It’s evident from the opening pages of “The Rights of the People” that this is going to be a very different book from “Arab and Jew” or, for that matter, Shipler’s most recent previous effort, “The Working Poor.” Those were both works of reportage in which Shipler relied heavily on a cast of memorable characters to lend a sense of immediacy and nuance to the complicated issues he was tackling. In “The Rights of the People,” Shipler is less curious reporter than outraged editorialist. He will not be accused of understating his case. On the contrary, he has a tendency to undermine it with hyperbole, closing his preface with a radical assertion that would not find much purchase in either George W. Bush’s or Barack Obama’s White House or, indeed, among the public at large: “The most terrifying possibility since 9/11 has not been terrorism — as frightening as that is — but the prospect that Americans will give up their rights in pursuing the chimera of security.”

It stands to reason that breaches of individual liberties would be most common and egregious in times of war, and a quick glance backward reveals that that has certainly been the case. From the 1798 assault on free speech known as the Alien and Sedition Acts, designed to squelch criticism during America’s undeclared naval war with France, to the infamous cold-war-era investigations of the House Un-American Activities Committee, the specter of conflict has invariably brought with it a paranoia of internal subversion. As Shipler writes: “In practically every war, it seems, those wielding the authority of the state were gripped with a galvanizing fear, not just of the enemy abroad but of an imagined virus of resistance and subversion at home.”

Historically, a healthy dose of retrospective shame, the genius of our independent judiciary and, above all, the resilience of our Constitution have helped ensure that any statutes or policies rashly undertaken while in the grip of such fear didn’t survive for long. The rule of law ultimately prevails. Or it did, Shipler writes, until recently. But since 9/11, he says, the system has yet to self-correct. Fundamental freedoms taken away in the aftermath of the attacks have still not been restored.

The violations have ranged across the constitutional spectrum, but in this first volume Shipler concentrates on the Fourth Amendment, which, in principle anyway, protects citizens from unreasonable searches and seizures. His approach can feel scattershot, but it coheres to a certain logic. After a brief history lesson, he takes to the ground, observing the police in some Washington, D.C., neighborhoods as they prod suspects to voluntarily waive their Fourth Amendment rights, and turn houses upside down under the cover of search warrants often based on “dubious tips” from “sleazy sources.” “In the deepening dusk of a back alley near the railroad tracks,” he writes, “the Constitution seemed like a faded idea.”

From here, Shipler retreats into more clandestine and politicized activity, to the shadowy realm of the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act and of National Security Letters, which under the Patriot Act expanded the powers of F.B.I. field offices, allowing them to do things like demand computer records from public libraries. He follows the case of Brandon Mayfield, an Oregon lawyer and United States military veteran, whose home and office were covertly searched and bugged after he was mistakenly suspected of being involved in the 2004 train bombings in Madrid.