In my previous column, I looked at the amount of data mining that we’re subjected to online, and how less data collection and more consent to it could be beneficial to all. The general tone, though, was more or less, “What’s the point?” rather than any implications of malevolent intent.
Now, do I think data about me has been sold to those for whom it will have little to no use? Sure. Do I actually think unregulated, non-consensual data mining is largely innocuous? No, I do not.
Which is in good part why my brain has been chewing on points made in this CBC article on privacy for a few days.
This quote from Prof. Carissa Véliz, philosopher and University of Oxford associate professor at the Institute for Ethics in AI, is a good example of how out of control access to our data is:
"Say you go into a webpage. And while the webpage is loading, a company like Google might be sending your personal data to hundreds of other companies that want to show you ads. And they offer different amounts of money in order to show you an ad, if there's one company that is reasonably confident that you might be interested in their ads, they offer more to show you that ad, and then you get shown the ad.
"But by that time, hundreds of companies have your personal data. And this is truly sensitive stuff, like your political tendencies and sexual orientation. And many times, you haven't had even time to consent."
Véliz also points out that our data is in no way siloed:
“I argue privacy is mostly a collective issue. And whatever personal data you have, that contains personal data about other people such that you actually don't have the moral authority to give up that data because it contains data about others, and they haven't consented to it".
It goes far beyond just being able to un-tag yourself from an unflattering photo that a friend posted. And while many people are pretty careful about how much they reveal about their kids online, for example, we do tend to be less circumspect about other adults in our social spheres, especially if they have accounts on the same platforms.
But even beyond our explicit activities, so much is known about us, thanks to metadata – the data about data. It tells a story, and an un-encryptable one at that.
The comment that’s really stuck with me, though, is this one:
"Google gets to decide what counts as knowledge about you, they get to decide what personal data is shared with others. And in some cases, it might be inaccurate, in some cases, it might be very biased, or just a slice of a view."
As a bit of a history nerd, this is pretty chilling. Why? Well, think of some famous historical women, especially the more notorious ones, and how their stories go.
But are those really their stories?
One of my favourite podcast-listening experiences is when I get to hear smart people tell additional sides to supposedly well-known stories of famous people’s lives.
Was Lucrezia Borgia a depraved serial poisoner? Did Elizabeth Báthory really bathe in the blood of virgins? What was the full story of all the women downplayed or dismissed as “prostitutes,” from Mary Magdalene to Jack the Ripper’s “canonical five” victims?
We don’t have these women’s stories from their own mouths. We have what others decided “counts as knowledge.” Generally of the most sensational variety.
Imagine if your umpteen-year-old LiveJournal or Tumblr posts or Harry Potter fan fiction became the primary source material for those deciding on whether you got jobs. Or dates. Véliz’s quote mentions political tendencies and sexual orientation. There are plenty of places in the world where that information can get you killed if it’s known by the wrong people.
Would you trust any big company to protect you?
Brings to mind the Virginia Woolf line, “For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.” “Anonymous” may well have been one of the lucky ones...
So who gets to decide what counts as “knowledge” about us? It’s kind of a pointless question. Because right now, your own words, actions, and consent count for a vanishingly small fraction of what’s out there and what’s done with it. And nothing’s really ever erased from the internet.
Of course, thanks to technology, data actually goes even deeper. Not only can you use your Apple Watch to unlock your phone if you’re wearing a face mask, but it can also potentially detect a COVID infection up to a week earlier than testing can. How your heart beats is a data point now. But what does that mean for people with, say, anxiety disorders?
Smart watches and location services can determine your walking speed, which, as the CBC article notes, can be used to infer your life expectancy. But how accurately?
There was a period of time when I logged very few steps every day, and then a while when my walking speed was extremely slow. But no app or device would have known that this was because I had a broken ankle.
What if that data had been sent to third parties, and I received a notification that due to ongoing indications of a highly sedentary lifestyle, my benefits and health insurance were going to become a lot more expensive? Or would be cancelled? How do you refute evidence that came from your own body via your own devices?
The CBC article does note that our notions of personal space and privacy now are actually fairly modern ideas. But just because we existed a lot more “intimately” in the past doesn’t mean it’s comparable to a lack or loss or privacy today.
If you were being spied on 24/7 in the 16th century, it was probably because the king was suspicious of your loyalties. Not because everyone was selling information about your lifestyle.
But just as changes in building technology helped bring about our present-day ideas about privacy, perhaps we can flip it and what we want privacy to become will shape how technology is built going forward. After all, what are data-driven companies without our data? That’s powerful leverage, if we decide that it is.
M-Theory is an opinion column by Melanie Baker. Opinions expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of Communitech. Melle can be reached on Twitter at @melle or by email at me@melle.ca.
