I wasn't particularly impressed. I had helped edit and revise that
policy when I worked for the information-technology office before I
earned my Ph.D., and I knew that neither Tor nor any similar program
had existed when the policy was first written. I also knew that the
provisions in question were vague.
My visitors next produced page after page of logs detailing my
apparent use of Tor. While I couldn't dispute most of the details in
the logs, they seemed inaccurate. For example, the technician said I
had been using Tor earlier that morning. In fact, I had been at
Wal-Mart that morning looking for a good deal on an HDTV; I had reached
my office only about five minutes earlier.
More important, the logs did not prove any wrongdoing on my part.
All they demonstrated was that I, like thousands of others around the
world, had installed and infrequently used Tor. In my case, of course,
there was no wrongdoing.
Nonetheless, my visitors made two requests: that I stop using Tor, and that I avoid covering it in class.
Having been on the administrative end of academic technology, I
appreciate the difficulties facing the information-technology staff. No
one pats you on the back if nothing goes wrong, but if something does
-- if a virus or worm sweeps through the campus's network
infrastructure, or someone hijacks some computers to churn out spam --
you are off everyone's Christmas-card list. The last thing my former
colleagues needed was some smarmy faculty member spouting off about
academic freedom and threatening to demonstrate Tor to 100-plus
students each semester.
Their job is to protect the network that allows me to do my job: to
teach classes that are mostly or entirely online, and to conduct
research. If they weren't here as the first or even only line of
defense against the unscrupulous elements of our technological society,
my university would cease to function. It's as simple as that.
Furthermore, I do not rely heavily on Tor, or even think much about
it outside the context of my courses. I find all that routing makes it
slow to use, even with the superfast connection I have at work.
But it is being used all around the world, by people in countries
that restrict their access to information, by corporate
whistle-blowers, and by digital-rights activists. It's even being used
by average people like me, as a way to keep innocuous and personal
online activities private.
So in the head-on collision between my appreciation of the role IT
staff members play on my campus and my understanding of the role I have
to play for my students, my need for academic freedom won. I found
myself lecturing my three visitors into near catatonia about the uses
of Tor.
Finally, they shook my hand, thanked me for talking with them,
reminded me that I was probably violating the responsible-use policy,
and left. They had bigger game to catch: the other Tor user on the
campus.
A moment later, I heard another knock on my door. One of the
detectives had come back to ask if I would reconsider my position. I
told him that while I would think about giving up Tor, I honestly felt
that this was a clear case of academic freedom, and I could not bow to
external pressure. I reminded him that Tor is a perfectly legal,
open-source program that serves a wide variety of legitimate needs
around the world.
He nodded and left. Feeling an odd mixture of righteous indignation, patriotism, and dread, I closed the door.
5:35:45 PM 
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