Ah, the famed American Constitution. A document so revered it’s practically a religious artifact. Brits like me can’t help but marvel at how Americans invoke it like a magical spell—until, of course, it becomes inconvenient. Then it’s quietly tucked away, like the rules of Monopoly when the game starts getting heated.

Take the Fourth Amendment, for instance. It’s the one that promises protection from “unreasonable searches and seizures.” Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? A proper safeguard against nosy government types poking around where they shouldn’t. Except, it turns out, if you’re crossing a U.S. border, that promise is about as reliable as a British train in the rain. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) can demand your phone, your laptop, even your Kindle, and there’s not a warrant or a whiff of probable cause in sight.

As a British citizen who enjoys her little jaunts across the Atlantic, I find this more than a bit unsettling. Here in Europe, we tend to take privacy rather seriously—thanks in part to laws like the GDPR. But in the land of the free, crossing a border means handing over your digital life without so much as a “please.” Your phone, which contains everything from your shopping list to your most regrettable WhatsApp exchanges, is fair game. How very progressive.

It all stems from a peculiar legal loophole called the “border search exception.” Back in 1976, the U.S. Supreme Court decided that customs officers could search luggage without a warrant because, well, national security. Fair enough for the time, perhaps. They were checking for drugs, dodgy cash, maybe a suspiciously large wheel of brie. But fast forward to the digital age, and that logic falls apart faster than a scone made with cheap butter.

Phones are not suitcases. They’re not even remotely comparable. A phone is a portable archive of your life. It knows who you text, what you Google at midnight, where you go on holiday, and whether you prefer dogs over cats (the correct answer is dogs, by the way). The courts, however, haven’t quite caught up with this reality. Instead, they’ve let CBP stretch that 1976 ruling into an all-access pass to your digital soul.

Here’s the kicker: the courts can’t even agree on whether this is entirely above board. Some circuits in the U.S. require at least reasonable suspicion for border agents to search a phone. Others? They’re happy to let CBP dig through your life on a whim. It’s a postcode lottery for your privacy, and the Supreme Court, in its infinite wisdom, has so far declined to sort it out.

As a foreigner, this feels a bit rich coming from a country that loves to lecture the world about freedom. The sheer inconsistency is baffling. You can hop between European countries without so much as a stern glance at your passport, let alone someone demanding to see your Facebook messages. But land in the U.S., and suddenly your holiday snaps are a matter of national security. It’s like arriving at a party where the host insists on checking your handbag for snacks they didn’t provide.

The implications are chilling, even for those of us who aren’t American. Journalists, lawyers, activists—people who rely on their devices to do serious work—have all reported being targeted for additional screening. And let’s be honest: the “random” nature of these searches isn’t fooling anyone. It’s often the people who look or sound a bit different who get flagged, isn’t it?

And yet, this isn’t just an American problem. If the U.S., the self-proclaimed bastion of liberty, can erode privacy in the name of security, what’s stopping others? This kind of power creep has a habit of spreading, like the questionable fashion trends that inexplicably cross the Atlantic.

So, what’s the solution? For starters, the courts need to wake up and recognize that digital privacy is not a luxury. Requiring a warrant to search a phone at the border isn’t just sensible—it’s essential. Congress, too, should step in, though expecting politicians to do anything productive feels like a long shot these days.

In the meantime, for those of us flying into the States, maybe the best advice is to leave your phone at home and bring a book instead. Something suitably British, like Pride and Prejudice. At least Jane Austen won’t betray your secrets to a customs officer.