The program ended almost immediately thereafter, so Amy Goodman did not have the opportunity to inform him that, no, Jonathan Landay, to most of the audience, who are not already thoroughly steeped in intelligence matters, national security, and communications anonymity protocols by dint of their careers; no, in light of the collection of all metadata, the complicity (or, statutorily-mandated vulnerability) of every private telecom brand, the automatic storage of all things encrypted, the privacy-right-vitiating third parties we've permitted to become the intermediaries of nearly all communication, the global positioning (and otherwise broadcasting) chips we carry around with us, the government hacking of journalists' communications, the impotence of the courts, the outright abdication of the congress, a spectrum full of "journalists" howling for the taste of the scandalous, treasonous blood of one of their own, and the unending tapestry of oversights in oversight; under the droning, hovering threat of the fiery justice which due process of law accords Americans deemed enemy of the state (not to mention countless others -- call them Unamericans -- not entitled to such discerning treatment); no, Jonathan Landay, it is not obvious what one can do to try to protect oneself.
Is there a class on that at journalism school?
I, for one, cannot imagine how I might go about trying anonymously to get in touch with, say, Jonathan Landay, Jeremy Scahill, Glenn Greenwald, Matt Taibbi, Democracy Now, or Wikileaks, in the case that my whistle weren't holding water and I didn't want The Man to know. It might involve a visit to the library . . . or maybe a different library than that one I would refer to using the specific article (although, on reflection, I would likely refer to any one other library also using that specific article). Or the United States Postal Service, which would still carry letters along with that bundle of advertising if there were any letters. Come to think of it, I believe that the reasonable expectation of privacy does, still, inhere in the paper and ink communication sealed in an envelope and sent via the stewardship of that august organization (but, w.r.t. analogous "metadata", see -ed.), even as it has faded to phantasm near everywhere else (and believing in phantasms is, obviously, not "reasonable," . . . Ergo. . . )! But for how long? Maybe Goodman, Landay and Greenwald would deign to look into that, and confirm. All of you would-be leakers: Don't drop that sweaty envelope into the mail room of the building where you're working, and stop exhibiting critical thought, conscience and initiative where your friends, family, coworkers, and familiar strangers can see you.
In other news, the Federal Bureau of Prisons denied an application for the compassionate release from prison of former civil rights attorney Lynne Stewart for treatment of her metastatic stage-IV cancer because her "health is improving." So, I guess they're curing cancer in the federal pen, these days. Glory.