Is the Government Reading Your Email?


The National Security Agency is the primary cryptographic and signals-intelligence agency of the United States. To spy on foreign communications, it operates data collection platforms in more than 50 countries and uses airplanes and submarines, ships and satellites, specially modified trucks, and cleverly disguised antennas. It has managed to break the cryptographic systems of most of its targets and prides itself on sending first-rate product to the president of the United States.

Inside the United States, the NSA’s collection is regulated by the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act, passed in 1978 to provide a legal framework for intercepting communications related to foreign intelligence or terrorism where one party is inside the United States and might be considered a “U.S. person.”

Three bits of terminology: The NSA “collects on” someone, with the preposition indicating the broad scope of the verb. Think of a rake pushing leaves into a bin. The NSA intercepts a very small percentage of the communications it collects. At the NSA, to “intercept” is to introduce to the collection process an analyst, who examines a leaf that has appeared in his or her computer bin. (An analyst could use computer software to assist here, but the basic distinction the NSA makes is that the actual interception requires intent and specificity on behalf of the interceptor.) A “U.S. person” refers to a U.S. citizen, a legal resident of the United States, or a corporation or business legally chartered inside the United States.

So the big question everyone wonders is: does the NSA read my e-mail? Based on the public statements of the former director of the National Security Agency, Justice Department attorneys, and others involved in NSA operations—as well as confidential information provided to the authors and verified independently by officials read in to the programs—here is how to tell if the NSA spies on you:

1. If you regularly call people in Afghanistan, Pakistan, or Yemen, your telephone records have probably passed through an NSA computer. Most likely, however, if you’ve been calling rug merchants or relatives, no one at the NSA knew your name. (A computer program sanitizes the actual identifying information.) Depending on the time, date, location, and contextual factors related to the call, a record may not have been created.

2. If you’ve sent an e-mail from an IP address that has been used by bad guys in the past (IP addresses can be spoofed), your e-mail’s metadata—the hidden directions that tell the Internet where to send it (that is, the To and From lines, the subject line, the length, and the type of e-mail) probably passed through a server. The chances of an analyst or a computer actually reading the content of an e-mail are very slim.

3. If you are or were a lawyer for someone formally accused of terrorism, there is a good chance that the NSA has or had—but could not or cannot access (at least not anymore)—your telephone billing records. (N.B.: A Senate Select Committee on Intelligence report notes that the FISA Amendments Act does not require material erroneously collected to be destroyed.)

4. If you work for a member of the “Defense Industrial Base” on sensitive projects and your company uses Verizon and AT&T, your e-mail has likely been screened by NSA computers for malware.

5. Before 2007, if you, as an American citizen, worked overseas in or near a war zone, there is a small chance that you were “collected on” by a civilian NSA analyst or a member of the NSA’s Central Security Service (the name given to the military service elements that make up a large part of the NSA’s workforce).

6. If you, from September 2001 to roughly April 2004, called or sent e-mail to or from regions associated with terrorism and used American Internet companies to do so, your transaction records (again, without identifying information) were likely collected by your telecommunications company and passed to the NSA. The records were then analyzed, and there is a tiny chance that a person or a computer read them or sampled them. The NSA would ask telecommunications companies for tranches of data that correlated to particular communities of interest, and then used a variety of classified and unclassified techniques to predict, based on their analysis, who was likely to be associated with terrorism. This determination required at least one additional and independent extraneous piece of evidence.

7. There is a chance that the NSA passed this data to the FBI for further investigation. There is a small chance that the FBI acted on this information.

8. If you define “collection” in the broadest sense possible, there is a good chance that if the NSA wanted to obtain your transactional information in real time and knew your direct identity (or had a rough idea of who you are), they can do so, provided that they can prove to a FISA judge within seventy-two hours that there is probable cause to believe you are a terrorist or associated with a terrorist organization.

9. If the NSA receives permission from a judge to collect on a corporation or a charity that may be associated with terrorism, and your company, which is entirely separate from the organization in question, happens to share a location with it (either because you’re in the same building or have contracted with the company to share Internet services), there is a chance that the NSA incidentally collects your work e-mail and phone calls. It is very hard for the agency to map IP addresses to their physical locations and to completely segregate parts of corporate telephone networks. When this happens, Congress and the Justice Department are notified, and an NSA internal compliance unit makes a record of the “overcollect.”

10. If any of your communications were accidentally or incidentally collected by the NSA, they probably still exist somewhere, subject to classified minimization requirements. (The main NSA signals-intelligence database is code-named PINWALE.) This is the case even after certain collection activities became illegal with the passage of the 2007 FISA Amendments Act, the governing framework for domestic collection. The act does not require the NSA to destroy the data.

11. If you are of Arab descent and attend a mosque whose imam was linked through degrees of association with Islamic charities considered to be supporters of terrorism, NSA computers probably analyzed metadata from your telephone communications and e-mail.

12. Your data might have been intercepted or collected by Russia, China, or Israel if you traveled to those countries. The FBI has quietly found and removed transmitters from several Washington, D.C.–area cell phone towers that fed all data to wire rooms at foreign embassies.

13. The chances, if you are not a criminal or a terrorist, that an analyst at the NSA listened to one of your telephone conversations or read one of your e-mail messages are infinitesimally small given the technological challenges associated with the program, not to mention the lack of manpower available to sort through your irrelevant communications. If an unintentional collection occurred (an overcollect), it would be deleted and not stored in any database.

What safeguards exist today?

From what we could figure out, only three dozen or so people inside the NSA have the authority to read the content of FISA-derived material, all of which is now subject to a warrant. Can the NSA share FISA product on U.S. persons with other countries? By law it cannot and does not. (The FBI can, and does.) What is the size of the compliance staff that monitors domestic collection? Four or five people, depending on the budget cycle. How many people outside the NSA are privy to the full details of the program? More than one thousand. How can you find out if you’ve been accidentally or incidentally surveilled? You can’t. You can sue, but the government will invoke a state secrets privilege, and judges will probably agree—even when you can prove without any secret evidence that there is probable cause to believe that you were surveilled.

The NSA’s general counsel’s office regularly reviews the “target folders”—the identities of those under surveillance—to make sure the program complied with the instruction to surveil those reasonably assumed to have connections to al-Qaeda. They do this by sampling a number of the folders at random. How do we know the program isn’t expanding right now, pushing the boundaries of legality, spying not just on suspected terrorists but on American dissidents? We don’t. But if it is, and over a thousand people are involved, how much longer can that secret last?

Adapted from Deep State: Inside the Government Secrecy Industry, by Marc Ambinder and D.B. Grady. Grady is a regular contributor to mental_floss.

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job secrets
14 Secrets of TSA Agents
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John Moore/Getty Images

Last year, more than 964 million people boarded airplanes departing or arriving within the United States. Barring any special security clearance, virtually all of them were filtered through the Transportation Security Administration (TSA), a federally operated branch charged with screening passengers to ensure they’re complying with the rules of safe air travel.

Some travelers believe the TSA’s policies are burdensome and ineffectual; others acknowledge that individual employees are doing their best to conform to a frequently confusing, ever-changing set of procedures. We asked some former TSA officers about their experiences, and here’s what they had to say about life in blue gloves.


Maine coon cat stepping out of a carrier

According to Jason Harrington, who spent six years at O’Hare Airport as a Transportation Security Officer (TSO), rogue felines have created more havoc and confusion than any suspected criminal. “Cats are a nightmare,” he says. “They don’t want to come out of their carriers, they scratch and claw, and they don’t come when you call them.” A cat that’s made a break for it and who hasn’t been patted down to check for weapons is technically a security breach, which a TSA supervisor could use as justifiable cause to shut down an entire terminal.

Dogs, however, are no problem. “A pat down on a dog amounts to going over and petting them,” Harrington says. “That’s actually pleasant.”


Because TSOs are usually in close proximity to passengers, some checkpoints develop a vocabulary of code words that allows them to speak freely without offending anyone. “Code talk for attractive females was the most common,” Harrington says. An employee might say “hotel papa” to alert others to an appealing traveler heading their way—the “h” is for “hot.” Others might assign a code number, like 39, and call it out. Harrington was also informed by a supervisor that he could signal for a prolonged screening for an annoying passenger if Harrington told him that the traveler was “very nice.”


Any passenger coming through with an elaborate hairdo—either carefully braided hair or the kind of up-do found on women headed for a wedding—means additional inspection will be required, because piled-up hair can conceivably conceal a weapon.

“Just about anything can set off an anomaly in the head area, from braids to a scrunchie to a barrette to a bad hair day,” Harrington says. “And those body scanners are especially fussy when it comes to the head, giving false positives there more than any other area.”


A tired passenger in an airport

“Tina”—a former TSO in the northeast who prefers not to use her real name—says that travelers taking evening flights are typically more cooperative than morning passengers. “People are actually much nastier when they’re flying out in the morning,” she says. “The really late-night travelers are the best ones to be around.” (Also on Tina’s naughty list: business travelers. “They’re generally meaner.”)


Because public criticism of the TSA is so pervasive, Harrington has found that many employees stretch the truth about where they work when asked. “If I had to admit it, I’d say I was working for the Department of Homeland Security,” he says. “When I made mention of that on Facebook, I got a ton of officers who said they did the same thing.”


Airport security personnel monitoring an x-ray monitor

That giant wheel of cheese you’re bringing back from the holidays? It’s going to cause a lot of agitation among employees monitoring the x-ray machine. “A block of cheese is indistinguishable from C4,” Harrington says. “There is no difference on the screen. Meats, too. All organic products look orange on the display and similar to explosives.”


When a passenger enters a full-body scanner, the device operator hits a button to tell the unit whether it’s a he or she. It makes a difference, since a female passenger’s anatomy would raise a red flag when the machine expects to see male-only parts, and vice versa. If a person's gender isn’t easily ascertained on sight and a TSO guesses, a pair of breasts could initiate a delay. “The machines detect things under clothes, and if it doesn’t match what’s been pressed, it means a pat down,” Harrington says.


TSOs typically get assigned to different stations (ticket taker, x-ray operator, shouting-at-you-to-take-your-shoes-off officer) at the security checkpoint, and never for very long: 30 minutes is typically the limit before a new officer is brought in. According to Tina, the revolving schedule is to avoid employee error. “After 30 minutes, you may begin to miss things,” she says.


Harrington’s security checkpoint had a code word for passengers who “opted out,” or refused to submit to the full-body scanners—they were “tulips,” and they proved to be an annoyance.

“It slows down the whole operation and a lot of guys would hate it,” he says. “Now that it’s millimeter [radio] waves and people still opt out, they get annoyed, thinking the passenger doesn’t even know what they’re opting out of.”


A TSA agent looking at a traveller's documents
John Moore/Getty Images

Policies can vary by airport, but generally, security officers sitting up front and checking tickets are looking for irregularities in your identification: If something causes them to be suspicious, they’ll write something on your ticket that would prompt a more thorough inspection. “They’ll also write their badge number and initials,” Tina says, “so the airline knows they’ve been through security when they board.”


According to Tina, turnover rates for TSOs can be high, and that’s due in large part to the perpetual stress of preparing for a hazardous situation. “In 10 months’ time, we went through active shooter training three times,” she says. “Another time, we were told there was a credible threat against the airport and not to wear our uniforms to or from work.”


“The most common complaint [from TSOs] is when passengers ask them to change their gloves before a pat down,” Harrington says,” because we change them all the time. We might have changed them just before getting to someone and passengers will still insist they use new ones in front of their face.”


TSOs undergo regular training and performance reviews where they're expected to simulate a screening in a private room for supervisors. After two years, the probationary period is over, and employees are generally set. “They’d call it being a ‘made’ man or woman,” Harrington says, referring to the mafia term for acceptance. “It’s really hard to get fired at that point. The only way to lose your job would be to commit a crime.”


As federal employees, TSOs don’t enjoy any perks from airlines: Accepting a gift could be cause for termination, according to Tina. “But there’s a loophole,” she says. “If you’re friends with a pilot or have a personal relationship with an airline employee, you can accept it.”

A version of this story originally ran in 2016.

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15 Things You Should Know About Ruth Bader Ginsburg
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Pablo Martinez Monsivais-Pool/Getty Images

“She has this soft little tiny voice, and she can say really devastating things in that quiet voice.”
—NPR's Nina Totenberg

In the middle of one especially eventful Supreme Court session over four years ago—June 24, 2013, to be exact—Ruth Bader Ginsburg opened her mouth and began to speak. In two separate dissents, RBG excoriated the outcomes of three cases: Fisher v. University of Texas and two employment discrimination decisions, Vance v. Ball State and University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center v. Nassar. But she wasn’t done yet. The next day, she read an even more scathing dissent, this time in Shelby County v. Holder. That decision ruled a section of the Voting Rights Act, requiring certain districts to get “preclearance” before changing voting laws, as unconstitutional. “The sad irony of today’s decision lies in its utter failure to grasp why the [Voting Rights Act] has proven effective,” Ginsburg opined. “Throwing out preclearance when it has worked and is continuing to work to stop discriminatory changes is like throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet.”

Reading aloud one’s dissent isn’t unheard of, but it is an undeniably vehement statement. Her outspokenness that day caused people all over the world—people who otherwise wouldn’t pay much heed to the decisions passed down by the Supreme Court of the United States—to sit up and take notice.

What people might not realize is that Justice Ginsburg has been using that quiet voice of hers to shape the course of our nation’s history for more than six decades. Below, a few things you might not know about Ginsburg—a.k.a. the Notorious RBG—in honor of her 85th birthday.


U.S. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Brendan Smialowski/Getty Images

Celia Bader, née Amster, died the day before Ginsburg’s high school graduation. But in their short time together, Celia managed to instill in her daughter that an education was not something to be taken for granted. Celia herself—whom Ginsburg regularly, according to Irin Carmon and Shana Knizhnik’s Notorious RBG, called the most intelligent person she’d ever known—went to work at age 15 in order to help put her brother through college. 

At the 1993 White House press conference announcing her nomination to the Supreme Court, Ginsburg wrapped up her remarks with an emotional tribute to the woman who was never allowed to reach her full potential. “I have a last thank-you,” she told the crowd assembled. “It’s to my mother. My mother was the bravest, strongest person I have ever known, who was taken from me much too soon. I pray that I may be all that she would have been had she lived in an age when women could aspire and achieve and daughters are cherished as much as sons.”


As newlyweds, Ginsburg and her husband, Marty, relocated to Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where Marty was expected to fulfill his Army Reserve duties for the next two years. Ruth took the civil service exam and qualified to be a claims adjustor—but then made the mistake of mentioning that she was three months pregnant with their daughter, Jane. Suddenly, RBG’s civil service ranking was reduced, and with it, her title and pay. (She learned a valuable lesson from the experience, and during her second pregnancy—which coincided with her first year as a professor at Rutgers University—she did everything she could to conceal the fact that she was expecting.)

In 1956, Ginsburg was one of just nine female students matriculating at Harvard Law School. The dean of the Law School at the time, Erwin Griswold, hosted a dinner for the women—and at the end of the meal, asked each of them to go around and share how it was they justified taking a spot that would otherwise have gone to a man. Years later—when word got back to Griswold that his former student enjoyed recounting this tale on the lecture circuit—he insisted that it had all been in good fun. 


Ginsburg transferred from Harvard to Columbia, where she graduated at the top of her class. But few law firms at that point had opened their doors to women, and despite glowing recommendations from several of her professors, none of them were able to secure her a clerkship with a federal judge. Ginsburg was finally able to get her foot in the door with a lower-ranking district court judge, Edmund Palmieri—and only after one of her mentors threatened to stop sending clerks his way if he turned her down.  

The famous judge and legal philosopher Learned Hand rejected her too—supposedly because he was afraid a woman’s presence in his office would force him to limit his swearing. Oddly enough, she found herself regularly carpooling with both Palmieri and Hand, who, as author Linda Hirshman put it in her book Sisters in Law, continued to “talk in [his] usual expressive style.” Ginsburg finally asked why he felt like he could swear like a sailor during their car rides, given that he had turned her down so as not to have to clean up his act. “Young lady, I’m not looking at you,” he reportedly replied, staring straight ahead at the windshield. Looking back on the exchange years later, Ginsburg marveled, “It was as if I wasn’t even there.”


During a time when women were expected to put their husbands’ needs before their own, Ruth and Marty Ginsburg refused to let prescribed gender roles dictate how they ran their household. In the years when Marty—a successful tax lawyer in his own right—was busy trying to make partner, Ruth took on the brunt of the housework and child rearing. And as Ruth’s career blossomed, Marty made sure there was dinner on the table for their two kids, and would often drag his wife out of the office late at night to ensure she ate a proper meal and got some rest. (Unlike his culinarily challenged wife, Marty was a whiz in the kitchen, and would famously bake cakes for her clerks’ birthday celebrations. After he passed, the Supreme Court Historical Society published a book of his recipes, titled Chef Supreme.)  

Before Marty’s death in 2010, he reportedly told a friend, “I think the most important thing I have done is enable Ruth to do what she has done.” 


In her role as lead counsel for the ACLU Women’s Rights Project, Ginsburg believed the most effective way to achieve lasting results was to pick cases that were winnable and would set precedents that would chip away at the legal barriers imposed on women. "Not all feminist issues should be litigated now," she cautioned in the early '70s, "because some are losers, given the current political climate, and could set back our efforts to develop favorable law." (As her ACLU colleague Pauli Murray, a legend in both the civil rights and women’s movements, noted, “One bad decision of the Supreme Court has a terrible impact.”) In this way, bit by bit, Ginsburg could construct an unshakeable legal foundation for women’s equality, which would hold until society was ready to pass a more sweeping measure—say, an Equal Rights Amendment—explicitly banning gender discrimination. Ginsburg’s slow and steady approach drew the ire of some feminists who felt the ACLU wasn’t being bold enough.


For Ginsburg, the gender of her plaintiff didn’t matter. What really mattered was whether or not each case could potentially overturn laws restricting women’s—and men’s—roles. In 1974’s Kahn v. Shevin, for example, she represented a widower who believed he should be entitled to a Florida tax exemption granted only to widows. And in 1975’s Weinberger v. Wiesenfeld, she argued on behalf of a widower whose schoolteacher wife had been the family’s primary breadwinner. Once she passed away—leaving him and their infant son—he was unable to collect Social Security survivor’s benefits, which again, were only awarded to widows. (The court ruled unanimously in favor of Wiesenfeld, who only wanted to be able to stay home with his son until he was old enough to go to school full time.)

Ginsburg was also wary of any laws that purported to shield women from the harsh world outside the home, such as rules barring women from jury service. As she wrote in her very first Supreme Court brief, for 1971’s Reed v. Reed, “The pedestal upon which women have been placed has all too often, upon closer inspection, been revealed as a cage.” 


The Ginsburgs became incredibly close to the young father at the center of Weinberger v. Wiesenfeld, Stephen Wiesenfeld. Wiesenfeld and Ginsburg keep in touch to this day; Ginsburg used her connections to help get baby Jason into Columbia Law School, and she officiated at his 1998 wedding, as well as at his father’s 2014 remarriage at the age of 71. 


Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg (L) and former justice Sandra Day O'Connor
Kevork Djansezian/Getty Images

The first two women to serve on the Supreme Court were, even before they met, a little bit in awe of one another. After O’Connor penned her first opinion, outlining the reasons why the Mississippi University for Women’s ban on male nursing students was unconstitutional, Marty Ginsburg half-jokingly asked RBG—then a D.C. circuit judge—if she had somehow written it. (Here, O’Connor had cited the argument put forth in Ginsburg’s very first Supreme Court brief for Reed v. Reed: the school’s decision to keep men out of its nursing program was, O’Connor wrote, “subject to scrutiny under the Equal Protection Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment.”)

Once O’Connor and Ginsburg had become properly acquainted, O’Connor took on more clerks from Ginsburg’s chambers than she did any other federal judge, and the two women often publicly praised each other. 


The Reagan-appointed O'Connor and the Clinton-nominated Ginsburg would serve 12 years together; they were even given matching T-shirts by the National Association of Women’s Judges to help clear things up for anyone not accustomed to seeing two female faces looking down on them from the bench. (“I’m Ruth, not Sandra,” Ginsburg’s read, while O’Connor’s proclaimed, “I’m Sandra, not Ruth.”) 

Ginsburg confessed that the three years between O’Connor’s retirement in 2006 and Sonia Sotomayor’s appointment in 2009 were “the worst times” in a 2014 interview with the New Republic: “The image to the public entering the courtroom was eight men, of a certain size, and then this little woman, sitting off to the side. That was not a good image for the public to see.” 

“But now,” continued Ginsburg, “with three of us on the bench, I am no longer lonely and my newest colleagues are no shrinking violets.” (When asked at what point there will be "enough women" on the Court, Ginsburg has consistently replied, “when there are nine … [There’d] been nine men, and no one’s ever raised a question about that.”)


Although her career as a litigator mirrored that of Thurgood Marshall, Hirshman believes Ginsburg's judicial legacy will place her among the Court’s so-called “great dissenters”: John Marshall Harlan, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., and Louis D. Brandeis. As Hirshman writes:

“In disagreeing with their colleagues at the time they served among them, these legendary jurists anticipated every core development of twentieth century judicial law: the dismantling of Jim Crow segregation, the protection of free speech, and the allowance of economic recognition.”

By speaking up when her conservative colleagues arrive at a decision she believes to be regressive, Ginsburg, Hirshman argues, is planting “seeds” of social progress, lending her powerful words to the movements that will effect change from the ground up. 


US Supreme Court Justices Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Brendan SmialowskI/AFP/Getty Images

Ginsburg and O’Connor jointly decided that they would use jabots to carve out a visual space of their own in what would otherwise be a sea of black robes and ties. “You know, the standard robe is made for a man because it has a place for the shirt to show, and the tie,” Ginsburg told The Washington Post in 2009. “So Sandra Day O’Connor and I thought it would be appropriate if we included as part of our robe something typical of a woman.” According to Carmon and Knizhnik, Ginsburg breaks out one of two collars on decision days. A lace collar featuring gold trim and charms, a gift from one of her former clerks, serves as her majority-opinion collar, while a mirrored bib necklace she was gifted at Glamour’s 2012 Women of the Year awards is what she wears when her side has come up short. “It looks fitting for dissent,” she explained after she broke it out for her 2014 Hobby Lobby opinion. 


Fans of both Ginsburg and the late Antonin Scalia had a hard time wrapping their heads around the duo’s unshakeable bond. How is it, outsiders wondered, that two people with such dramatically different views could grow to be so close? Despite their opposing ideologies, Ginsburg and Scalia possessed an intense mutual respect for one another, a deep respect for the Court’s role, and, perhaps most importantly, both recognized that they made the other better. Oh, and then there was the opera: the friends’ love of the art form, plus their “odd couple” reputation, inspired one law student to compose an entire (satirical) opera about them. In the statement [PDF] she released following the passing of her “best buddy” on February 13, she wrote: 

"Toward the end of the opera 'Scalia/Ginsburg,' tenor Scalia and soprano Ginsburg sing a duet ‘We are different, we are one’ … We disagreed now and then, but when I wrote for the Court and received a Scalia dissent, the opinion ultimately released was notably better than my initial circulation. Justice Scalia nailed all the weak spots—the ‘applesauce’ and ‘argle bargle’—and gave me just what I need to strengthen the majority opinion."


“If I had any talent that God could give me, I would be a great diva,” she said during a conversation at Georgetown University’s Law School last year. “But sadly I have a monotone … [I sing] only in the shower and in my dreams.” That hasn’t stopped her from appearing as an extra in a handful of productions—or from fangirling (in her typically decorous manner) when Plácido Domingo sang to her.


For the past 20 years, Ginsburg has worked out twice weekly with a personal trainer—the same one Justice Kagan uses, on Ginsburg’s recommendation. Her regime includes an elliptical warm up, squats, planks, medicine ball tosses (she uses a 12-pounder!), and push-ups. She regularly does more than 20 push-ups. And she does it all while listening to classical music.


U.S. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg
Allison Shelley/Getty Images

Ginsburg refused to let two bouts of cancer or a 2014 heart operation slow her down, so she certainly won’t let anyone convince her that everyone would be better off if she retired now. As she told the New Republic

"As long as I can do the job full steam, I will stay here. I think I will know when I’m no longer able to think as lucidly, to remember as well, to write as fast. I was number one last term in the speed with which opinions came down. My average from the day of argument to the day the decision was released was sixty days, ahead of the chief by some six days. So I don’t think I have reached the point where I can’t do the job as well."

Ginsburg also has a stock answer ready for any fair-weather supporters: “I asked some people, particularly the academics who said I should have stepped down last year: ‘Who do you think the president could nominate and get through the current Senate that you would rather see on the Court than me?’ No one has given me an answer to that question.”

Sounds like the RBG equivalent of a mic drop to us. 

Additional Sources:
Sisters in Law: How Sandra Day O'Connor and Ruth Bader Ginsburg Went to the Supreme Court and Changed the World Notorious RBG: The Life and Times of Ruth Bader Ginsburg 


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