Why is the recording policy being kept secret?

In January, the new University Recording Policy, which prohibits recording in contexts “when privacy would be reasonably expected,” took effect. That’s news to the Class of 2030, which has no reasonable way to learn about this policy.

That’s because Princeton didn’t publish the policy as part of its Rights, Rules, Responsibilities website, nor was it linked to on the broader University Policy website or on the Community Standards website. And new students were not informed about the policy during any Orientation events.

So, Class of 2030, if you’ve already recorded something — a lecture, meeting, or conversation where your counterparts had a reasonable expectation of privacy (whatever that means) — I’d warn you about the consequences of your actions, but those aren’t clear either.

While the University isn’t bound by constitutional protections for due process, the deprivation of any reasonable chance to learn about the recording policy raises serious fairness concerns. It also works against what is surely the University’s intended outcome with this policy: to deter any violations of it from happening in the first place. Princeton must end the secrecy around the recording policy by including it in Rights, Rules, Responsibilities and distributing it by mass email to all those to whom it applies. 

What does it mean to be prosecuted for a rule violation you didn’t know you were committing? Members of the Class of 2030 have had no reasonable opportunity to become familiar with the recording policy, undercutting community members’ understanding of the conduct expected of them and the University’s ability to enforce discipline.

In an email to The Daily Princetonian, University spokesperson Michael Hotchkiss wrote, “there are a number of additional policies, including the Recording Policy, that apply to members of the Princeton community that are not included in RRR. [The recording policy] resides on the website of the Vice President for Campus Life. It is our expectation that members of the University community, including new students, familiarize themselves with all University policies.”

The policy indeed resides on the website of the vice president for campus life. To find it, simply visit campuslife.princeton.edu, scroll down, click “view all news,” scroll down, click “Recording Policy and FAQ,” and read.

This convoluted and unreasonable route to find the recording policy is the only way to do so. The University’s annual email to students before the academic year, which instructs them to read Rights, Rules, Responsibilities and the alcohol policy, made no mention of it this year. And, unlike Orientation events dedicated to the alcohol policy, free expression, and other campus regulations, no Orientation events informed members of the Class of 2030 about this policy’s existence. The Class of 2030, in essence, has no chance to follow the recording policy, and thus little hope of avoiding being disciplined under it.

That should be reason enough for the University to change its approach to recording policy publicization. But Princeton has made it clear through its actions that it is not concerned with due process as an intrinsic value.

Especially when it comes to the recording policy, though, Princeton has a strong instrumental interest in publicizing its policy. The recording policy is only useful insofar as it acts as a deterrent to recording private conversations in the first place. That is, once a student records a lecture and sends it to a Republican state lawmaker, igniting a political firestorm — what happened at Texas A&M last fall — no level of retroactive prosecution can retract the recording.

This sort of situation, presumably, is the core justification for the recording policy. The University minimizes its risk by pursuing a policy of deterrence toward recording, which requires a clear and public approach to recording. However, while the efficacy of deterrence policy in general is questionable, if the University doesn’t want students to do something, it should tell them not to do it.

“We appreciate your inquiry and concern about awareness of the policy,” Hotchkiss wrote in his email. “In response, we are adding the policy to the University Policy website and a link from Community Standards page of the ODUS website.”

The embarrassing nature of this aside — why did it take an email from me to make this happen? — the policy being published retroactively on these websites does little to benefit the Class of 2030, who are expected to have already familiarized themselves with University policy by now. And if future students are not informed about the policy in Orientation, it is unlikely they will encounter, understand, and follow it by its presence on these websites alone.

In denying new students — and faculty and staff, for that matter — the right to know what regulations they are subject to, Princeton makes violations likely and will end up unfairly investigating or disciplining community members who were unaware of the policy’s existence in the first place.

The interests of the community and the University alike would be served by a more transparent recording policy. For the sake of community due process and the recording policy itself, the University must stop keeping it a secret.

Isaac Barsoum hasn’t been prosecuted for recording policy violations and wishes you the same luck — you’re going to need it. He is a junior Politics major and associate Opinion editor from Charlotte, N.C. who can be reached at isaac[at]dailyprincetonian.com.