Aproposed ordinance governing landlords in Provo raises troubling questions of constitutionality. At least three provisions are completely unacceptable in a free society, and a fourth is questionable.

The ordinance, which is still under review and could be rejected or changed significantly, is being touted as a crime-fighting measure modeled after ordinances in South Salt Lake and Ogden. That's only partly true; there are key differences.

South Salt Lake and Ogden charge fees to landlords for each rental unit. The carrot is that if the landlords sign up for the municipality's anti-crime program, the fees are lowered to a nominal sum. That, advocates say, makes it a voluntary program.

Provo's draft ordinance is mandatory, not voluntary. As currently drafted, the ordinance would:

• Mandate that landlords conduct criminal background checks on all would-be renters -- except for students attending a college with an honor code, which obviously means BYU.

• Require written contracts that contain certain eviction language.

• Require a landlord to serve an eviction notice on a tenant within five days of the discovery of substantial evidence of criminal activities on the premises -- in effect making the landlord a judge and jury.

• Require landlords or proprety managers to take part in a city program every two years advising them how to reduce crime.

Of course it makes sense for landlords to run background checks before renting property to someone. But forcing them to do so is something else. If a landlord has no objection to a person with a past criminal history as a renter, he should be free to associate with that person if he so chooses.

Advocates say that the measure is really a health and safety move prodding landlords to do things they ought to do anyway. This may be. But again, "ought" and "must" are not the same thing in terms of individual rights. No anti-crime program or health program should infringe on basic rights, as this proposal clearly does.

First of all, it is an affront to standards of fairness and equality to, in effect, exempt BYU students from the background checks required of all others. It plainly excuses one special class of people -- 98 percent of whom are from a specific religious group. The city can no more do that than it could allow motorists who were UVU students to ignore speed limits, or give Baptist drivers permission to run red lights.

City officials say they are confident the honor code clause would survive legal challenges. But state and federal housing officials interviewed by the Herald, along with civil rights attorneys, were dubious. In any case, such a clause would set the city up unnecessarily for a discrimination lawsuit.

Clearly, all BYU students are not immune to legal problems. A random background check on BYU students would likely reveal a lawbreaking pattern similar to students at other institutions in America -- or, at best, a somewhat milder pattern. What we would not see is a student population with zero incidence of lawlessness. Therefore, protecting BYU students is discriminatory on its face.

Councilman George Stewart, the council's vice chairman, said he's leaning toward a manatory system. Making the current provisions mandatory would plainly undercut the right of landlords to make a voluntary civil contract with provisions of their own choosing -- one of the basic rights underpinning our society. Moreover, the First Amendment right of association includes the right to do business with whomever you want. Perhaps a landlord is willing to take a chance on a tenant with a checkered past. That's his own business.

The city should be leery of targeting renters. A law that classes them as a group requiring special treatment leaves a bad taste. And even people convicted of crimes deserve fair treatment. The ordinance would not force landlords to reject those with a criminal record, but it obviously puts pressure on them to do so.

It's not that ex-criminals have special rights; certainly landlords should be able to choose whom they will rent to within the limits of established law. But people who have served a sentence for a crime have presumably paid their debt to society. (Or, if they are on probation, they are paying it.) They need to get on with their lives, and they can't do it if they can't find a place to live. To see what we mean, imagine what it would be like if other Utah towns adopted similar ordinances, in effect discouraging those with criminal pasts from renting anywhere. Would all of those folks just move out of state? Or live in tents?

Certainly fighting crime is a worthwhile goal. But this ordinance goes way too far. Even where it passes legal scrutiny, it raises troubling questions. We urge the council to reject the whole notion that landlords and tenants need special watching by city authorities.