Call On Your Cell Phone ...

I heard it on the radio. Not the grape vine. It was part of some kind of advertisement or announcement. I don't remember which, but that's not important. What mattered was that for participation in the particular program all you had to do was call or register on your cell phone.

And only a few days before that I received an announcement from the Social Security Administration that they were implementing a new program that was designed to increase security by posting passwords to your cell phone. (See "Simplify, Simplify, Simplify," – August 1, 2016.)   The password would change with each use, so it would make hacking more difficult. All you had to do was request a password on your computer when you wanted to access your mySocialSecurity account, and they would send a one-use password to access the site. Brilliant.

Unfortunately there are problems. I don't have a cell phone. They've developed the program with the assumption that everyone has one, and it just ain't so. (They also require texting ability which limits the audience still further.) Even a computer is considerably less than universal. I suspect there are other ways than cell phones with texting to get the information provided, since there is a question in their FAQ section dealing with this particular issue. However when that question is “clicked” all that is provided is information about how to contact them. No answer to the question. I didn't pursue the issue because I didn't really care. I don't have a “mySocialSecurity” account. Actually I didn't even know those accounts existed – though the program probably provides lots of taxpayer-supported jobs for voters – and I've done very well without participation.

That's not the point, though. What is really involved is the assumption that everyone has a cell phone, and knows how to text. It's called “progress,” and it's clear that it's the way we're headed. There was a time when the assumption that we had a refrigerator, or a telephone, or even electricity, was unreasonable, but they are now, along with television and such things, the basic implements of our culture, and soon enough the texting telephone, and devices we haven't even thought of, will be ubiquitous as well.

But we're not there yet. Every other day we hear about a computer system that's been hacked or fails for some other reason. A few days ago I heard on a travel program that it was best to make a hard copy of your airline boarding pass before going to the airport and not relying on what's on your cell phone. That would allow you to check in even if there's a computer failure.

And, as if on cue, Delta's computers were down this morning – they blamed it on an electrical problem – and they were forced to delay or cancel numerous flights. I don't know if the paper boarding passes were of any value, but the situation demonstrated the risks of relying on computers and cell phones. And it's hardly the first time this has happened. It seems that every couple of weeks there is a problem with the computer system of one airline or another, or the hacking of some business's computer system, along with credit card and Social Security numbers. Plenty of room for identity theft, the crime most in vogue right now. As is the theft and ransoming of data on a wide variety of devices.

Even worse is the hacking of the computers of Government bureaus and public officials. Much of it is done as part of spying programs – both political and industrial – and the identification of agents has cost the lives of many on all sides, along with other necessary state secrets. (We pride ourselves on “transparency,” but there is probably no greater enemy of international diplomacy than that. Nowadays WikiLeaks is providing the transparency.) Of less human consequence is the loss of industrial secrets and intellectual property, though these are also significant casualties in the modern competition between good and bad.

I don't mean to suggest that modern technology is bad. While I may be a troglodyte, I recognize what is happening. And I guess it's a good thing. (I can't stop it anyway, so why waste my time? Que sera, sera.) Just as telephones became standard, so will computers and cell phones. But perhaps we're moving too fast. We're responding to marketing rather than common sense. Perhaps we're so determined to have the latest and the best that we're less concerned about the safest. And we're suffering for it. It's time to stop, take a deep breath, and count to seven (we rush even that).

It's one thing to perfect our spying in order to deal with other countries and to protect our own security and systems, but it's quite another to put our own data and civilization at risk. However important progress is, we're better off if we devote our best brains to protecting ourselves before we let the glamour of modern toys make us vulnerable to those who would take advantage of us.

Can I borrow your cell phone to report the problem?

Lean Back And Enjoy It

Last week I talked about the schizophrenic reaction that the American people have to the dissemination of information. I didn't use that term – it doesn't stem from a psychiatric disorder but from a love-affair with technology, inattention and denial – and it is, perhaps, misleading. It is, however, clear that the public protests raised by the disclosure of the NSA's collection of telephone records can't be taken at face value.

There's no stopping progress, and we all embrace it. Perhaps excessively. It didn't take long after the introduction of the social media for them to become the megaⁱphenomenon they are now. Building on Friendster, MySpace, and LinkedIn, among others, Facebook was initiated at Harvard as a service for students in 2004. “The rest,” as they say, “is history.” Facebook passed the one billion member mark in 2012 and now has over 1.1 billion users. And every one of them is looking for friends.ⁱⁱ

There are many different kinds of social media – for friendship, advertising, job hunting, photo sharing, searching for old friends, and lots of others. So it isn't surprising that the numerous users have accepted, and become accustomed to, the sharing of information electronically. Some of it, probably a small minority, serves an actual purpose other than show and tell. But most of it consists of the narcissistic display of unfiltered – and usually inane – thoughts and bragging; of photographs illustrating the poverty of the “sharer's” existence; of personal appeals for friendship or companionship; of “clever” comments on the submissions of others; of pornography, advertising, and, in all likelihood, disguised and coded messages of spies and terrorists; and similar self-destructive or dangerous material. We're happy to give away information,ⁱⁱⁱ but we don't always rejoice in the fact that others may be taking it.

So, with the impulse to share all that comes to mind, and the knowledge that we're not alone in that endeavor, it's hard to believe that people didn't realize that governments^iv would do the same thing.^v Only they would probably try to use them less for trivial gossiping and more for the gathering of information, including, but not limited to, that which we're so eager to share. But that sharing is more than we bargained for. According to De Beers, “Diamonds are forever.” So's the internet.^vi Postings may come back to haunt us after many years^vii and access is available to everyone, unless steps are taken to block it. There can be no presumption of privacy in anything we post. And we all know it. We just don't care. In fact we're flattered when someone takes notice of us. At least until we find out that it's the government.^viii

It's disingenuous, though, to express surprise and horror that others are doing the same things we do. And it's similarly hypocritical to demand that we be protected by our government at the same time we're taking away the tools they believe they need to provide that protection.^ix The NSA will certainly be changed because of the outcry resulting from the revelation of what most people already knew – that the government had access to records of all the telephone calls in which we participate. In so many of the crime shows we watch on television the police review the logs of all calls to and from the suspect. Someone has kept the records that makes this possible. Are those records always used? Not unless there is reason to do so.^x That's what the NSA does, only they do it better than the police. Some, admittedly a minority, of the information will be useful in providing security, though its value will decrease with every disclosure about its nature and with every limitation in its use. So changes will be made. The public demands them. But assuming the surveillance serves a purpose, some method will have to be found to achieve the same results under a different guise. And it will be found. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.                  

1984 arrived several years ago. It arrived because, though we deny it and fight it, we wanted the tools that make it possible. There were some who warned that this is where our love of technology would lead, but our desire for “progress” trumped any concerns we had that the availability of information would be a threat. Indeed, I suspect, if the American People were now offered the opportunity of ending government use of electronic technology by ending its use by individuals as well, they would reject such a plan. And, in the unlikely event that they accepted such a concept, we'd all be under the control of those elsewhere who weren't so inclined. The protection which we sought from society – the “common defence” [sic] – would be surrendered.

For better or worse, we've crossed the Rubicon. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. You certainly can't change 'em. Constitutional government in general, the Second Amendment in particular, representation in Congress, and the ACLU notwithstanding, you're not going to defeat the government, so you might as well accept the programs they impose on you. Lean back and enjoy it. Perhaps the worse it tastes, the better it is for you.

Perhaps not.

Next episode: “I Think I Missed Something” – The trouble with passion.

 

 

I       Originally it meant “million” in a combining form, but, especially in this computer age, it has come to mean BIG. Or, as Ed Sullivan would have put it, “Reeeally Big.” Huge, in fact.

ii      Often in the wrong places. Some of the “friends” we find have agendas different from ours.

iii     To confirm this, all you have to do is to listen to talk radio, or to read the endless comments and debates on line following some controversial article. People like to express their opinions (I know I do) no matter how silly they are. (Mine, as you know by now, are well-reasoned and incontrovertible.)

iv      Our own, and those of our friends and enemies.

v       They'd also do it far better than we.

vi      In the beginning, at least (according to Jewish tradition) since the Law was given to Moses at Mount Sinai, there was the “written” law (that which was recorded in the Bible) and the “oral” law, that which was passed down from generation to generation by word of mouth. Eventually, out of fear that it would be forgotten or corrupted, this too was written down. That was cutting edge technology in those days. Now we enter what we know in computers, and it will live forever. That includes telephone records.

vii     See “Delete: The Virtue of Forgetting in the Digital Age” by Viktor Mayer-Schönberger

viii    We fear that “the government,” or, more accurately, government officials, will misuse the information. That's not an irrational concern but it must be balanced against the probabilities that the information will probably never be used at all and, if it is, that it will be used for our benefit.

ix      Requiring “transparency” makes it far easier, faster, and cheaper for our enemies to keep tabs on our defenses and it makes it far harder to negotiate plans and policies, to work out compromises, and to craft treaties.

x       Even if information has no immediate applicability, the possibility of a future need for it cannot be ignored. (That's why we have archives and libraries.) There is no such thing as “useless information,” only information that has no application at a particular time. The ability to respond to a threat quickly because data can be obtained rapidly is something that has obvious value. It may be argued that failure to do so – to prepare for potential future threats – is contrary to our country's interests.

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.