Full opinion text
Opinion LUCAS, C. J. The National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA) sponsors and regulates intercollegiate athletic competition throughout the United States. Under the NCAA’s drug testing program, randomly selected college student athletes competing in postseason championships and football bowl games are required to provide samples of their urine under closely monitored conditions. Urine samples are chemically analyzed for proscribed substances. Athletes testing “positive” are subject to disqualification. Plaintiffs, who were student athletes attending Stanford University (Stanford) at the time of trial, sued the NCAA, contending its drug testing program violated their right to privacy secured by article I, section 1 of the California Constitution. Stanford intervened in the suit and adopted plaintiffs’ position. Finding the NCAA’s program to be an invasion of plaintiffs’ right to privacy, the superior court permanently enjoined its enforcement against plaintiffs and other Stanford athletes. The Court of Appeal upheld the injunction. By its nature, sports competition demands highly disciplined physical activity conducted in accordance with a special set of social norms. Unlike the general population, student athletes undergo frequent physical examinations, reveal their bodily and medical conditions to coaches and trainers, and often dress and undress in same-sex locker rooms. In so doing, they normally and reasonably forgo a measure of their privacy in exchange for the personal and professional benefits of extracurricular athletics. A student athlete’s already diminished expectation of privacy is outweighed by the NCAA’s legitimate regulatory objectives in conducting testing for proscribed drugs. As a sponsor and regulator of sporting events, the NCAA has self-evident interests in ensuring fair and vigorous competition, as well as protecting the health and safety of student athletes. These interests justify a set of drug testing rules reasonably calculated to achieve drug-free athletic competition. The NCAA’s rules contain elements designed to accomplish this purpose, including: (1) advance notice to athletes of testing procedures and written consent to testing; (2) random selection of athletes actually engaged in competition; (3) monitored collection of a sample of a selected athlete’s urine in order to avoid substitution or contamination; and (4) chain of custody, limited disclosure, and other procedures designed to safeguard the confidentiality of the testing process and its outcome. As formulated, the NCAA’s regulations do not offend the legitimate privacy interests of student athletes. For these reasons, as more fully discussed below, the NCAA’s drug testing program does not violate plaintiffs’ state constitutional right to privacy. We will therefore reverse the judgment of the Court of Appeal and direct entry of final judgment in favor of the NCAA. Statement of Facts and Proceedings Below Plaintiffs’ action for injunctive relief was tried to the court. We summarize the facts as revealed by the uncontradicted evidence in the record and the findings of the trial court. The NCAA, a private association of more than 1,000 colleges and universities, was created to foster and regulate intercollegiate athletic competition. NCAA rules are made by member institutions, acting collectively and democratically at national conventions. Member institutions and college athletes are required to abide by NCAA rules as a condition to participation in NCAA-sponsored events. 1. Events Leading to the NCAA’s Adoption of Drug Testing In 1973, the NCAA enacted a rule prohibiting student athlete drug use. Ten years later, at the Pan American Games in Caracas, Venezuela, several college student athletes tested positive for prohibited drugs. Others withdrew from competition when faced with the prospect of testing. In response to the incident, the United States Olympic Committee (USOC) developed a drug testing program modeled after the program of the International Olympic Committee, which had been established in the early 1970’s. Following the lead of the USOC, the NCAA began to study drug use among student athletes. The NCAA commissioned Michigan State University to conduct a nationwide survey of college athlete drug use. The results revealed substantial use of a variety of drugs—8 percent of the athletes surveyed reported using amphetamines, 36 percent marijuana or hashish, 17 percent cocaine, and 4 percent steroids. Nine percent of football players reported using steroids at some time; six percent reported using steroids within the preceding twelve months. In January 1984, the members of the NCAA’s Pacific 10 Conference, including Stanford, introduced a resolution calling on the NCAA to adopt a mandatory drug testing program. The resolution recited that “the use of controlled substances and allegedly performance-enhancing drugs represents a danger to the health of students and a threat to the integrity of amateur sport.” Acting on the Pacific 10 Conference resolution, the NCAA created a special committee to study drug use and testing. The committee recommended a comprehensive drug testing program based on the Olympic model, concluding in part: “The NCAA has a legitimate interest in maintaining the integrity of intercollegiate athletics, including insuring fair competition and protecting the health and safety of all participating student athletes. The use of ‘performance-enhancing’ drugs by individual student-athletes is a violation of the ethic of fair competition, [and] poses a potential health and safety hazard to those utilizing such drugs and a potential safety hazard to those competing with such individuals. The most effective method of ensuring that student-athletes are not utilizing ‘performance enhancing’ drugs is through a consistent, national drug testing program.” At the NCAA’s 1985 convention, the drug use and testing committee’s proposal was referred back for further study and refinement. At the 1986 convention, the committee’s revised proposal was adopted by an overwhelming vote of the member institutions. The NCAA’s drug testing program has continued, with certain amendments, through the time of this appeal. 2. The NCAA Drug Testing Program The NCAA prohibits student athlete use of chemical substances in several categories, including: (1) psychomotor and nervous system stimulants; (2) anabolic steroids; (3) alcohol and beta blockers (in rifle events only); (4) diuretics; and (5) street drugs. At the time of trial, sympathomimetic amines (a class of substances included in many medications) were also included in the NCAA’s list of banned drugs. The NCAA has amended its rules to delete sympathomimetic amines from its list of proscribed substances. Student athletes seeking to participate in NCAA-sponsored competition are required to sign a three-part statement and consent form. New forms must be executed at the beginning of each year of competition. The first part of the form affirms that the signator meets NCAA eligibility regulations and that he or she has duly reported any known violations of those regulations. The second part of the form, entitled Buckley Amendment Consent, authorizes limited disclosure of the form, the results of NCAA drug tests, academic transcripts, financial aid records, and other information pertaining to NCAA eligibility, to authorized representatives of the athlete’s institution and conference, as well as to the NCAA. The items of information to be disclosed are identified in the statement as “education records” pursuant to the federal Educational Rights and Privacy Act of 1974. (20 U.S.C. § 1232(g).) The final part of the form is a “Drug-Testing Consent” including the following provisions: “By signing this part of the form, you certify that you agree to be tested for drugs. “You agree to allow the NCAA, during this academic year, before, during or after you participate in any NCAA championship or in any postseason football game certified by the NCAA, to test you for the banned drugs listed in Executive Regulation l-7(b) in the NCAA Manual. “You reviewed the procedures for NCAA drug testing that are described in the NCAA Drug-Testing Program brochure. “You understand that if you test positive (the NCAA finds traces of any of the banned drugs in your body), you will be ineligible to participate in postseason competition for at least 90 days. “If you test positive and lose eligibility for 90 days, and then test positive again after your eligibility is restored, you will lose postseason eligibility in all sports for the current and next academic year. “You understand that this consent and the results of your drug tests, if any, will only be disclosed in accordance with the Buckley Amendment consent.” The Drug Testing Consent contains dated signature spaces for the student athlete and, if the student athlete is a minor, a parent. Failure to sign the three-part form, including the Drug Testing Consent, renders the student athlete ineligible to participate in NCAA-sponsored competition. Drug testing is conducted at NCAA athletic events by urinalysis. All student athletes in championship events or postseason bowl games are potentially subject to testing. Particular athletes are chosen for testing according to plans that may include random selection or other selection criteria such as playing time, team position, place of finish, or suspicion of drug use. Upon written notice following his or her participation in an athletic event, the selected athlete must report promptly to a collection station. The athlete may choose to be accompanied by a witness-observer. At the collection station, the athlete picks a plastic-sealed beaker with a personal code number. In the presence of an NCAA official monitor of the same sex as the athlete, the athlete supplies a urine specimen of 100-200 milliliters. The specimen is identified, documented, and divided into two samples labeled A and B. Both samples are delivered to one of three certified testing laboratories. Chain of custody procedures provide for signed receipts and acknowledgments at each transfer point. At the laboratory, a portion of sample A is tested by gas chromatography/ mass spectometry—the most scientifically accurate method of analysis available. Positive findings, signifying use of proscribed drugs, are confirmed by testing another portion of sample A, and then reviewed by the laboratory director and reported to the NCAA by code number. The NCAA decodes the reports and relays positive findings to the athletic director of the college or university involved by telephone and overnight letter marked “confidential.” The institution is required to notify the athlete of the positive finding. Within 24 hours of notice of a positive finding, sample B of the athlete’s urine is tested.A positive finding may be appealed to a designated NCAA committee. A positive test finding results in loss of postseason eligibility. Refusal by a student athlete to follow NCAA-mandated drug testing procedures yields the same consequence—the offending athlete is barred from competition. 3. Effects of the Drug Testing Program In considering whether the NCAA’s drug testing program violated plaintiffs’ state constitutional right to privacy, the trial court and the Court of Appeal required the NCAA to demonstrate that its drug testing program advanced a “compelling state interest” by proving each of the following: (1) the program furthered its stated purposes, i.e., to safeguard the integrity of athletic competition and to protect the health and safety of student athletes; (2) the utility of the program manifestly outweighed any resulting impairment of the privacy right; and (3) there were no alternatives to drug testing less offensive to privacy interests. Much of the trial was devoted to a debate among scientists, physicians, and sports professionals regarding the merits of the NCAA’s list of proscribed drugs and the general efficacy of its drug testing program. There were sharp differences in professional opinions on a wide range of subjects, including what substances should be banned, as well as the attitudes and behaviors of athletes and coaches toward certain drugs (e.g., steroids) that some may regard as enhancing athletic performance. The trial court’s findings, sustained by the Court of Appeal, heavily favored plaintiffs’ side of the professional debate. The trial court found in part that the NCAA drug testing program invades the privacy interests of student athletes by requiring them: (1) to disclose medications they may be using and other information about their physical and medical conditions; (2) to urinate in the presence of a monitor; and (3) to provide a urine sample that reveals chemical and other substances in their bodies. The court further found that college athletes do not use drugs any more frequently than college students as a general class. It observed that in 1986-1987, the first year of the NCAA’s drug testing program, 34 of the 3,511 athletes tested for drugs were declared ineligible because of proscribed drug use. Of the 34 athletes declared ineligible, 31 were engaged in football, 1 was in track and field, and 2 were in basketball. Of the football players, 25 had tested positive for use of steroids. The track and field athlete tested positive for steroids, the two basketball players for cocaine. From its findings, the court concluded there was no “compelling need” for drug testing to protect the health of college athletes or the integrity of athletic competition. According to the court, the NCAA program was “over-broad” because it banned “useful” over-the-counter medications and prescription drugs “designed to improve the health of the athlete.” The court observed the NCAA had not been completely consistent in its professed concern for the health of athletes as shown by its failure to require measles vaccinations of athletes despite previous measles outbreaks at postseason competition or to provide counselling or rehabilitation services for drug-using athletes. The court added that Stanford “believes it is wrong to single out athletes for drug testing” and “favors drug education for its students.” The trial court also found the NCAA had failed to produce evidence that certain banned substances, e.g., amphetamines, diuretics, marijuana, and heroin, actually enhance athletic performance. It did find, however, that marijuana clearly impairs athletic performance and that cocaine may do so. Addressing the alleged perception that use of certain drugs may enhance performance, the court found that drugs are generally not perceived by college athletes and coaches to enhance performance or to be “a major problem.” With respect to steroid use, the “perception,” according to the court, is that steroids “might only help certain types of positions in football.” On the issue of public perception of drug use, the court offered its general view that ‘the NCAA drug testing program is probably doing more harm than good,” and further determined the NCAA had failed to show that drug education and testing based on reasonable suspicion were inadequate to the task of controlling drug use by athletes. From its conclusions, the trial court determined that the NCAA’s drug testing program violated the state constitutional privacy rights of Stanford student athletes. It permanently enjoined any testing of those athletes wherever it might be conducted, whether inside or outside of California. On appeal, the Court of Appeal upheld the trial court’s factual findings and sustained its legal determinations regarding the NCAA’s drug testing program, including its holding that the NCAA had failed to establish a “compelling state interest” in support of the program. The trial court’s judgment, including the permanent injunction, was affirmed. We granted review. Discussion Article I, section 1 of the California Constitution provides: “All people are by nature free and independent and have inalienable rights. Among these are enjoying and defending life and liberty, acquiring, possessing, and protecting property, and pursuing and obtaining safety, happiness, and privacy.” (Italics added.) The phrase “and privacy” was added to California Constitution, article I, section 1 by an initiative adopted by the voters on November 7, 1972 (the Privacy Initiative or Amendment). To resolve the dispute between the parties, we address three questions of first impression in this court: (1) Does the Privacy Initiative govern the conduct of private, nongovernmental entities such as the NCAA; and (2) if it does, what legal standard is to be applied in assessing alleged invasions of privacy; and (3) under that standard, is the NCAA’s drug testing program a violation of the state constitutional privacy right? 1. Application of the California Constitutional Right to Privacy to Nongovernmental Entities Neither plaintiffs nor Stanford assert that the NCAA is an agency or instrumentality of government or a vehicle for state action. Case law generally confirms the status of the NCAA as a private organization, comprised of American colleges and universities, and democratically governed by its own membership. (National Collegiate Athletic Assn. v. Tarkanian (1988) 488 U.S. 179, 197 [102 L.Ed.2d 469, 488, 109 S.Ct. 454] [NCAA is private actor that “enjoy[s] no governmental powers”]; Arlosoroff v. National Collegiate Athletic Ass’n (4th Cir. 1984) 746 F.2d 1019, 1021 [NCAA is “a voluntary association of public and private institutions”]; O’Halloran v. University of Washington (W.D.Wash. 1988) 679 F.Supp. 997, 1001, revd. on other grounds, 856 F.2d 1375 [NCAA is private entity].) In its opening attack on the judgment, the NCAA asserts that its private status is dispositive of this action because the Privacy Initiative does not embody a right of action against nongovernmental entities. We disagree. Article I, section 1 of the California Constitution is an enumeration of the “inalienable rights” of all Californians. “Privacy” is declared to be among those rights. Typical of broad constitutional declarations of rights, the section does not define “privacy” or explain its relationship to other rights or interests. Nor does it specify how or against whom the right of privacy is to be safeguarded. Mere use of the word “privacy” is not definitive in this regard—at the time of the Privacy Initiative there were two distinct and well-established legal sources of privacy rights—the federal Constitution (applicable only to government action) and common law and statutory provisions (applicable as well against nongovernmental entities). (See discussion in pt. 2, post.) The Privacy Initiative is to be interpreted and applied in a manner consistent with the probable intent of the body enacting it: the voters of the State of California. (Legislature v. Eu (1991) 54 Cal.3d 492, 505 [286 Cal.Rptr. 283, 816 P.2d 1309]; In re Lance W. (1985) 37 Cal.3d 873, 889 [210 Cal.Rptr. 631, 694 P.2d 744].) When, as here, the language of an initiative measure does not point to a definitive resolution of a question of interpretation, “ ‘it is appropriate to consider indicia of the voters’ intent other than the language of the provision itself.’ . . . Such indicia include the analysis and arguments contained in the official ballot pamphlet.” (Legislature v. Eu, supra, 54 Cal.3d at p. 504, quoting in part Kennedy Wholesale, Inc. v. State Bd. of Equalization (1991) 53 Cal.3d 245, 250 [279 Cal.Rptr. 325, 806 P.2d 1360]; see also Amador Valley Joint High Sch. Dist. v. State Bd. of Equalization (1978) 22 Cal.3d 208, 245-246 [149 Cal.Rptr. 239, 583 P.2d 1281].) The official ballot pamphlet section dealing with Proposition 11, the Privacy Initiative, contains arguments for and against the measure as well as rebuttals. The argument in favor of Proposition 11 is replete with references to information-amassing practices of both “government” and “business.” (Ballot Pamp., Proposed Stats, and Amends, to Cal. Const, with arguments to voters, Gen. Elec. (Nov. 7, 1972) p. 26 [hereafter Ballot Argument].) The authors of the argument, then-Assemblyman Kenneth Cory and then-Senator George Moscone, emphasized the capacity of both governmental and nongovernmental agencies to gather, keep, and disseminate sensitive personal information without checking its accuracy or restricting its use to mutually agreed or otherwise legitimate purposes. As the argument in favor of Proposition 11 observes: “At present there are no effective restraints on the information activities of government and business. This amendment creates a legal and enforceable right of privacy for every Californian. H] The right of privacy . . . prevents government and business interests from collecting and stockpiling unnecessary information about us and from misusing information gathered for one purpose in order to serve other purposes or to embarrass us. [f] . . . The proliferation of government and business records over which we have no control limits our ability to control our personal lives. . . . ffl Even more dangerous is the loss of control over the accuracy of government and business records on individuals. . . . Even if the existence of this information is known, few government agencies or private businesses permit individuals to review their files and correct errors. [1] . . . Each time we apply for a credit card or a life insurance policy, file a tax return, interview for a job[,] or get a drivers’ license, a dossier is opened and an informational profile is sketched.” (Ballot Argument, supra, at pp. 26-27, italics omitted and added.) The rebuttal to the argument in favor of Proposition 11 and the argument against Proposition 11, both of which were written by then-Senator James Whetmore, do not contest the privacy measure’s potential impact on “business” as well as “government.” Rather, they challenge only the need for additional privacy safeguards, observing: “To say there are at present no effective restraints on the information activities of government and business is simply untrue.” (Ballot Argument, supra, at p. 27, italics added.) Opponents further argued that the receipt of personal information is essential to effectuate the private party relationships and transactions referred to by proponents of the measure, e.g., credit cards, life insurance policies, and employment interviews. (Ibid) The repeated emphasis in the competing ballot arguments on private party relationships and transactions, as well as individual encounters with government, underscores the efforts of the Privacy Initiative’s framers to create enforceable privacy rights against both government agencies and private entities. As we have recognized: “[T]he overbroad collection and retention of unnecessary personal information by government and business interests” was one of the principal “ ‘mischiefs’ ” at which the Privacy Initiative was directed. (White v. Davis (1975) 13 Cal.3d 757, 775 [120 Cal.Rptr. 94, 533 P.2d 222], italics added.) Although none of our decisions has squarely addressed the question whether our state constitutional right to privacy may be enforced against private parties (we had no occasion to decide the issue in Schmidt v. Superior Court (1989) 48 Cal.3d 370, 389, fn. 14 [256 Cal.Rptr. 750, 769 P.2d 932]), the Courts of Appeal have consistently answered in the affirmative. (See, e.g., Wilkinson v. Times Mirror Corp. (1989) 215 Cal.App.3d 1034, 1040-1044 [264 Cal.Rptr. 194] [hereafter Wilkinson]; Miller v. National Broadcasting Co. (1986) 187 Cal.App.3d 1463, 1489-1493 [232 Cal.Rptr. 668, 69 A.L.R.4th 1027]; Cutter v. Brownbridge (1986) 183 Cal.App.3d 836, 841-843 [228 Cal.Rptr. 545]; Kinsey v. Macur (1980) 107 Cal.App.3d 265 [165 Cal.Rptr. 608]; Porten v. University of San Francisco (1976) 64 Cal.App.3d 825, 829-830 [134 Cal.Rptr. 839] [hereafter Porten]; see also Chico Fem. Women’s Health Cr. v. Butte Glen Med. S. (E.D.Cal. 1983) 557 F.Supp. 1190, 1201-1203.) In Porten, supra, 64 Cal.App.3d 825, a college student sought damages from the University of San Francisco, a private institution, alleging it had, without his permission or any good reason, disclosed his academic transcript from another school to a state government agency. The Court of Appeal held the student had stated a cause of action against the university for violation of his state constitutional right to privacy by alleging the unauthorized and improper use of personal and confidential academic information for a purpose not in keeping with its creation or retention. Relying on the references in the ballot argument we have quoted, the court noted that “business” as well as government was the focus of the Privacy Initiative and concluded: “The constitutional provision is self-executing; hence, it confers a judicial right of action on all Californians. [Citations.] Privacy is protected not merely against state action; it is considered an inalienable right which may not be violated by anyone.” (Id. at pp. 829-830.) Similarly, in Wilkinson, supra, 215 Cal.App.3d 1034, the court reviewed prior cases in support of its holding that the California constitutional right to privacy afforded protection against a private employer that required drug testing as part of pre-employment physical examinations. Emphasizing that the concerns underlying the Privacy Initiative extended to the conduct of both governmental and nongovernmental entities, the court observed: “Common experience with the ever-increasing use of computers in contemporary society confirms that the [Privacy Initiative] was needed and intended to safeguard individual privacy from intrusion by both private and governmental action. That common experience makes it only too evident that personal privacy is threatened by the information-gathering capabilities and activities not just of government, but of private business as well. If the right of privacy is to exist as more than a memory or a dream, the power of both public and private institutions to collect and preserve data about individual citizens must be subject to constitutional control. Any expectations of privacy would indeed be illusory if only the government’s collection and retention of data were restricted.” (Id. at p. 1043.) In its day-to-day operations, the NCAA is in a position to generate, retain, and use personal information about student athletes and others. In this respect, it is no different from a credit card purveyor, an insurance company, or a private employer (the private entity examples used in the ballot arguments) in its capacity to affect the privacy interests of those with whom it deals. The NCAA nonetheless urges us to impose a state action prerequisite to suits under the Privacy Initiative because it adds “privacy” to the declaration of rights portion of our state Constitution. The NCAA correctly observes that our decisions construing other provisions in the declaration of rights impose a state action requirement (e.g., People v. Zelinski (1979) 24 Cal.3d 357, 365 [155 Cal.Rptr. 575, 594 P.2d 1000] [search and seizure]; Garfinkle v. Superior Court (1978) 21 Cal.3d 268, 281-282 [146 Cal.Rptr. 208, 578 P.2d 925], app. dism. (1978) 439 U.S. 949 [58 L.Ed.2d 340, 99 S.Ct. 343] [due process]; Kruger v. Wells Fargo Bank (1974) 11 Cal.3d 352, 366 [113 Cal.Rptr. 449, 521 P.2d 441, 65 A.L.R.3d 1266] [same]). But those decisions were not premised on the mere location of the respective provisions in the constitutional text, but on their distinct language and histories. As we recognized in Kruger, supra, what the “drafters” of our Constitution’s due process clause “intended by that enactment” remains the pivotal factor in determining whose activity is subjected to regulation. (11 Cal.3d at p. 366.) Similarly, what the voters intended in enacting the Privacy Initiative must determine the propriety of any state action requirement in this case. As we have seen, the ballot arguments contain persuasive evidence of drafter and voter intent to recognize a right of action for invasion of privacy against private as well as government entities. (White v. Davis, supra, 13 Cal.3d at pp. 773-776.) Finally, the NCAA advocates a narrow reading of the history of the Privacy Initiative, calling the reference to “business” in the ballot arguments “nothing more than a general description of increasing strains on privacy in society generally.” To the contrary, the repeated ballot argument references to “business” as an equal source of invasions of privacy, when coupled with examples of specific “business” entities that regularly obtain and use personal information, reveal an attempt by the framers of the Privacy Initiative to make their case to voters based on the conduct and practices of entities in the private as well as the public sector. Reading this language, a reasonable voter would most likely have concluded he or she was casting a ballot to safeguard his or her personal privacy against private as well as government entities. After the case was so presented, the voters were persuaded. To remove by judicial construction a significant part of what the voters desired would amount to an electoral “bait and switch.” In summary, the Privacy Initiative in article I, section 1 of the California Constitution creates a right of action against private as well as government entities. The legal concept of “privacy” as embodied in the initiative is susceptible of such an interpretation; the ballot arguments strongly support it. Our holding in this regard is necessarily confined to the Privacy Initiative. We intimate nothing about the existence of rights of action or permissible defendants in legal proceedings that may be brought either under other clauses in article I, section 1 or other parts of our state Constitution. 2. Standards for Determining Invasion of Privacy Under Article I, Section 1 In evaluating the NCAA’s drug testing program, the trial court and the Court of Appeal assumed that private entities were subject to the same legal standards as government agencies with respect to claims of invasion of privacy. Borrowing from a few of our cases involving the conduct of government in its dealings with individual citizens, the lower courts imposed on the NCAA the burden of proving both: (1) a “compelling state interest” in support of drug testing; and (2) the absence of any alternative means of accomplishing that interest. (See Long Beach City Emp. v. City of Long Beach (1986) 41 Cal.3d 937, 948 [227 Cal.Rptr. 90, 719 P.2d 660]; White v. Davis, supra, 13 Cal.3d at p. 775.) Because the NCAA failed to shoulder the purported burden, it was enjoined from carrying out its drug testing program. The text of the Privacy Initiative does not define “privacy.” The Ballot Argument in favor includes broad references to a “right to be left alone,” calling it a “fundamental and compelling interest,” and purporting to include within its dimensions no less than “our homes, our families, our thoughts, our emotions, our expressions, our personalities, our freedom of communion, and our freedom to associate with the people we choose.” (Ballot Argument, supra, at p. 27.) Regrettably, such vague and all-encompassing terms afford little guidance in developing a workable legal definition of the state constitutional right to privacy. The principal focus of the Privacy Initiative is readily discernible. The Ballot Argument warns of unnecessary information gathering, use, and dissemination by public and private entities—images of “government snooping,” computer stored and generated “dossiers” and “ ‘cradle-to-grave’ profiles on every American” dominate the framers’ appeal to the voters. (Ballot Argument, supra, at p. 26.) The evil addressed is government and business conduct in “collecting and stockpiling unnecessary information . . . and misusing information gathered for one purpose in order to serve other purposes or to embarrass . . . .” (Id. at p. 27.) “The [Privacy Initiative’s] primary purpose is to afford individuals some measure of protection against this most modern threat to personal privacy.” (White v. Davis, supra, 13 Cal.3d at p. 774.) Although the argument in favor does contain a cryptic reference to a “compelling public need” for abridgement of privacy, the reference occurs in the context of informational privacy rights against government. The argument states in part: “The right of privacy is an important American heritage and essential to the fundamental rights guaranteed by the First, Third, Fourth, Fifth, and Ninth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution. This right should be abridged only when there is compelling public need. Some information may remain as designated public records but only when the availability of such information is clearly in the public interest.” (Ballot Argument, supra, at p. 27, italics added.) Nothing in this passage compels the conclusion that the phrase “compelling public need” was intended to supply a single, all-encompassing legal test for privacy rights. Even within the context of government information-gathering, the limited references in the ballot arguments to “compelling” necessity in the ballot arguments are not consistent. When pressed by the opponents of the Privacy Initiative, who maintained that the new right to privacy would place unwieldy burdens on government efforts to obtain information needed to police the welfare system, the framers equivocated, narrowing their description of the initiative’s effect. In a rebuttal to the argument against the Privacy Initiative, Assemblyman Cory stated in part: “The right to privacy will not destroy welfare nor undermine any important government program. It is limited by ‘compelling public necessity’ and the public’s need to know. [The Privacy Initiative] will not prevent the government from collecting any information it legitimately needs. It will only prevent misuse of this information for unauthorized purposes and preclude the collection of extraneous or frivolous information.” (Ballot Argument, supra, at p. 28, italics added.) The references to a public “need to know” and to information “legitimately need[ed]” by government serve to limit and narrow the prior reference to “compelling public interest.” A mere “legitimate need” for information may be less than overwhelming. Similarly, a type of information may not be “extraneous” or “frivolous” in pursuit of a government task, but the government’s claim of entitlement may not be “compelling.” For example, if a perceived “need” merely represents greater efficiency or effectiveness in the performance of some public function, but its fulfillment is by no means indispensable to government existence or operation, it might not be regarded as “compelling.” And yet, as the ballot arguments reveal, the framers of the Privacy Initiative preferred, at least in responding to the arguments of their opponents, a more flexible and pragmatic approach to the privacy right than the isolated term “compelling public interest” appears to demand. As applied to private entities, a “compelling public interest” standard poses additional difficulties. Private entities pursue private ends and interests, not those of government. If every private organization had to establish a “compelling public interest” or “compelling state interest” to justify any activity that had an impact on individual privacy, it would fail to do so in most, if not all, conceivable cases. To use an example referred to in the ballot arguments, a private business extending credit or selling insurance may have a legitimate commercial need for obtaining personal information, but such a need is not thereby legally transformed into a “state interest,” let alone a “compelling” one. The Ballot Argument on the Privacy Initiative is useful in identifying the general evils that concerned its authors, but it does not provide clear or unequivocal support for a universal “compelling public interest” standard for privacy rights, regardless of context or circumstances. Indeed, the argument offers little guidance in developing privacy standards. Rather, at bottom, it counsels careful evaluation in context of all asserted “legitimate” interests at stake in the resolution of privacy claims. Although confined to the single word “privacy,” the language of the Privacy Initiative may be more helpful in developing a suitable legal standard. The term “privacy” was not coined by the authors of the Privacy Initiative. At the time the Privacy Initiative was considered and adopted by the voters, a right to privacy had been recognized and defined in several distinct branches of the law. When an initiative contains terms that have been judicially construed, “' “ ‘the presumption is almost irresistible’ ” ’ ” that those terms have been used “ ‘ “ ‘in the precise and technical sense’ ” ’ ” in which they have been used by the courts. (In re Harris (1989) 49 Cal.3d 131, 136 [260 Cal.Rptr. 288, 775 P.2d 1057], quoting People v. Weidert (1985) 39 Cal.3d 836, 845-846 [218 Cal.Rptr. 57, 705 P.2d 380]; see also In re Lance W., supra, 37 Cal.3d at p. 890, fn. 11 [“The adopting body is presumed to be aware of existing laws and judicial construction thereof.”]; People v. Weidert, supra, 39 Cal.3d at p. 844; In re Jeanice D. (1980) 28 Cal.3d 210, 216 [168 Cal.Rptr. 455, 617 P.2d 1087] [same effect].) Therefore, in order to discern the meaning of “privacy” as used in the Privacy Initiative, we must examine the various legal roots of the privacy concept. a. Sources of the Right to Privacy The pre-initiative judicial construction of the right to privacy developed along two distinct lines: (1) a common law right, supplemented in some instances by statutes, protecting a diverse set of individual interests from interference by nongovernmental entities; and (2) a federal constitutional right, derived from various provisions of the Bill of Rights, that took distinct shape in United States Supreme Court decisions in the 1960’s safeguarding the rights of individuals and private entities from government invasion. (1) The common law right The origin of the common law right to privacy is often traced to a seminal law review article written at the end of the last century. Samuel D. Warren and Louis D. Brandeis observed a trend in tort law extending protection beyond property rights to what they described as “inviolate personality”— “the right of determining, ordinarily, to what extent [a person’s] thoughts, sentiments, and emotions shall be communicated to others.” (Warren & Brandeis, The Right to Privacy (1890) 4 Harv.L.Rev. 193, 205, 198.) Warren and Brandeis attempted to weave together various strands of tort law into a single thread—in Judge Thomas Cooley’s phrase, a “right ‘to be let alone.’ ” (Id. at p. 195.) Nearly 40 years later, Brandeis regarded the privacy right as broad-based and rooted in the federal Constitution. As he stated: “The makers of our Constitution . . . conferred, as against the Government, the right to be let alone—the most comprehensive of rights and the right most valued by civilized men.” (Olmstead v. United States (1928) 277 U.S. 438, 478 [72 L.Ed. 944, 956, 48 S.Ct. 564, 66 A.L.R. 376]; (dis. opn. of Brandeis, D.) The Privacy Initiative’s debt to the legal tradition begun by Warren and Brandéis is revealed in ballot arguments: “The right of privacy is the right to be left alone. ... It protects our homes, our families, our thoughts, our emotions, our expressions, our personalities, our freedom of communion, and our freedom to associate with the people we choose.” (Ballot Argument, supra, at p. 27, italics added.) Seventy years after Warren and Brandéis proposed a right to privacy, Dean William L. Prosser analyzed the case law development of the invasion of privacy tort, distilling four distinct kinds of activities violating the privacy protection and giving rise to tort liability: (1) intrusion into private matters; (2) public disclosure of private facts; (3) publicity placing a person in a false light; and (4) misappropriation of a person’s name or likeness. (Prosser, Privacy (1960) 48 Cal.L.Rev. 381, 389.) Prosser’s classification was adopted by the Restatement Second of Torts in sections 652A-652E. California common law has generally followed Prosser’s classification of privacy interests as embodied in the Restatement. (5 Witkin, Summary of Cal. Law (9th ed. 1988) Torts, §§ 580-594, pp. 674-693.) The privacy tort seeks to vindicate multiple and different interests that range from freedom to act without observation in a home, hospital room, or other private place to the ability to control the commercial exploitation of a name or picture. (Rest.2d Torts, §§ 652B; 652C; see also Miller v. National Broadcasting Co., supra, 187 Cal.App.3d 1463 [television producer and camera crew entered home without permission to film unsuccessful efforts of paramedics to save the life of plaintiff’s husband who had suffered heart attack]; Noble v. Sears, Roebuck & Co. (1973) 33 Cal.App.3d 654 [109 Cal.Rptr. 269, 73 A.L.R.3d 1164] [private investigator entered hospital room to interrogate patient]; Civil Code, § 3344 [right to recover damages for knowing use of a person’s name, photograph, likeness, voice, or signature for commercial exploitation; statutory right cumulative to the common law].) Each of the four categories of common law invasion of privacy identifies a distinct interest associated with an individual’s control of the process or products of his or her personal life. To the extent there is a common denominator among them, it appears to be improper interference (usually by means of observation or communication) with aspects of life consigned to the realm of the “personal and confidential” by strong and widely shared social norms. “The [common law invasion of privacy] tort safeguards the interests of individuals in the maintenance of rules of civility. ... [f] ... [In everyday life we experience privacy] as an inherently normative set of social practices that constitute a way of life, our way of life. ... In the tort, ‘privacy’ is simply a label we use to identify one aspect of the many forms of respect by which we maintain a community. It is less important that the purity of the label be maintained, than that the forms of community life of which it is a part be preserved.” (Post, The Social Foundations of Privacy (1989) 77 Cal.L.Rev. 957, 1008.) Privacy rights also have psychological foundations emanating from personal needs to establish and maintain identity and self-esteem by controlling self-disclosure: “In a society in which multiple, often conflicting role performances are demanded of each individual, the original etymological meaning of the word ‘person’—mask—has taken on new meaning. [People] fear exposure not only to those closest to them; much of the outrage underlying the asserted right to privacy is a reaction to exposure to persons known only through business or other secondary relationships. The claim is not so much one of total secrecy as it is of the right to define one’s circle of intimacy—to choose who shall see beneath the quotidian mask. Loss of control over which ‘face’ one puts on may result in literal loss of self-identity [citations], and is humiliating beneath the gaze of those whose curiosity treats a human being as an object.” (Briscoe v. Reader’s Digest Association, Inc. (1971) 4 Cal.3d 529, 534 [93 Cal.Rptr. 866, 483 P.2d 34, 57 A.L.R.3d 1], fn. omitted.) The legally amorphous character of a tort based on social custom and psychological well-being did not escape either common law judges or American Law Institute commentators. The common law right of privacy contains several important limiting principles that have prevented its becoming an all-encompassing and always litigable assertion of individual right. Initially, not every kind of conduct that strays from social custom or implicates personal feelings gives rise to a common law cause of action for invasion of privacy. The various branches of the privacy tort refer generally to conduct that is “highly offensive to a reasonable person,” thereby emphasizing the importance of the objective context of the alleged invasion, including: (1) the likelihood of serious harm, particularly to the emotional sensibilities of the victim; and (2) the presence or absence of countervailing interests based on competing social norms which may render the defendant’s conduct inoffensive; e.g., a legitimate public interest in exposing and prosecuting serious crime that might justify publication of otherwise private information or behavior. Moreover, the plaintiff in an invasion of privacy case must have conducted himself or herself in a manner consistent with an actual expectation of privacy, i.e., he or she must not have manifested by his or her conduct a voluntary consent to the invasive actions of defendant. If voluntary consent is present, a defendant’s conduct will rarely be deemed “highly offensive to a reasonable person” so as to justify tort liability. (Rest.2d Torts, § 652B, com. c [no liability for public observation of plaintiff “since he is not then in seclusion, and his appearance is public and open to the public eye”]; Gill v. Hearst Publishing Co. (1953) 40 Cal.2d 224, 230 [253 P.2d 441] [plaintiffs waived any right to privacy by a “pose voluntarily assumed in a public market place”]; Aisenson v. American Broadcasting Co. (1990) 220 Cal.App.3d 146,162 [269 Cal.Rptr. 379] [“One factor relevant to whether an intrusion is ‘highly offensive to a reasonable person’ is the extent to which the person whose privacy is at issue voluntarily entered into the public sphere.”]; Melvin v. Reid (1931) 112 Cal.App. 285, 290 [297 P. 91] [no right to privacy in matters publicized with consent: “There can be no privacy in that which is already public.”]; see also Kapellas v. Kofman (1969) 1 Cal.3d 20, 36-37 [81 Cal.Rptr. 360, 459 P.2d 912].) The maxim of the law “volenti non fit injuria” (no wrong is done to one who consents) applies as well to the invasion of privacy tort. (Rest.2d Torts, § 892A, com. a; see also Civ. Code, § 3515.) In determining the “ ‘offensiveness’ ” of an invasion of a privacy interest, common law courts consider, among other things, “the degree of the intrusion, the context, conduct and circumstances surrounding the intrusion as well as the intruder’s motives and objectives, the setting into which he intrudes, and the expectations of those whose privacy is invaded.” (Miller v. National Broadcasting Co., supra, 187 Cal.App.3d at pp. 1483-1484.) Thus, the common law right of privacy is neither absolute nor globally vague, but is carefully confined to specific sets of interests that must inevitably be weighed in the balance against competing interests before the right is judicially recognized. A plaintiffs expectation of privacy in a specific context must be objectively reasonable under the circumstances, especially in light of the competing social interests involved. As one commentator has summarized: “Through a careful balancing of interests, the courts developed specific [common law] causes of action which protected somewhat well-defined aspects of personal privacy. Although privacy was clearly identified as an interest worthy of some legal protection, courts generally did not give privacy a privileged place or undue weight in the balancing process.” (Kelso, California’s Constitutional Right to Privacy (1992) 19 Pepperdine L.Rev. 327, 376 [hereafter Kelso].) Our reference to the common law as background to the California constitutional right to privacy is not intended to suggest that the constitutional right is circumscribed by the common law tort. The ballot arguments do not reveal any such limitation. To the contrary, common law invasion of privacy by public disclosure of private facts requires that the actionable disclosure be widely published and not confined to a few persons or limited circumstances. (Rest.2d Torts, § 652D, com. a.) In contrast, the ballot arguments describe a privacy right that “prevents government and business interests from collecting and stockpiling unnecessary information about us and or misusing information gathered for one purpose in order to serve other purposes or to embarrass us.” (Ballot Argument, supra, at p. 27.) Obviously, sensitive personal information may be misused even if its disclosure is limited. By referring to the common law, we seek merely to draw upon the one hundred years of legal experience surrounding the term “privacy” in identifying legally protected privacy interests and in describing the process by which such interests are compared and weighed against other values. That experience suggests that the common law’s insistence on objectively reasonable expectations of privacy based on widely shared social norms, serious violations of those expectations, and thorough consideration of competing interests, is an invaluable guide in constitutional privacy litigation. (2) The federal constitutional right The ballot arguments refer to the right to privacy as “an important American heritage and essential to the fundamental rights guaranteed by the First, Third, Fourth, and Ninth Amendments to the U.S. Constitution,” thereby invoking the federal constitutional right to privacy as recognized in decisions of the United States Supreme Court. (Ballot Argument, supra, at p. 27.) The Privacy Initiative was placed before the voters following a two-thirds vote of each house of the Legislature. (Cal. Const., art. XVIII, § 1.) Testimony before the Assembly Constitution Committee, together with staff reports and analyses prepared for that committee and the Senate Constitution Committee, makes explicit reference to the federal constitutional right to privacy, particularly as it developed beginning with Griswold v. Connecticut (1965) 381 U.S. 479 [14 L.Ed.2d 510, 85 S.Ct. 1678]. (Kelso, supra, 19 Pepperdine L.Rev. at pp. 468, 473, 475, 477 [reproducing legislative history of Privacy Initiative].) In Griswold, the Supreme Court invalidated a state statute prohibiting the use of contraceptive devices and the giving of medical advice regarding their use. Although the federal Constitution contains no explicit reference to a “privacy” right, the court found implicit in the Bill of Rights provisions cited in the ballot argument—the First, Third, Fourth, and Ninth Amendments— “zones of privacy” emanating from what it called the “penumbras" of the specific constitutional guarantees. The court located within those “zones of privacy” personal decisions made by married persons regarding the use of birth control devices. (Griswold v. Connecticut, supra, 381 U.S. at p. 484 [14 L.Ed.2d at pp. 514-515].) Concurring justices in Griswold sought to place the interest in marital privacy violated by the anticontraception law on other, less “penumbral”, constitutional grounds. (381 U.S. 479: “ ‘tradition and [collective] conscience of our people’ ” regarding fundamental rights manifested in Due Process Clause and Ninth Amendment (id., at p. 493 [14 L.Ed.2d at p. 520]) (conc. opn. of Goldberg, J.); “basic values ‘implicit in the concept of ordered liberty’ ” in Fourteenth Amendment (id., at p. 500 [14 L.Ed.2d at pp. 524-525]) (conc. opn. of Harlan, J.); due process denied because no “end” of government could support state law at issue (id., at p. 507 [14 L.Ed.2d at pp. 528-529]) (conc. opn. of White, J.).) The concurring justices’ approach has been preferred to the more amorphous “penumbral” privacy analysis in at least one recent case. (Cruzan v. Missouri (1990) 497 U.S. 261, 279, fn. 7 [111 L.Ed.2d 224, 242, 110 S.Ct. 2841] [right to refuse medical treatment analyzed as Fourteenth Amendment liberty interest rather than part of right to privacy].) The Supreme Court has included within the post-Griswold implicit right to privacy “certain rights of freedom of choice in marital, sexual, and reproductive matters,” but has not recognized a general right to engage in sexual activities done in private. (3 Rotunda & Nowak, Treatise on Constitutional Law (2d ed. 1992) § 18.26, p. 298; cf., e.g., Roe v. Wade (1973) 410 U.S. 113 [35 L.Ed.2d 147, 93 S.Ct. 705] and Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey (1992) 505 U.S__[120 L.Ed.2d 674, 112 S.Ct. 2791] [abortion laws struck down in part and upheld in part]; Webster v. Reproductive Health Services (1989) 492 U.S. 490 [106 L.Ed.2d 410, 109 S.Ct. 3040] [same] with Bowers v. Hardwick (1986) 478 U.S. 186 [92 L.Ed.2d 140, 106 S.Ct. 2841] [consensual homosexual sodomy law upheld].) The Fourth Amendment’s search and seizure clause is sometimes referred to as a “privacy” provision. (See, e.g., Treasury Employees v. Von Raab (1989) 489 U.S. 656, 672 [103 L.Ed.2d 685, 706, 109 S.Ct. 1384].) The Fourth Amendment does not proscribe all searches and seizures, but only those that are unreasonable. (Skinner v. Railway Labor Executives’ Assn. (1989) 489 U.S. 602, 619 [103 L.Ed.2d 639, 661, 109 S.Ct. 1402].) Under the Fourth Amendment and the parallel search and seizure clause of the California Constitution (art. I, § 13), the reasonableness of particular searches and seizures is determined by a general balancing test “weighing the gravity of the governmental interest or public concern served and the degree to which the [challenged government conduct] advances that concern against the intrusiveness of the interference with individual liberty.” (Ingersoll v. Palmer (1987) 43 Cal.3d 1321, 1338 [241 Cal.Rptr. 42, 743 P.2d 1299].) Collectively, the federal cases “sometimes characterized as protecting ‘privacy’ have in fact involved at least two different kinds of interests. One is the individual interest in avoiding disclosure of personal matters, and another is the interest in independence in making certain kinds of important decisions.” (Whalen v. Roe (1977) 429 U.S. 589, 598-600 [51 L.Ed.2d 64, 73, 97 S.Ct. 869] [hereafter Whalen], fns. omitted.) The former interest is informational or data-based; the latter involves issues of personal freedom of action and autonomy in individual encounters with government. The distinction between the two interests is not sharply drawn—disclosure of information, e.g., information about one’s financial affairs, may have an impact on personal decisions and relationships between individuals and government. (Plante v. Gonzalez (5th Cir. 1978) 575 F.2d 1119, 1130, cert. den. (1979) 439 U.S. 1129 [59 L.Ed.2d 90, 99 S.Ct. 1047].) The diversity of federal constitutional “privacy” interests has left the federal right to privacy, especially in its comprehensive “penumbral” sense, without any coherent legal definition or standard. In privacy cases involving informational interests, the federal courts have generally applied balancing tests that avoid rigid “compelling interest” or “strict scrutiny” formulations. (See, e.g., Whalen, supra, 429 U.S. 589 [upholding state statute requiring drug prescriptions to be reported to a state government agency]; Nixon v. Administrator of General Services (1977) 433 U.S. 425, 457-458 [53 L.Ed.2d 867, 899-901, 97 S.Ct. 2777] [sustaining archivists’ right of access to presidential papers against individual president’s privacy claim]; see also Doe v. Attorney General (9th Cir. 1991) 941 F.2d 780, 796 [in informational privacy cases, “courts balance the government’s interest in having or using the information against the individual’s interest in denying access”]; Plante v. Gonzalez, supra, 575 F.2d at p. 1134 [public official financial disclosure law case; court applies balancing test, confining strict scrutiny to serious intrusions of specific autonomy rights such as marriage, family, and contraception].) When it is applied, strict scrutiny generally functions as a judicial “trump card,” invalidating any attempt at state regulation because the state’s interest is rarely sufficiently compelling to justify abridgement of the right. (See, e.g., First National Bank of Boston v. Bellotti (1978) 435 U.S. 765, 786 [55 L.Ed.2d 707, 724, 98 S.Ct. 1407]; Loving v. Virginia (1967) 388 U.S. 1,11 [18 L.Ed.2d 1010, 1017-1018, 87 S.Ct. 1817]; Gunther, The Supreme Court, 1971 Term (1972) 86 Harv.L.Rev. 1, 8 [strict scrutiny is “ ‘strict’ in theory and fatal in fact”].) But the Supreme Court has not endorsed strict scrutiny for all privacy-based interests at all conceivable levels of intrusion. Even in specific fields of federal privacy protection, such as abortion rights, the high court has experienced difficulty articulating a consistent standard of review. (Compare, e.g., Roe v. Wade, supra, 410 U.S. at pp. 155-156 [35 L.Ed.2d at pp. 178-179] [reference to “compelling state interest”] with Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey, supra, 505 U.S. at p._[120 L.Ed.2d at pp. 713-715, 742-743, 748-749, 112 S.Ct. at pp. 2820, 2842, 2847] [court unable to arrive at majority position regarding legal standard to measure burdens on abortion rights: three justices favor “undue burden” standard, one justice “strict scrutiny,” five justices various other rules and standards].) In summary, outside the separate context of Fourth Amendment searches and seizures, the “penumbral” federal constitutional right to privacy has been applied to intrusions by the government into a narrow and defined class of personal autonomy interests in contraceptive and reproductive decisions. There is at least some prospect that what have been regarded as “privacy” interests may henceforth be viewed as Fourteenth Amendment “liberty” interests in federal constitutional analysis. (See, e.g., Cruzan v. Missouri, supra, 497 U.S. 261.) But whatever predictions one might hazard, the murky character of federal constitutional privacy analysis at this stage teaches that privacy interests and accompanying legal standards are best viewed flexibly and in context. b. Elements of a Cause of Action for Invasion of the State Constitutional Right of Privacy Our cases do not contain a clear statement of the elements of a cause of action for invasion of the state constitutional right to privacy. Plaintiffs and Stanford succeeded in convincing the lower courts that the NCAA was required to justify any conceivable impact on plaintiffs’ privacy interests by a “compelling interest” and to establish that its drug testing program was the “least restrictive” alternative furthering the NCAA’s interests. The NCAA assails the “compelling interest/least restrictive alternative” test; plaintiffs and Stanford naturally come to its defense. We consider the positions of the parties in light of the history of the Privacy Initiative. Our Privacy Initiative jurisprudence emanates from White v. Davis, supra, 13 Cal.3d 757. In White, we upheld against a general demurrer a taxpayer’s complaint seeking to enjoin expenditures of public funds for a police department’s covert surveillance of university classes at the University of California at Los Angeles. (Id. at p. 773.) The complaint alleged a level of “extensive, routine, covert police surveillance of university classes and organization meetings” that was “unprecedented in our nation’s history.” (Id. at p. 776.) According to plaintiffs ¿negations, police informants and undercover agents disguised themselves as students, attended university functions, and compiled dossiers of statements made by others in attendance, despite the absence of any illegal activity. Because White arose on the pleadings, we necessarily assumed the truth of plaintiffs allegations and intimated no view regarding the ultimate question, i.e., whether plaintiffs state and federal constitutional rights had been violated by the challenged conduct of law enforcement authorities. (White v. Davis, supra, 13 Cal.3d at p. 776.) Focusing on plaintiffs’ rights to academic freedom and freedom of expression, we held the facts as alleged revealed government conduct “likely to pose a substantial restraint upon the exercise of First A