Abstracting Privacy, Part 3

On a visit to Boston in the 1980s, I saw an exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts of historical and cultural artifacts from medieval Japan. The exhibit, on loan from a Japanese museum, contained spectacular kimonos, screens, ceramics and calligraphy instruments. It also included a display of armor and weaponry, including swords from some of the most renowned sword smiths of the period. Even though the swords were hundreds of years old they were national treasures, and as pristine as if they had been commissioned that very day. Several thoughts came to mind all at once: the legendary craftsmanship of the samurai sword maker; the fact that even at rest inside a glass display case, the weapons’ brilliant ergonomic curvature and plainly visible sharp edges combined to imply (if not demand outright) an act yet to be completed; and, also that these were some of the most beautiful killing machines ever created. Then it became apparent that there are essentially two ways to regard such an object: to imagine using it, or to imagine having it used against you. To simply regard it as extraordinary metallurgy or the highest expression of a set of design principles doesn’t take full account of what it actually is.

I’m often reminded of that museum visit as I think about our digital-technological future. As we benefit from and enjoy our connectedness via digital technologies — the internet, global positioning systems, social media, texting, etc. — we would do well to remain mindful of what it actually is. Most Americans have by now had the experience of entering their address into Google Earth and seeing a satellite photo of their address appear instantly on the computer monitor. As unsettling as the experience was for me, even more troublesome was how recent the images were. On one occasion it was seeing where I had parked my car the day before — not my usual parking spot because I got to my office building later than usual. Another time it was seeing the brand new roof on my home, finished just days earlier. Even though Google is a private company and is not as far as we know in collusion with the government (at least not in this country), such an experience as the one described above gives a glimpse into a surveillance infrastructure that would have been the fondest dream of the Stasi, the KGB or Hoover’s FBI. And even though some communities abroad have taken exception to Google Maps cataloguing their every street, intersection and traffic light, the overall impression one gets is that to object is to swim against the tide. But even though there’s obviously no turning back, perhaps it is still worthwhile to be circumspect, and take full account of this new reality.