Suited to Dissent

“Yes, please,” I journaled after reading the announcement of Cindy Cohn’s memoir. Although I was aware of her illustrious career at the Electronic Frontier Foundation, I felt a stronger connection to the attorney as host of the excellent “How to Fix the Internet” podcast. That podcast necessarily focuses on its guests, though, so I was excited to learn more about the woman firsthand.

As satisfying as it is to read that facts of Cohn’s influence on critical moments in tech history, it’s even better when presented through such a personal perspective. Cohn relates not just the literal trials of her work but also the figurative trials of her personal life and the interplay of the two. This includes a few pithy gems on work-life balance, made specifically for jobs where progress is slow and uncertain.¹

Having this place of solace coupled with an identity outside law and technology has been critical to my ability to keep doing the work, even when it’s hard and we don’t win, or have our wins snatched away. I can put down the weight of being a woman in a male-dominated world as well as someone who needs to constantly be on top of all the facts, laws, and strategies. Community is my refueling place, and turning off my brain and just joining in to the song, even if a bit off-key, is one of the ways that I’ve been able to stay in these fights for the long run.

(And of course, I can’t help but feel ingratiated to a fellow music nerd.)

The sincerity on display would be impressive coming from any writer, but it’s especially noteworthy from someone whose work depends on appearance, confidence, and reputation. One wonders whether being so transparent about her fears and dreams (really, about her humanity) made Cohn feel professionally vulnerable. Maybe stepping away from the EFF was as much a prerequisite to publication as a motivation for it.

Now, my bookshelf is not wanting for passionate advocates in the field of technology. Separate from the likes of Schneier or Snowden², though, Cohn was not raised in technology. That hasn’t made her less devoted to the principles, of course, but her optimism comes from a place that is arguably more altruistic and demonstrably more adversarial. In that way, her advocacy tracks much more closely to that of Lessig and Stevenson.

Cohn’s distinctive upbringing is part of what makes Privacy’s Defender so valuable: she isn’t just preaching to the choir; she’s bringing her unique expertise to bear in ways that are highly-relevant yet poorly-understood. From National Security Letters and state secrets privilege to summary judgements and jawboning, the memoir explains the nuance behind a ton of familiar-sounding legal concepts.

There’s a fine line between offering reassurance and enabling complacency, but Cohn dances it adroitly. One the one hand, she’s living proof that there really are people “fighting the good fight.” On the other, her work only makes sense in the context of those whose bravery is being tested. She’s a defender in the truest sense. We should all aspire to need counsel from folks like Cindy.