Mitnick's Digital Divide
      ------------------------

      It's the year 2000, and Kevin Mitnick is going free. The problem is, he'll
      be trapped in 1991.
      
       By Kevin Poulsen  January 12, 2000
      
       On Friday, January 21, hacker Kevin Mitnick will go free after nearly five
      years behind bars. But when he walks out the gates of the Lompoc federal
      correctional institution in California, he'll be burdened with a crippling
      handicap: a court order barring him for up to three years from possessing or
      using computers, "computer-related" equipment, software, and anything that
      could conceivably give him access to the Internet.
      
      These anti-computer restrictions are even more ridiculous today than when I
      faced them upon leaving federal custody in June, 1996.
      
       In the wired world of 2000, you'd be hard pressed to find a job flipping
      burgers that didn't require access to a computerized cash register, and
      three years from now McDonald's applicants will be expected to know a little
      Java and a smattering of C++.
      
       Since Mitnick's arrest in 1995, the Internet has grown from a hopeful ditty
      to a deafening orchestral roar rattling the windows of society. The
      importance of computer access in America has been acknowledged by the White
      House in separate initiatives to protect technological infrastructure from
      "cyberterrorists," and to bridge the so-called digital divide between
      information haves and have-nots. "We must connect all of our citizens to the
      Internet," vowed President Clinton last month.
      
      He was not referring to Kevin Mitnick.
      
      Mitnick, dubbed the "World's Most Notorious Hacker" by Guinness, pleaded
      guilty on March 26 to seven felonies, and admitted to cracking computers at
      cellular telephone companies, software manufacturers, ISPs, and
      universities, as well as illegally downloading proprietary software. Though
      he's never been accused of trying to make money from his crimes, he's been
      in and out of trouble for his nonprofit work since he was a teenager.
      
      So, the theory goes, keeping Mitnick away from computers will deprive a
      known recidivist of the instruments of crime and set him on the road to
      leading a good and law-abiding life.
      
      I've heard that theory from prosecutors, judges and my (then) probation
      officer. They all compare computers to lock picks, narcotics, and guns--
      everything but a ubiquitous tool used by a quarter of all Americans and
      nearly every industry.
      
      Mitnick, we should believe, will be tempted in the next year or so to crack
      some more computers and download some more software. But when the crucial
      moment comes for him to commit a felony that could land him in prison for a
      decade, his fingers will linger indecisively over the keyboard as he
      realizes, "Wait! I can't use a computer! My probation officer will be
      pissed!"
      
      The fact is, if Mitnick chooses crime, he won't be deterred by the 11 months
      in prison that a technical supervised release violation could carry. These
      conditions only prevent him from making legitimate use of computers.
      
      Mitnick's rehabilitation is up to him. But the system shouldn't throw up
      obstructions by keeping him away from the mainstream, on the sidelines, and
      out of the job market. His probation officer will have the power to ease his
      restrictions, perhaps by allowing him to get a computer job with the
      informed consent of his employer. That would be a good start.
      
      January 21 will be a happy day for Mitnick, his family, and friends. But
      getting out of prison after a long stretch carries challenges too. Nobody is
      served by stranding the hacker on the wrong side of the digital divide.