Sweet Commotion
This Game Never Stays the Same...
Oh sweet Privacy, the story of 21st-century America.
Most Americans believe we have too little privacy. I believe we have too much.
Who doesn’t have an opinion on Privacy today? It’s the conversation anyone can have, and want, and dump into the ocean five days a week.
In this first of a two part-er, I’ll explain how most Americans feels about:
—And how it’s dismantling America’s mental health.
They say that Uncle Sam, and his more likely niece, Google, are peeking through the web to find you. They say that Alexa is listening to your every word, that iPhone is recording our every move, that lefties and righties at both extremes are combing our inboxes, that “big pharma” is on its way to mind control by way of vaccine, that credit-card companies are selling your tastes to the Geico lizard, and Disney, and Amazon.
The year 2020 was the most “online” in history, further building an economy so entrenched in new technologies that it seems to be catching up with science-fiction and dystopia.
And yet, the very people who rely on recent technologies most, we millennials/Gen-Z’ers, are doing a rain dance while our ankles are still knee deep. Crying, crying, crying:
In comes the rush of muddy river water.
My mug lands atop the granite countertop on a Wednesday morning. Foolishly, my stool and my eyes are pointed at the TV. From it, water pours, dirty as the Hudson. CNN, MSNBC, FOX, streaming through every TV and device with an internet connection, aimed to make you feel angry and scared and confused all at once.
Between The Social Dilemma, new books like The Age of Surveillance, and the general rise of Zoom culture, these last 14 months left me feeling boxed in. No dock ahead, only one behind. No oars to navigate. No escape from the river’s current.
The Privacy Dilemma
On the April morning
when the NYT carried news of Covid-19 break-through cases, my dog was stretched out on the couch, unconcerned with anything other than his paws.
The TV was on. Sitting alone in my childhood kitchen, I felt that my sanity was more at risk than my health. I loathe the exaggerated grimness of the News. I loathe its exaggeration and its grimness.
In the weeks prior, like half of America, I had been punching the “refresh” button over and over to get a vaccination appointment. That morning, I closed out the New York Times app and opened the one that looks like it has 200% of my daily sugar intake.
Here are the first two Ads Instagram showed.
A vaccination Ad from Google, targeted at what I had just been reading about
A plant-protein powder I had bought a few weeks prior
Why is that, while the privacy issues that are genuinely concerning today really have nothing to do with being harmed, or exposed in a public way,we feel snooped on when Instagram and Amazon “reads our minds?”
Because people you do not know, know you.
Because Privacy is a game, and it’s always changing
A few hours later,
while reading on the porch, I received a call from GoDaddy. Like a classic Millennial/Genz’er, I ignored it.
A few hours later, doing kettlebell swings in the driveway, they called back.
Ignore.
But they refused to be silenced.
I paused Spotify’s “Your Release Radar” playlist and pressed speakerphone. It was a nice young gentleman, with no technical training, he made particularly clear. The discomfort of making cold calls all day didn’t tie his tongue.
“My manager saw that you are the proprietor of seven domains, quite the catch, and are elligible for our, platinum-premium-gold-support-o-rama plan and we would love to save you those dollars to put back into your business, “Podsource LLC.” How are the sales coming along for your fascinating book, The Tree of Knowledge, by the way?”
Fine. If he was going to Google all about me and sign me up for a service that would fatten my wallet, I was ok with it.
What is Privacy today?
I sat in our kitchen, deep in the heart of suburbia, with half a football field’s worth of trees and birds and privacy surrounding me in every direction. All I could hear was birds, and my nephew giggling out in the yard, and river water.
But was I in private?
From the pre-21st century point of view, I had privacy: I was unwatched, unbothered by anyone. I was irrelevant to every News bureau on the planet. I was completely able, if I wanted, to ignore the News and read more Zen in the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance privately, au jus.
But from the popular American point of view, the one I disagree with, I was firmly exposed. Naked. Seen. But by who?
The First Amendment explains that
Protection of privacy is greatest when the invasion of privacy occurs at home or in other places with an expectation of privacy.
In 1621, an invasion of privacy went like this: thief hops picket fence, burglarizes chickens.
In 1821: surprised newspaper man catches farmer wearing the British flag stockings, exposes farmer in press.
In 2021: Amazon remembers customer, tries to sell extra protein powder.
Where was I? In my home.
But was I in “private?”
Most Americans say no. Instagram had, after all, thrown two advertisements that they knew would twist my heartstrings. Yes, I was alone in my kitchen, watching my device—and, so were they.
There is a reason for all this commotion. Not a good one, not an honorable one, not a sweet one, but a reason nevertheless.
It’s because….
find out why next time 👀
Sneak peek:
“What does it really mean to be alone? To me, it means sitting in your kitchen, listening to the birds, reading a book, with your cell phone, and all of its sweet commotion, out of sight. And what does that say?
—That the last public space we have exists inside your……
🙋🏼♂️ Appreciate the read!
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Take care and stay striding, friends
—Jeremy