We were promised security and convenience. Somewhere along the way we got permanent surveillance.
Privacy was a simpler concept two-and-a-half decades ago. We had computers, cell phones, the internet, and DVDs. We weren’t carrying GPS in our pockets, wearing health monitors, or voluntarily sending our DNA to private companies. And we definitely weren’t surrounded by cameras everywhere we went.
Then September 11th happened, forever changing our relationship with surveillance.
The government’s ability to conduct counterterrorism measures and gather information on private citizens rapidly expanded thanks to the passing of legislation like the Authorization for Use of Military Force (AUMF) and the Patriot Act.
The explanations given at the time were understandable. After all, if collecting more information could prevent another attack, shouldn’t we do it?
It was a difficult argument to reject after 9/11.
And while the government broadened surveillance in the name of security, the commercial internet was building an entirely different surveillance machine.
Google, Facebook, and Amazon have all learned about our searches, likes, purchases, and click-throughs. Initially, targeted advertising was marketed as a convenience, but we’ve all witnessed its inevitable evolution.
Then cell phones revolutionized the way we interact with the world by making everything mobile.
Your phone, browser, apps, car, smartwatch, and Oura Ring can all track your location, search history, stress levels, driving patterns, daily routines, health metrics, menstrual cycles, and sleep patterns. And we willingly bought all of it, allowing technology to build detailed profiles of our lives, bodies, and preferences.
That’s what makes modern privacy so complicated: a lot of these technologies are genuinely useful. Security cameras can deter or solve crime. Health trackers can identify heart palpitations. License-plate readers can help locate stolen vehicles or missing individuals.
Security is a potent justification for data collection, and this is where the slippery slope begins. A Ring camera installed to safeguard your residence can inadvertently capture footage of neighbors passing by. A license-plate reader designed to identify stolen cars can generate records of locations visited by ordinary citizens. What happens when a system initially constructed for a specific purpose can be used for another?
Because there’s a huge difference between “this info could help in a specific investigation” and “let’s build a system that collects everyone’s info just in case we might need it someday.”
Meanwhile we’re giving away intimate information in ways that don’t even feel like surveillance.
Amazon knows whether you overnighted tampons or pregnancy tests. Your grocery store knows you’re definitely not a vegan. Your credit card knows exactly how you spend your money. And at this point a genealogy company probably has something you can’t change: your DNA.
Your searches, purchases, location, browsing history, and health data can now provide enough clues for companies to make shockingly accurate guesses about who we are, what we’re doing, and what we might do next. And once this information exists, there’s no guarantee it stays in the hands of the company that collected it. Our personal data can be shared, sold, stolen, breached, subpoenaed, or otherwise obtained by the government.
We’ve spent 25 years being told that giving up a little privacy would make us safer, more efficient, and more connected. And in many cases, it has. That’s what makes surveillance in the name of security so complicated.
The problem isn’t that every camera, health app, or internet cookie is inherently evil.
The problem is how easily “we need this to keep people safe” can turn into “how else can we use this data?”.
Privacy didn’t disappear overnight. We gradually normalized giving it up one checkbox, security camera, loyalty program, and targeted ad at a time.
Maybe the question isn’t just “where the hell did our privacy go?”, but “how much are we willing to give away before deciding enough is enough?”.