Plausible Deniability

 

My time of day is the dark time
A couple of deals before dawn
When the street belongs to the cop
And the janitor with the mop
And the grocery clerks are all goneⁱ

That's my time, too. It varies though, since dawn comes up at different times at different times of the year. And in my neighborhood the streets are mostly empty. No cops and no janitors. There's an occasional car which is usually driven by someone delivering newspapers to the houses nearby, or other things to the one store open at that ridiculous hour for the convenience of people on their way to work. They value a hot cup of joe to keep their eyes open as they drive.

I value the solitude; the quiet, and the time to think, provided by a walk through the empty streets, and the cool, or even cold, air of the morning. It's peaceful and it's private. I am unobserved and I am unsupervised.

Sky Masterson wanted to share his “time” with Miss Sarah Brown, and no one else. And that was possible at the time the story was written because it was before the time of video surveillance at every corner and at every store. But there is no privacy now in many areas, notwithstanding the Supreme Court's decision that it is a Constitutional right. Fortunately there are no camerasⁱⁱ along my early morning route so I can relax.

Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg also wanted privacy. In their case it was from the listening ears of Nazi intelligence officers. So they went for a hike in the Danish countryside. What they discussed wasn't recorded and they described their conversation differently, but there is no actual record documenting what they said. They wanted privacy and secrecy and they got both. As did “Andrey Botvinnik” and “John Honeyman,” who took walks in the woods near Geneva. Their conversations, in Lee Blessing's play,ⁱⁱⁱ conversations believed to be based on those of Soviet and American diplomats, involved nuclear policy and were unofficial discussions between two men who came to be friends. The conversations were off the record and the men could change their minds without international repercussions. Whatever they said could be denied. Plausible deniability is a valued and proper tool in government – even if it may seem to be unethical. But if something like WikiLeaks comes along it is hard to deny what was not intended for publication in the first place. Privacy in conversation, and the discipline not to reduce all our thoughts to the permanent record, are our best protections against nosiness and the urge to “let it all hang out.” There's no hiding from a working paper which may later be changed because it is recognized to be ill-considered, but which, in the meanwhile, found its way into the hands of someone more interested in “transparency” than laudable motives and results.

Those days, sadly, are over – the days of privacy and secrecy. You have to be suspicious of those you're with – even those you consider friends. With the miniaturization of transmitters, unsuspected everyday objects, like buttons or pens, can betray your words to others. And there are long-distance listening devices as well. The woods are no longer safe, even if you're talking to yourself.

But it does not require hidden cameras or transmitters. Surveillance cameras are everywhere and we have stopped noticing them. But more frightening to me is the fact that almost everyone carries around some sort of recording device. It may be a video camera or even a camera telephone. In some ways, I suppose, that's a good thing. But for the most part I think it intrusive. In fact, the portable telephone itself is not for me. I don't need to “touch” someone at all times. And I don't want to be called when I'm looking for privacy. Nor do I want to hear the conversations of others, which often shatter the peace I seek.^iv I don't need to hear someone screaming into the telephone what ought to be private information. I don't want to know. And I don't need to have my life placed at risk by another driver who may be more interested in gossip than in the road. There may be laws against such behavior, but they're violated so frequently that they might as well not exist. We certainly don't have the means to enforce them.^v

The unseen threats to our privacy are even worse. They're worse, in large part, because even if we know they're there, we don't think about them or recognize what they can do. We may even view them favorably if we are aware of their presence. Having a GPS chip which can connect to a distant site may be of help in locating us if there's an emergency. But most of the time there's no emergency. Even so, our telephones, GPS navigation system, hand-held computers and similar devices know where we are at all times. We're never alone, even when we want to be.

I admit it. I'm a hermit. So I may be oversensitive to intrusions. And I know there is no stopping what we view as progress, whether I like it or not. But, perhaps, technology, and its detritus, are coming at us too fast. Perhaps what we want is overwhelming what we need. I'm convinced that it is. I suspect that too many people are so seduced by the wizardry, the newly discovered abilities, the speed, and the convenience, that they are blinded to the implications. What looks as if it is freeing them is actually doing the opposite. Mae West thought “too much of a good thing can be wonderful.” But it can also be destructive.

Bohr and Heisenberg once hiked to Elsinore – the site of Hamlet's castle. Hamlet had his demons, in the form of ghosts. I have mine too. But they're in the form of Big Brother, and all my little brothers and sisters all around who may be watching me. Leave me alone. I just want peace and quiet. I don't want Sarah Brown, or anyone else, not even Mae West, sharing my private time.  I want to be alone.

Next episode: “I've Got It Coming” – Don't I?

i     Sky Masterson, from Guys and Dolls, by Frank Loesser.

ii     As far as I know.

iii    A Walk in the Woods, 1986.

iv    Nor do I need or want to hear the loud racket of ring tones which are presented to me from the pockets of others wherever I go, and most annoyingly during a concert or religious service.

v    At least not at present. The time will come, however, when automobile manufacturers will not only remove the devices they've already installed – telephones, computer screens, and the like – but will find a way, when the engine is running, to deactivate those brought into their vehicles from outside. Or at least those in the front seat. Taxi and bus drivers may get edgy without their telephones and intercoms, but we'll all be safer. Even GPS's are distracting.