Murphy’s law
IT IS unfortunate that government MPs chose this week’s debate on the amendment bill dealing with the interception of communications to berate the cellular networks for sending a “battery of lobbyists” to resist its promulgation.
African National Congress MP Luwellyn Landers and Deputy Justice Minister Johnny de Lange complained bitterly that the objections raised by this “formidable body” of individuals had delayed the bill’s progress into law by more than 18 months, with Landers going so far as to warn that new regulations may be required to prevent lobbyists from manipulating the parliamentary process in future.
Apart from their disturbingly narrow view of what qualifies as legitimate means to influence the content of new legislation — there is no indication that any of the lobbyists threatened or bribed anyone, after all — raising the issue in the way they did serves to distract attention from fundamental flaws in the bill. Did it not occur to the MPs that the cellular companies’ persistence may be a reflection of their concern over the implications for their businesses, and the country, should the bill become law?
The amendment — full name the Regulation of Interception of Communications and Provision of Communication-related Information Amendment Bill — demands that the network providers register all users of cellphones in SA, including prepaid customers and foreign visitors roaming on the domestic networks, at great cost. The intention is laudable, as it so often is when legislators pass bad laws: to make it more difficult for criminals to use cellphones to plan and commission criminal acts.
Our parliamentary representatives would not be doing their jobs if they did not attempt to reduce SA’s appalling crime rate by passing new laws or tightening existing ones, and few would object even if there was a side-effect of reduced convenience or higher costs, as long as these were within reason.
However, there is a point at which the obstacles introduced by such measures start to defeat the original purpose of the activity they are attempting to regulate, and that is what the cellular companies’ lobbyists have been trying so hard to impress upon legislators in this instance.
Keeping track of each and every cellphone user is not impossible in an efficient and well-resourced first- world society, although it would be extremely difficult even under such ideal circumstances. In SA, however, where a significant proportion of the more than 20-million users of prepaid cellular services live in remote rural villages or informal settlements and do not have identity documents, verifying the name and address of every user of every SIM card that has been issued is nigh on impossible. Faced with large fines for getting it wrong, the cellular companies will have little choice but to cut off thousands of poor South Africans who cannot easily be traced and properly identified.
Foreign visitors already complain about pedantic immigration officials and long queues at customs when entering SA; forcing them to join yet another line to register their cellphones is going to go down like a lead balloon. But the most compelling argument against this bill is that, even if everyone involved does everything in their power to implement it properly, it is still highly unlikely to have any discernible effect on crime.
Criminals are disturbingly clever; as fast as the cellular companies track down all those millions of legitimate PIN cards, documents will be forged, identities stolen and handsets smuggled across the borders or doctored to disguise their true origins.
Like the still-controversial clampdown on gun ownership, there is a real likelihood that this draconian piece of legislation will be easily evaded by those it is ostensibly targeting, while severely compromising the legitimate activities of law-abiding citizens.