia’s open records laws – and if recent history is a guide, it may not be the last.
The Unnecessary Fee Award: Horry County
Horry County, South Carolina, is the home of Myrtle Beach and its many dedicated beach-goers – and home to this year’s most unnecessary FOIA fee. The Myrtle Beach Sun News sent out requests to a number of local towns and public entities inquiring about payments made on behalf of public agencies to settle lawsuits in the last five years. Many of the towns in Horry County emailed the responsive documents back for free; some charged less than $50, but the county itself asked for $75,500.
When asked why the records cost so much, the county was unable to provide an exact accounting. Although its $75,500 demand is not the most outrageous total to grace the Foilies, Horry County’s response is award-worthy in light of how disproportionate it was compared to other agencies.
The Surveillance for You, Privacy for Us Award: Ring Inc.
EFF has written a lot about Amazon Ring surveillance doorbells, mostly aided by a torrent of great investigative reporting done by journalists using public records requests. The doorbells may be capturing the movements and conversations of neighbors and pedestrians in neighborhoods all across the United States, but Ring employees really value their privacy.
One researcher, Shreyas Gandlur, turned up an email from Ring to the Joliet City Police Department, asking them to redact the names and email addresses of any Ring employees that may show up in emails released through FOIA. “Ring employees have strong personal privacy interests,” wrote one Ring employee (whose name was redacted).
The About-Face on Facial Recognition Award: Immigration and Customs Enforcement
How hard is it to unmask records on face recognition? The Project on Government Oversight (POGO) discovered the many faces of Immigration and Customs Enforcement when it filed a request for information on the agency’s acquisition and use of face recognition technology.
ICE initially said it had only three redacted records – while failing to search one of its largest directorates, Enforcement and Removal Operations (ERO). After POGO successfully appealed, ICE responded that a query of ERO had been conducted and was being reviewed. Two months later, ICE said the request had been closed. After POGO reached out to the agency, ICE then contradicted itself, stating that the appeal was assigned and ERO would be queried. A follow-up request seeking updated information was met with silence. Accordingly, POGO has decided to face off with ICE in a different venue – the courtroom – after filing a lawsuit for the records.
The Hardest Department to FOIA Award: Chicago Police Department
In 2019, the Chicago Police Department was in the news multiple times for its inability to respond to even the most straightforward of public records requests.
After members of CPD raided the wrong home and traumatized a family, the family sought the body camera footage of the raid. The family believed that, in addition to showing the mistaken raid, it would also show police misconduct. Unfortunately, the CPD refused to turn over the footage.
In July, the CPD was forced to turn over documents after 14 months of stalling over a FOIA request for files on officers. After a legal opinion from the Illinois Attorney General, the CPD turned over a spreadsheet with more than 33,000 names dating back to the 1940s. Does the Chicago Police Department use search warrants? Of course it does, but you wouldn’t know it by its FOIA responses. Also in July, the CPD told Lucy Parsons Labs that it did not have any responsive documents for a request for all executed search warrants. After several months of fighting, the department finally released records about 11,000 search warrants issued over a five-year period. than 33,000 names dating back to the 1940s. Does the Chicago Police Department use search warrants? Of course it does, but you wouldn’t know it by its FOIA responses. Also in July, the CPD told Lucy Parsons Labs that it did not have any responsive documents for a request for all executed search warrants. After several months of fighting, the department finally
The ChooseYour-Own Exemption Award: Immigration and Customs Enforcement What’s an agency to do when it can’t identify a FOIA exemption to justify withholding records? In ICE’s case, it created its own.
As is common practice in immigration court, where there is no discovery process, attorney Jennifer Smith sought the immigration file of a client by filing a FOIA request with U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. USCIS told Smith that it had identified 18 records, but instead of producing those records, it mysteriously instructed Smith to request them from ICE.
Two years later, ICE finally responded that it was withholding the records to “deny fugitive alien FOIA requesters access to the FOIA process when the records could assist the alien in continuing to evade immigration enforcement efforts.”
While admittedly creative, there is no “fugitive disentitlement” exemption under FOIA. Moreover, this fake exemption countered exactly what immigration attorneys are trying to do: ensure that their clients won’t be considered fugitives. What’s an agency to do when it can’t identify a FOIA exemption to justify withholding records? In ICE’s case, it created its
As is common practice in immigration The ACLU of Colorado sued on Smith’s behalf, and in 2019, won the case.
The Anything Can Be Confi dential Award: U.S. Supreme Court
With the rise of outsourcing, no-bid contracts and elected officials seeking to reduce government spending, private businesses and government have never been more intertwined. Whether it be facial recognition technology or algorithms used to determine whether people receive public-assistance benefits, private companies and the technology they build are embedded in government’s daily work.
Yet in June, the U.S. Supreme Court made it much harder for the public to access records that involve private companies. In the case of Food Marketing Institute v. Argus Leader, the court interpreted a FOIA exemption broadly to allow the government to withhold records that a company considers confidential. Prior to the Supreme Court’s decision, private information could not be withheld from a FOIA requester unless the government or the business could show that making the information public would harm the business. But under the court’s June decision, the government can withhold any information a business deems private.
Confidential business information under FOIA is thus in the eye of the beholder, a result that will frustrate the public’s ability to understand how the government uses private companies’ products and technologies as part of its duties. Institute v. Argus Leader, the court interpreted a FOIA exemption broadly to allow the government to withhold records that a company considers confidential. Prior to the Supreme Court’s decision, private information could not be withheld from a FOIA requester unless the government or the business could show that making the information the government can withhold any information a business deems private.
The Resigned to Secrecy Award: Oregon Gov. Kate Brown
Oregon Gov. Kate Brown came into office with a stated goal of restoring trust after public records showed that her predecessor had ordered officials to delete thousands of his emails from state servers. One concrete step Brown took to improve transparency: creating a state public records advocate to push for more openness. The abrupt resignation of Oregon’s newly minted public records advocate, Ginger McCall, in September significantly undercut Brown’s stated commitment to transparency. In her resignation letter to Brown, McCall said that she received “meaningful pressure” from Brown’s office to advocate for the governor’s interest, rather than the public’s interest in having a transparent state government. Brown’s office at first denied McCall’s characterization and later chalked it up to a difference in views on McCall’s position.
McCall released notes of her meetings with Brown’s staffers that reflected an effort to make McCall’s position report directly to the governor’s staff, rather than being an independent advocate for the public. If there is any doubt, we believe McCall. She has long been a conscientious and honest advocate for the public’s right to know.
The Enemy of the Press Award: California Attorney General Xavier Becerra
Obtaining data about police misconduct under California’s public records law can be a crime, according to California Attorney General Xavier Becerra. That was the upshot of legal threats Becerra’s office made to two investigative reporters in March after they received data on police officer arrests and convictions in the past 10 years in response to a public records request filed with the Commission on Peace Officers Standards and Training.
According to a letter from Becerra’s office, the spreadsheet, which detailed officers’ criminal histories, was off-limits to the public and its mere possession by the reporters was a misdemeanor. The reporters didn’t back down and instead “formed an unprecedented collaboration to investigate the list, involving three dozen news outlets across the state.”
Becerra’s legal threats backfired spectacularly, leading to statewide comprehensive reporting about criminal investigations into police officers, including a searchable database. But Becerra should never have threatened the journalists in the first place, an authoritarian move that conflicts with his efforts these past years to position himself as the counterweight to President Donald Trump.
The Stupid, Dumb, F*cking Idiot Award for Political Interference: U.S. Department of the Interior
In 2019, reporters at Roll Call broke the news that the Interior Department had been allowing political officials to intervene in the processing of FOIA requests, either by stalling or potentially blocking the agency from fulfilling the request.
The reporting on this so-called “awareness review process” was based on FOIA documents obtained by Aaron Weiss of the Center for Western Priorities, an environmental organization based in Colorado. Among the scores of examples Weiss obtained was a stalled FOIA request from Buzzfeed’s Jason Leopold for all emails in which Interior press secretary Heather Swift used the terms “fucking,” “idiot,” “stupid” and “dumb.” (Swift had already been caught calling CNN’s René Marsh a “fucking idiot” in an email.)
“If political appointees get to decide what the public gets to see, it completely undermines the letter and spirit of FOIA,” Weiss says.
The Foilies were compiled by Electronic Frontier Foundation senior investigative researcher Dave Maass, staff attorneys Aaron Mackey and Saira Hussain, Frank Stanton Fellow Naomi Gilens and policy analyst Matthew Guariglia. Illustrations by EFF designer Caitlyn Crites. For more on our work, visit eff.org.
THE TIES THAT BIND Haley McCormick works at the intersection of artisanal trade and art
BY MATTHEW MOYER T he last time Haley McCormick showcased her artwork in Orlando, it was a 2018 program of her short films – ethereal, glitchedout dreamscapes with an organic, analog texture and complementary soundtracks by soundscapers like Heart of Palm and Chelsea Bridge. The program included her most infamous work, Dancer, a film that repurposed and distorted imagery from Buffalo 66, almost getting her sued by one Vincent Gallo.
Two years later, and after stints living in Alaska and Chicago, McCormick returns with an exhibition of art in a very different and tactile medium: fiber. McCormick’s new artistic obsession began out of economic necessity. McCormick was looking for a job after returning to her hometown of Daytona Beach after leaving Alaska, and spotted the Pioneer Fiber Mill in New Smyrna while driving. She spontaneously walked in to inquire about employment. Mill operators Steve and J.G. Williams were happy to take her on as an employee, encouraging her deep explorations into the textile craft.
And thus began both gainful employment and an enduring artistic appreciation for the process of making fiber. “It immediately changed how much beauty I see in materials,” remembers McCormick. “The process of making fiber is so intimate and beautiful. It’s structural, but a very free kind of structure, and I wanted to highlight that.”
McCormick’s work exists at an intriguing confluence of artisanal craft and conceptual installation, with both sides given equal weight. Gigantic clusters and tangles of fiber – all made at the mill – will fill the room, offering a myriad of textures and colors and touch. “There’s so much that you can tell from one piece of fiber,” explains McCormick, “you can pretty much see the whole biological makeup of the animal, how it was raised, what it eats. I find that so fascinating and I wanted people to see that.”
There’s also an underlying statement in Fiber about the importance of being able to create beautiful things and useful things with your own hands, even in the age of automation and virtual everything. “Making films, I was always in total control,” says McCormick. “If I didn’t like something, I could just edit it. But fiber is exactly what it is. You can make it different but you really can’t change the compounds that make it up. Working with fiber has taught me patience.”
When viewing McCormick’s fiber constructs, we’re momentarily reminded of Andy Warhol’s Silver Clouds or even a deconstructed Christo, until we’re jolted back to reality: These sculptures and landscapes of fiber could easily have been a shirt for wearing, a sheet for sleeping on, a towel to dry our hands. And with familiar textures, no doubt each person will respond differently, spurred on by their own unique memories.
But McCormick wants to keep the exhibition firmly grounded in the realities of fiber making: “I’ll have sound sampling from the mill in the background. I want them to hear the process, I want them to see the process, touch the process, smell it. If I could convince people to eat the fiber … (McCormick laughs). I want it to be the full experience.”
arts@orlandoweekly.com FIBER 8 p.m. Friday, March 20 Downtown Arts Collective, 643 Lexington Ave. 407-454-7926 downtownartscollective.com POSTPONED
DUE TO THE COVID-19 OUTBREAK, THIS EVENT IS POSTPONED. CHECK OUR ONLINE CALENDAR FOR OTHER CANCELLATIONS.
Haley McCormick
BY SETH KUBERSKY
On Saturday, I visited Universal Orlando; on Sunday, I attended one of the last live shows before Central Florida’s theaters shut down indefinitely
UNIVERSAL STUDIOS RESORT ORLANDO | PHOTO BY SETH KUBERSKY
Well, that escalated quickly.
It may seem like a lifetime ago now, but it was actually only last week when I naively reported that the accelerating COVID-19 pandemic couldn’t derail the debut of Disney’s new Mickey & Minnie’s Runaway Railway ride. Of course, barely 24 hours after that column hit newsstands, the dominoes began to fall faster than elevators in the Tower of Terror: First Disneyland announced an unprecedented extended closure of its theme parks, and then Walt Disney World and Universal Orlando followed suit hours later, in the most chaotic day I’ve experienced in my decades as an attractions observer. By the end of the week, even SeaWorld – which had initially responded to the crisis with a Florida resident “staycation” special – reversed course and planned to shut down, leaving Fun Spot and the Icon Park observation wheel as virtually the only attractions still operating in Orlando.
Assuming you’re a sane person, you probably didn’t hear the news about the resorts’ imminent operational pause and instantly grab your MagicBand for a last lap on your favorite ride. (If you did, you’ve probably got your own YouTube channel.) As a professional travel journalist living at the industry’s epicenter, I felt obligated to document such a historic moment. For the record, I’m healthy, I don’t have close contact with anyone elderly or immunocompromised, and I washed my hands obsessively between every interaction.
My first stop was at Disney’s Animal Kingdom, where even a global crisis couldn’t knock the wait time at Flight of Passage below an hour. I spent the day checking in with the park’s cast members, human and otherwise, and was repeatedly ensured that the full-time veterinary staff would continue caring for their charges throughout the closure and had months’ worth of feed and supplies stockpiled, including acres of greenery and coolers of produce. Although Mickey seemed surprised that I declined his hug, preferring a fist bump, most DAK employees I encountered expressed confidence that the Mouse would take care of them through the crisis.
In contrast, when I visited Universal Orlando for the premature finale of their 25th annual Mardi Gras celebration, conflicting management messages had staff confused as to whether or not they should show up for work on Monday. Despite the backstage chaos, Universal’s team members did a remarkable job of creating an eerie illusion of normalcy; at least for a few minutes, the young man I watched receiving his magic wand at Ollivanders wasn’t thinking about coronavirus, and neither was I. But to be frank, I bolted before the evening’s Big Easy parade, having decided that rubbing elbows with strangers for plastic beads wasn’t in my best interest.
Publicly, Universal and Disney have both said that they plan on reopening their parks by the beginning of April, but my gut says their gates will remain closed for longer than that. At Epcot alone, Disney has terminated the contracts of veteran World Showcase performers (including Japan’s Matsuzira drummers and the British Revolution band) and abruptly suspended their cultural exchange and college programs, forcing thousands of young workers to vacate their housing on four days’ notice.
To me, those don’t sound like the actions of a company that thinks they’ll be back to business as usual in a fortnight. On Sunday afternoon, instead of returning again to the parks, I attended one of the final live performances to be held before Central Florida’s theaters shut down indefinitely. Ordinarily, a middlebrow movie adaptation like 9 to 5: The Musical wouldn’t be high on my must-see list, but the closing matinee of Athens Theatre’s spirited production turned out to be exactly what I needed before heading into semi-isolation. A monumental mod scenic design by Tori Oakes, illuminated by Chad Erickson like a massive ’70s light organ, lent this DeLand troupe better production values than half the Broadway tours I’ve seen at Dr. Phillips. And the enormous ensemble – led by Laurie Sullivan, Bernadette Siudock and Grace Boynton in the roles originated by Lily Tomlin, Dolly Parton and Jane Fonda – gave a heartfelt final performance to a modest but appreciative audience.
I spoke with Frank Ramirez, the show’s director and resident production stage manager of the Athens, over what was might be my last meal in public for the month. The venue went dark after Sunday’s closing bow, canceling rehearsals until at least March 24, although they hope to still open their season closer, Mary Poppins, on April 17 as scheduled. “It’s impacting us all personally as well. We can’t have work things on our minds, so we’re allowing time for everyone to get their lives in order and re-evaluate,” Ramirez says, adding that they’ve secured permission to live-stream their production if necessary. “We’re taking it week by week.”
So say we all.
skubersky@orlandoweekly.com
