Too Much Information

Capital One, in advertising its credit card, asks everyone “What's in your wallet?” Mostly garbage, I assume. Including too many credit cards. We live, at least in this part of the world, amidst excess. There's too much of everything – at least the things you would be better off without.

Let me give an example. The last time you looked at your snail mail, how much was pertinent and how much was junk mail? (And the same is true of e-mail, which is the reason that so many people have stopped looking at it.) If it's anything like mine it's primarily junk – catalogs, ads, bulk mailings from organizations that somehow or other got my address, political mailings, and wrong addresses – with very little of any consequence. Most of the envelopes go on the recycle pile (apart from form letters with blank backs that we recycle in our printer) after wasting too much of my time. In all fairness I have to admit that it's my wife's time. I wouldn't waste mine on the junk.

Perhaps if that were the extent of the problem it would be tolerable. But it isn't, so it isn't. Don't answer your telephone. It's a “robo” call or some other kind of auditory spam. Especially during “silly season.” Political calls seem to come in every few minutes – usually robot calls not blocked by mechanisms that stop other robo calls. I'm glad I still have the strength to get up and answer them – and hang up immediately – but I resent them. My electoral choice is often the one who bothers me least by 'phone or mailing, and the one whose message is positive rather than a rant about the other candidate. Even after my visit to the polls I get calls from the party in which I enrolled (stupidly) years ago to ask me if I have voted. It's the most active time of year for politicians who never seem to be interested in getting any kind of useful legislation passed. They're too busy. (Try calling them and you'll only get an aide whose salary you, as a taxpayer, are supplying.) Except for catering to the needs of contributors and those who can assure them of lots of publicity. (A significant number of laws named after unfortunate individuals fall into this category. Call something “Gretchen's Law” and there's certain to be wide coverage. One of the things of which we have an excess are named laws.)

It shouldn't be surprising. Scientists tell us the Universe is expanding, so shouldn't we expect the same of everything else? Since I don't know (or, frankly, care) how fast that is I can't determine if the rate of junk mail is or isn't exceeding it. Whether or not it is, it's clearly coming too fast.

But the most rapd expansion is in one of the products of science and technology – the internet and its children. Search for something on Google^® for example and, unless the search terms are very restrictive, you'll get more responses than you can deal with. And they're not always reliable. Too many are sucked into the trap of accepting what they read as fact and ignoring the advice of real experts as they defer to the views and prejudices of loud-voiced and opinionated correspondents. The same occurs in other applications. The various social media are absorbing all the free time of too many people. There are, for example, too many useless blogs by those who think they have something to say immediately and need a platform. (I should point out that this is not one of those blogs. Mine, of course, is useful.)

Accompanying the varied, and excessive, postings are too many uninteresting or insipid pictures and videos dealing, mostly, with “cute” children, “amusing” animals, and the views of the same politicians you can't reach. And ads. Targeted ads. Designed to induce your purchase of something you don't need.

Too much. Too much junk mail and telephone calls; too much political blather; too much time wasted on the computer: too many advertisements – not only on the internet but everywhere you look. And they're all detracting from the time that used to be spent thinking, or reading some worthwhile material. Things are moving too fast.

We've lost our focus. Rather than spend our time on activities of value to us we're overwhelmed by everything going on in society, whether or not it's of any consequence. And there's too much that doesn't matter. We're more interested in an idiotic “fact” from the Guinness book than in speaking to our children, or spending time in contemplation. Sadly our children aren't interested in talking to us. They're too busy on their own devices. And they have no interest in contemplation.

Is there any solution to the problem? Not really. The mail and telephone problems will get worse. Portable smartphones will increase and increase the time we spend away from thought. Politics remain as certain as death and taxes. And advertising will only increase over time as it has been doing.

I'm too pessimistic. There is a solution, but very few will follow it. Isolation. That's my approach, and, to a degree, the approach of many families. Don't answer your phone unless you want to speak to the one calling. That takes “caller ID” and some kind of answering machine, but it's worth it. Ditto your mail. Open it only if the return address is that of someone from whom you want to hear. Throw the rest of the mail out. Don't watch television. Resign from Facebook^® and its analogues. Read a classic every now and then. Think.

I suspect you'll view me as a troglodyte. That's OK. The concerns in previous generations were probably similar, but they didn't act on them and we suffer because of it. Shouldn't we protect future generations from society's advances?






May 1, 2017

Too Much Information

Prehistory. Prehistoric.

Before recorded time there was unrecorded time. I'm not talking about the Universe and its origin and age. From time-to-time I suspect that we'll use our limited resources, not too wisely I think, to answer the questions of curious scientists, without improving the lot of those who are paying the bill. But that's neither here nor there, and it certainly isn't the point of this essay.

I'm more interested in the unrecorded time on earth – the time we call “prehistoric.” Even after the appearance of our species – and there are many others as well – we lacked an understandable written language, and the way to record and transmit it. What happened then?

Santayana, and many others have written that the knowledge of the past is invaluable to us in planning our futures and in avoiding past mistakes. We learn. We “stand on the shoulders” of those who preceded us. But we can only do that if we know what they said and what they did. Hence there are archaeologists, who try to reconstruct the past from evidence left by our antecedents even those who didn't know how to record them, or made no attempt to do so.

They left information though. They left evidence of their existence, their interests, and their skills. They may not have left written histories, but there are paintings and tools, cooking fires and burial mounds, and many other artifacts. With detective skills the archaeologists can determine a little of what preceded us and tell us about it.

But if they can do so without information being created intentionally, what will happen when, a few thousand years from now, they try to piece together the twenty-first century, and beyond? Recordings, movies, television tapes, social media – the mass of information provided by entrepreneurs and the self-absorbed will be massive. It already is.

Consider Facebook and YouTube, for example. There's so much on them to sort through. It may be embarrassing, as almost all of it is, but it tells a lot about our society. As do all of the other sites that allow people to express their views – usually on subjects of no interest to anyone but themselves – and to display the photographs and videos that they've taken on the numerous devices they have. It's money down the drain, and they subject all their “friends” to it. Surely they'll be fascinated as we are.

And, of course, there are the blogs, like this one. I'm not immune to polluting the present and the future with my personal views. I know they'll be of no consequence to others, but that's not my problem.

But what about the future. Ultimately others will look back at our time and try to learn from us as we have learned from our past. What will they find? Fortunately we'll never know. If we did, we'd blush or hide. There's far more than we might want to reveal, and there's no taking it back. Once it's on the computer it, like a diamond, is forever. Or is it?

Do you remember eight-track tapes? And Betamax? The formats are no longer produced. And the devices that played them have no value. Do you remember tape cassettes with computer programs, and floppy discs?

Times change. Perhaps in the future the nonsense we produce today will cease to be of value because the information will be incompatible with the devices they have, and they won't have access to it. We can only hope.

They'll still have our paintings and our tools. And our cemeteries. And by then the space explorers will be returning – perhaps not much older if they've really been speeding – so perhaps they can help out. Or, at least, they'll give everyone other things to think about.

The Newest Entitlement

I'm entitled. It's due me, and if I don't get it I've been wronged.” That's the attitude in America today and in many other parts of the world. It's often not clear why folks are certain that they are “entitled” to food, clothing, money, medical care, and other goodies at the expense of others. It's not clear where the idea that “the world owes me a living” came from. Somehow or other people got the impression that they're due anything they consider important, and those who deprive them are unworthy.

The focus of our desires used to be those items that made life easier and more comfortable. Our largest programs to provide these entitlements began under Presidents Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Lyndon Johnson, and, with the aid of Congress and the Judiciary, we are approaching a situation in which the government provides for all our needs.

At least all our physical needs.

Don't fret. Entrepreneurs are filling in some of the gaps (and they'll fill more when they discover that we need more). The need they're filling at present is the need to know everything. Google^® has provided for our need for information, and Facebook^® and its clones deal with our jones for gossip.

But it's not enough. We want governmental “transparency” as well. That's the term used. We're entitled to know everything that's going on. We're citizens (even though most of us don't vote or only vote sporadically) and “We the People” are entitled to know everything being done in our name. The Freedom of Information Act went into effect in 1967 and under its rules we can learn anything we want to know about government functions and actions.

Well, almost anything.

The act allows certain areas to be exempted from the public eye. According to the Department of State they are:

1. classified information for national defense or foreign policy
2. internal personnel rules and practices
3. information that is exempt under other laws
4. trade secrets and confidential business information
5. inter-agency or intra-agency memoranda or letters that are protected by legal privileges
6. personnel and medical files
7. law enforcement records or information
8. information concerning bank supervision
9. geological and geophysical information
   

That's not fair. We want to know everything that's going on. But there are ways that can be accomplished. And there are people who (probably believe – at least some of them – that they) are acting in the public interest by aiding in the effort. So they “leak” government documents and secrets. They maintain that the public should know what is going on. “Secrets” should not be kept secret. If we're paying the bills we should know everything. (Are we entitled to know the secrets of other countries, and are our spies and theirs “fair game?”) The Pentagon Papers, Wikileaks, individuals, and political organizations are the main purveyors of such information – violating the law but feeling virtuous about it. – telling us that they're doing it for us.

And there are organizations that assist the effort. Usually they want their own secrecy regarding involvement, but sometimes they loudly proclaim their involvement. The media, especially The New York Times, glory in scoops – especially in revealing secrets of the government, maintaining it's their right under the First Amendment. While proclaiming our nation's secrets, and those we may have been obtained from our allies, they staunchly protect their own and refuse to reveal the sources of their stories, citing journalistic privileges. (They must protect the source of leaks if they are to get future leaks.) Whether they would honor the privileges of clergy, attorneys, or physicians should they learn something that would make a good story is unclear. If so their revelation of the “Truth” is limited, and their political and economic goal is clear, but at least they're consistent. If not, as with their own “protection of sources,” they are hypocritical.

The social media also help in the spread of information – including revealed secrets – and in any other statements, true or false. People like to be the source of information and don't waste their time checking the facts lest someone else beat them on line. The “likes” they get from passing along information – whether an individual's secrets or state secrets – boost their egos.

A specific form of leaking is also seen in private industry. It's the whistle-blower who makes accusations of wrongdoing, usually by a firm for which he's worked. By doing so he often reveals company secrets. It can be a beneficial service but it's often simply a way for a dysfunctional worker to justify (real or perceived) actions against him. (Similarly accusations of discrimination or abuse are often made, even when untrue.) But the private sector has more. Industrial spying in order to get information is also a way of life – both nationally and internationally. Presumably that kind of revelation of information is just as proper, but we usually condemn it.

There are valid secrets that are necessary in international diplomacy, matters under investigation, and in some of the other exclusions in the State Department list, but there are also pieces of information that should be revealed and instances when secrecy is used to hide errors, foolishness, or misdeeds, and there should be a way to have information about them analyzed without making it public. Perhaps there should be a group of discreet judges or others who would review the leaks and decide if they should be disclosed or remain secret. They should also determine if the information was obtained illegally and its provider subject to discipline.

Of course this will not affect those leaks made by those seeking political advantage, sensationalism, social media “likes,” or newspaper sales. But it's a start. We can't know everything, and we're not entitled to. And those convicted of illegal leaking should be severely punished – especially those who are our employees – those who work for the government. They claim to be acting on our behalf, but when they betray us we should let them know that we are entitled to their honor and loyalty.

May 26, 2017

Mail Call

A frequent scene in World War II battle epics, and in some other old films as well, is mail call. All the men (at that time it was only men) flock about the postal dispenser with the hope and enthusiasm heretofore reserved for Santa Claus. In the end, some of them walk away beaming while others, having lost their hope, mope away empty-handed. Mail was their connection with family, sweethearts, and other friends, and, usually (“Dear John” letters excluded), a morale booster for someone feeling very alone.

I have a friend who, though I don't think he poses any danger to others, is incarcerated for a violation of the criminal code. I correspond with him and I imagine him to be equally desirous of those communications. Letters are his primary connection with the outside world. And there are others like him. Mail is their link with what they remember, and a letter provides some evidence that they are still part of society, even if other privileges are withheld.

There was a time when the letter was treasured, and not something to be mindlessly tossed into the trash. There was a time when people would wait with great anticipation for the arrival of the mail carrier. And although that may have been possible several times a day, there may have been no mail delivered to them for days on end. Magazines were a rarity and bulk-mail hadn't yet become the advertising instrument it is today. Mail was important. There was no junk mail.

Mail is ageless. Whether by voice, written message, smoke, or some other means, people have always felt the need to communicate. Before nations developed postal services, messages were often transported by travelers who were asked to carry notes from one place to another, often to people they didn't know. In ancient Rome Augustus established a courier service for transmission of messages and taxes, but it was much later that national services were established with availability to the public. The first American Post Office was created in 1775, when the Continental Congress appointed Benjamin Franklin as Postmaster General. Both before and subsequently, carriages and horseback riders carried mail, and we've moved on from there – in some places in an organized manner since the sixteenth or seventeenth century. With the nineteenth century (1840) came the first postage stamp, and all the rest is philately.

When I was young (sorry to subject you to this), although we paid our taxes and other bills using the mails, we wrote letters. I learned how to type in elementary school, but when I wrote a letter, I wrote it. (If what arrived was typed it was from someone who could afford a typist, and it was usually a bill.) Every real letter was unique. It was from someone and it was to someone. And it carried unique information of interest to the recipient. Its arrival was often awaited impatiently, and the carrier was often the most important person (apart from family) we saw all day. And reading the letter was one of the highlights of the day.

That letter was handwritten, and often covered several pages. There was so much to say. (We had telephones, but they were expensive to use, and if the call was “long distance” it could be difficult. That was especially the case if it was an “overseas” call and had to be scheduled.) It took a long time to write and a long time to read.

But times change, and so do letters. Duplicating machines made it possible to send out multiple copies of the same letter. Like Christmas letters. The uniqueness was lost but a lot of time was saved. In addition, as telephones improved it became possible to engage in personal dialogue without having to learn to write. Telephones soon earned the love of their users, especially teen-agers who spent inordinate amounts of time on them.

That, too, has changed. What were once standard and modern telephones are now “land lines” and they're disappearing. Along with telephone booths. The telephone is in your pocket or purse or somewhere else on your body. You're carrying it with you and talking as you walk (or drive). It's distracting for you and annoying for everyone around you, but they probably have their own devices anyway, so you won't feel sorry if they're annoyed by you.

Worse. Letters have disappeared. The mail is all junk, and the communication is the product of people's thumbs. It's texting, and neither ability in spelling nor grammar is required. Nor any sound ideas. Longer thoughts come on Facebook or some equivalent, and they tend to be short and confused. No one has time for a real letter, only some social media imitation. 

Much more intelligent letters were ones I got recently from my two year old grandson: lkjdahoieuy rorivn. He wanted to write some letters on his mother's computer. Not long and not handwritten, but meant for me and me alone. From a mail call powered by his enthusiasm I have a message which brings me hope.

Who needs progress?

December 5, 2016

Picture This

Today is my wife's and my anniversary. We were married on June 26, 1960. That's fifty-six years. It was a Sunday. Hanging on the wall is a reproduction of the New York Times front page from that date, and the lead story – upper right hand corner – is titled “Senators' Report Scores Handling of U-2 Incident.” Dates me, doesn't it?

But the same front page dates the Times as well. There are two photographs which comprise a little over eleven percent of the front page – one a poor picture of the back of a Cartier employee and a broken window (there had been a theft of jewelry valued at $30,000) and the other an unexciting representation of some Korean protesters in Japan who opposed a security treaty with the United States. The photographs were black and white.

For comparison I looked at the front page of yesterday's paper (May 10, 2016. As you know, I write these essays in advance) and found that there was about twenty-one percent of it covered with color pictures – seven in all – including advertisements. (There were no ads on our wedding day.) Since the Times's first front page photograph appeared in 1909 (its first photo was in 1896) it's safe to say that while there were pictures fifty-six years after we were wed, there was none fifty-six years before. All the editors could provide were packages of a thousand words each. But those words were spelled correctly and grammatically presented. Those were the days, my friend.

Times (“times,” as well as the New York Times) change. And journalism changes. The media we once knew have been replaced by the personal recording of opinions, facts, and photographs by the ubiquitous reporters of our age – us. While newspapers, magazines, radio, and television haven't disappeared, far more attention world-wide is paid to the social media. Billions of people (including journalists and politicians) have accounts on Facebook^®, Twitter^®, and similar carriers. And very many more have cell phones with cameras in their pockets so they can take pictures of everyone and everything around them.

Times, as I said, change. As is frequently the case the changes were initiated by technological advancements and society's response to them. They represent an improvement over prior methods both of documentation and presentation of information. At least that's the way they're sold.

Pictures have been around – or at least documented – for about forty thousand years. The earliest ones we have are cave paintings. There may have been pictures before that (pictures probably predated language) but no archaeological evidence has been found. That won't be a problem for the archaeologists of the future. Quite the opposite. There will be too many pictures – most of them “selfies” by egotistical members of our species, a species likely to change over the millennia. Those related to the news remain active as long as the news cycle, but they're archived along with the text. They last forever. They never disappear.

There seems to be no end of the pictures posted every day on the internet. The pictures, for the most part lacking any significance, have turned social media into an addiction – one that takes away countless hours of boredom and replaces it with countless hours of pointless gazing – have replaced language with visual images – some of which aren't even real. They're “photoshopped.”

Our vocabulary is decreasing to “like,” “don't like,” “how cute, and “hashtag.” And “emogis.” There's a little more to it, but not much. We used to “reach out and touch someone” with inane speech, but now we do so with even more inane, and repetitive, photographs which we transmit as soon as they're taken. Who cares? Apparently a lot of people do, and they devote all their spare time to gawking at what they've been sent by their countless “friends,” often friends whom they've never met. And language becomes even more abbreviated as we move in the direction of one hundred forty character messages. They make a thousand words seem an unnecessary luxury, if not completely wasteful.

But I'm living in the past. That's what happens when you've been married as long as I. And I like it. Sure we have photos taken when our children were young, but the memories are far more evocative. Our imaginations are now disappearing, but we once used them to fill in the gaps, and flavor our fantasies.

And we talked to each other face to face, using full sentences. Where have all the phrases gone?

A Virtual Life

http://gothamist.com/2016/01/06/fair_lawn_high_school_palestine_twe.php

http://www.nytimes.com/2016/01/07/nyregion/anti-israel-tweets-land-new-jersey-student-in-principals-office.html?_r=0

https://www.rt.com/usa/328218-new-jersey-bullying-tweets/

The articles cited above appeared in the last day or so. They emphasize several things: the anti-Israel attitude of the Tweeter, the right to free speech, and the concept of bullying. While I don't think that any of these is the real problem, let me comment on them first. Briefly. Very briefly. Her attitude – not unusual for a protected, idealistic, but immature and ignorant (I know some will be offended by my “judgmental” use of the words) teen-ager; free speech – she's entitled to it however offensive her remarks may be to some (“If we don't believe in freedom of expression for people we despise, we don't believe in it at all.” -Noam Chomsky, linguistics professor and political activist. He'd probably be a staunch supporter of her views.); bullying – too silly a suggestion to warrant response.

If those were the issues I shouldn't waste my time writing about them, but they're not. I'm sad for the girl, but it's not because of any of the questions I've mentioned. I'm saddened because I suspect that she believes she is performing a public service, and that her words will save the world, or at least demonstrate her “virtue” to everyone. I'm saddened because I think that she is wasting her life in the quest. It's not the subject of her Tweets that concerns me. Whether I agree or disagree with her opinion is irrelevant. And I know there are many others who have expressed the same opinion more publicly and to greater effect. Her words are falling mainly on the screens of like-minded, and equally virtuous, teen-agers, and on the screens of those who will disagree with her vigorously. In the long run, however, they will have no effect and will be soon forgotten.

Of greater concern to me than the message (and, I hope it is of concern to her parents and her school as well) is the messenger. Twitter. And her drowning in it.

According to one of the articles she has sent over 21,000 messages since last February. That's eleven months. About 330 days. Sixty-four or so posts a day. Every day. And it wouldn't surprise me if she reads the messages of others. According to one of the reports she has over 7,000 followers, and many of them probably respond to her Tweets.

She probably follows other posters as well. And reads Facebook. And the other social networks. With eating, sleeping, and school I doubt that she has much time for anything else. And I wonder how much all of this costs her and her parents for access fees, the device itself, and whatever else. I wonder whether she has a real life beyond what she reads on the screen in her hand. She, those who follow her, and those she follows, live vicariously by reaching out to others to whom they may never speak. They substitute what they read about others for their own actions and lives. And by doing so they sacrifice their lives for the privilege.

Another concern of mine relates to the thin skin of the individual who accused her of bullying. But even more so for those who took such a complaint seriously. Our society has become so controlled by the idea of “sensitivity” to the perceived feelings of all its members – to the concepts of offense, and “hate speech” – that we censor the words of others and self-censor our own views so as not to cause discomfort to anyone. Our desire to be “correct” is more harmful to free speech than the words we fear. I can only hope that with time we'll get over this silliness.

The issue of greatest anxiety to me, however, is the fact that the subject of the investigation secretly recorded her conversation with school authorities. It's easy to do nowadays, and it's encouraged by lawyers who want evidence of every “wrong” which may lead to an action. We ourselves have adopted this attitude and this technique even when we don't know how we might use what we obtain. And we certainly use it when we can foresee a use. What better to post than an interaction with an “authority?” It's a technique of tyrants, as well as lawyers, to secretly obtain information about people's views, though they may put that knowledge to a different, and more sinister, use. Nothing is a greater cause of care in what we say, nor inhibits free speech more, than the fear that our words may be used against us by others.

My own concern is not what is happening to the girl who is the center of this dispute, but what she is doing to herself. And I am even more troubled by what we are all doing to ourselves, and to the society in which we live. She has the right to live a virtual life if she so chooses, but she has no right to impose her life on us and make us live in fear.

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.

Who Wants To Know?

A recent news item informed us all that a method was being developed to text 911 calls so they could be made silently, especially useful in the case of an intruder or another emergency. It was assumed that over the next few years we'd have a society in which everyone would have a “smart” cellular telephone with the capability of sending texts. With a GPS in the unit there wouldn't be the need to identify the location – an important consideration for those with limited time and the weight of anxiety causing confusion or otherwise limiting their ability to communicate.  However useful the tool though, the time will come when our privacy will be completely gone.

We're not so far from that society now. And we're certainly a society that revels in the ability to reach out to everyone we know. That used to happen at most once a year – in a mass mailing of a Christmas letter that was designed to let family and friends in on what had happened in the prior year. Now we see it as important to provide “real time” information on our feelings, activities, and ideas to as many of our closest friendsⁱ as we can locate. And in addition to what we've told the world, we can send individual texts and photographs of our pets, dirty dishes, and whatever else we can think of. It's so easy to take pictures with those same telephones and to include them in the messages. After all, we're sure that all our correspondents are interested – more interested than we are in their idiotic productions. And it's all so easy with the various social networks established by the latest group of billionaires.ⁱⁱ

Anyway, we're eager to tell everything to everyone – including internet vendors. We brag about how many “friends” we have. We enjoy the rapid publication of everything we think or “feel,” and we're eager to send immediate status reports and “tweets” to everyone; and to get feeds from the world. We want everyone to know everything about us and we want to know everything about everyone else.ⁱⁱⁱ

Well maybe that's an overstatement. But it's always been important to document and preserve our “selves” and our knowledge. In the past, it was often recorded on scrolls because that was the state of the art. And we might then store it in a warehouse of information that might be accessed at some undefined future time. The library at Alexandria was such a famed repository, but its destruction illustrated the tenuous nature of that attempt at preservation of knowledge. Modern computer systems are far more satisfactory in providing this service. And they should be used to serve the “people” in this goal.

Thus we may want our friends to know everything, but we don't want the government to know anything. It's a paradox. Governments were established for the protection of society but we fear our own more than any other. Espionage has always been around. It was known in the ancient Chinese and Indian civilizations and in Egypt as well. It is documented in the Bible,^iv so it is clear that this is not a new phenomenon. And it's gone on throughout history. “Everyone,” as the saying goes, “does it.” Two famous examples from the American experience are Benedict Arnold and Aldrich Ames. They were “bad guys”; they were spies. It's a given that all nations spy on each other, but that doesn't mean that we don't try to protect ourselves from such activity; yet that doesn't stop us doing the same thing. Only when we do it we term it “intelligence gathering.” Or at least that's what we call it when it's directed against others. When it's aimed at us,^v it's spying.

That's the source of our unhappiness with the NSA. When they collect records of all our telephone calls they're spying on us. It isn't intelligence gathering, it's spying. They may assure us that the material they have merely serves a database which will only be used to track the conversations of those truly threatening our security, but we know better. They may claim that what they're doing is legal and necessary.^vi But they're wrong.  And the courts may support that position, but they're wrong too – if not in fact then in implications. They may tell us that they need these records for future searches, but irrespective of that promise, the files shouldn't be saved. They should really be destroyed.^vii Who knows what use they'll be put to, and by whom.

I don't agree. I recognize the idea that society, and the protection it affords, are worth some sacrifice of privacy^viii in order to minimize the risk from those who oppose us. And I accept the view that information may be collected and saved for future use, information that has no immediate application and may, in fact, never be utilized, but will be available if needed. I have a large library with most of the books never read but they're there if I need to look something up. That's what libraries^ix are for.

Most people have no hesitation about providing information to surveyors and pollsters^x – information that we know will be used in the future – even though it will take time before its value is assessed and its applicability determined. Moreover we have no compunctions about spreading information ourselves which may or may not be accurate, and may or may not be damaging now, or in the future, to others. That information is in the form of gossip, innuendo, rumors, and the like, and we enjoy it greatly. It's OK if we obtain or provide confidential information, but the government has no right to do so.

The public is of two minds about privacy. Most people don't care who's “listening.” In fact, many are pleased by it. So much so that they compete for larger totals of “friends.” The fact that the Library of Congress collects every “tweet” sent is validation. It provides their fifteen minutes of fame. Some, however, are more sensitive. Among them are the ACLU and similar organizations that question the collection of information by any government agency. “Transparency” isn't enough, though they demand it of government officials. They adopt the “slippery slope” argument and maintain that the collection of any data now will eventually lead to the collection of all data in the future. It's the “camel's nose” argument.

I personally don't believe it makes sense. Absolutism may have some validity when discussing religious principles, however when relating to secular pursuits it assumes that people lack the ability to distinguish between principles and practice. It adopts a reductio ad absurdum approach to everything. And in instances like that involving the NSA it assumes that the government is evil. Eternal vigilance may be the price of freedom, but that vigilance may also be required by the government – not just the ACLU. It all depends on whom you consider the enemy.

That's enough for now. I'll finish it up next time. But, of course, I won't give my real name. I don't know who might be reading this.

Next episode: “Lean Back And Enjoy It” – If you can't lick 'em, join 'em.

I       We target “friends” and followers whom we invite to join our networks, and we, simultaneously join theirs.

ii       That makes them members of the one (hundredth of a) percent, though we don't think of them that way.

iii     We ignore the very real risk of hackers and identity thieves, though we may get additional programs to try to minimize the chances we're taking.

iv      See Numbers 14:1 and ff, and Joshua 2:1.

v       Or we believe it is.

vi      In keeping with the Patriot Act.

vii     As is the case with all such unevaluated and global solutions to situations we view as problems, a decision to destroy the records may result in the destruction, as well, of evidence in cases before the courts. For more on this subject see Wall Street Journal, February 2o, 2014: NSA Weighs Retaining Data for Suits. As the article suggests, this may result in the retention of more records than initially intended, but that would be the unintended consequence of such a move.

viii    And even though I know it's not true, I can live with the premise that most people are honest and law-abiding, and the information they obtain in conformity with legal and judicial limits will ultimately be used for my benefit.

ix      Not to mention Google and other search engines.

x      In fact they're tickled by the thought that their views are considered representative of a portion of the population, and that they can express their opinions and prejudices (my term, certainly not theirs) openly, and have it taken seriously.