The Transparent Society: Will Technology Force Us to Choose Between Privacy and Freedom?

by David Brin

  In July 1997, as a portent of bigger steps to come, the San Diego County Sheriff’s Department began equipping all deputies with pocket tape recorders, requiring them to turn on the devices during encounters with the public. Meanwhile, in some ethnic neighborhoods of New York, San Francisco, and Los Angeles, small bands of activists have set up ad hoc surveillance committees, using inexpensive video cameras to drive out local criminals—and to keep an eye on the police. Any modern citizen would have to be catatonic to miss this particular trend. Ever since the infamous Rodney King case, when out-of-control cops were videotaped beating a suspect after an adrenaline-drenched, high-speed chase, law enforcement personnel have grown ever more aware of this yin-yang situation: cameras can point both ways. Almost nightly, the public sees examples of transparency at work, either helping public officials track down perpetrators, or else catching misbehavior by the officials themselves. • Television shows such as America’s Most Wanted have surprised their severest critics. Despite a crude, sensationalist approach, their contribution to the apprehension of violent criminals is significant and growing.

  • Dashboard-mounted video cameras have become fixtures in many constabularies, capturing vivid images of traffic infractions and more serious offenses, as well as occasionally nailing the police officer for brutal or unprofessional behavior.

  • In 1996, a woman who was kidnapped in a carjacking secretly recorded the subsequent desperate conversation with her abductor, who then sadly became her killer. Her courage and presence of mind poignantly helped police to find the man responsible.

  This recalls the trend discussed in chapter 1, afoot in countless municipalities, to install cameras on a myriad street corners. It seems quite unstoppable, both in the democratic neo-West and in more authoritarian cultures. The fundamental question, who controls the cameras, will determine whether citizens of each town remain sovereign and free. Right now, the chaotic manner of implementation in the United States appears to be resulting in considerable transparency, with nearly as much light shining on public guardians as on those they are sworn to protect. But results have been patchy, and there will be many twists and turns before a new equilibrium is reached, some time in the next century.

  One writer, Sandy Sandfort, posed an intriguing possibility. What if it were possible to have a fair witness next to every police officer in the world? Perhaps by equipping a police helmet with camcorder, plus chips to track an officer’s location and even record his or her bodily movements. Would this result in improved safety and conviction rates, plus a heightened degree of police professionalism?

  At MIT, dynamic young technologists such as Steve Mann have spent several years developing the next step in electronic omni-accessibility. Wearables are tiny computer transceivers that combine the attributes of a pager, dictaphone, music player, camcorder, cell phone, laptop computer, and modem in a single portable unit, enabling a person to stay linked to the Internet even while strolling down a boulevard. Early versions combined camera and monitor into garish goggles (like those in a Buck Rogers movie) plus a bulky backpack stuffed with circuit boards. But each year the contraptions grow smaller, lighter, and more subtly incorporated into conventional clothing accessories. Recent models barely stand out from an ensemble of a baseball cap plus heavy sunglasses, except for a thin cable trailing down the back to a strangely bulging pair of pants. Mann’s prototype scans his surroundings, transmitting images in moments. He can download a map of his location, find information about the building he is looking at, or look up any topic from the vast archives of the World Wide Web.

  Generally speaking, this innovation seems like a logical compression of standard office tools into a nifty and portable device for the next century. But for our purposes, the fascinating aspect is what wearables imply about mutual transparency. Steve Mann says, “This apparatus suggests that shopkeepers and customers, police and ordinary citizens alike, must respect the possibility that they could be caught on camera.”

  It shouldn’t be forgotten that many in society worry about the police, often with cause. Race relations in several American cities have been harmed by rogue officers who use their badges to mask brutality. Nor is it unheard of for departmental intelligence units to employ unscrupulous tools—illegal wiretaps, coerced confessions, planted evidence, and untrustworthy informers—to target individuals or groups they don’t like, as when the FBI’s Cointelpro project forged letters and infiltrated civil rights and antiwar organizations in the 1960s and 1970s. Although any fair-minded observer would give our society credit for increasing the proportion of police officers who are skilled and impartial, this problem will not vanish by exhorting or wishing it away. As Gary T. Marx observes, such abuses are not confined solely to despotic societies; they can happen anywhere that you mix adrenaline, testosterone, firearms, and a lack of accountability.

  But now imagine the scene a few years in the future, say at 2 A.M. on Sunday morning, as a patrolling officer pulls over some young man for a traffic violation in one of our tension-filled neighborhoods. The cop worries about a potentially violent encounter with the burly teen. The youth has just been at a party, listening to friends gripe about how many of their peers were rousted by the heat this month. It is a tense situation, ripe for another urban tragedy.

  Picture the patrolman approaching the vehicle. A lens on his shoulder swivels, sending images straight to precinct HQ.

  “Would you please get out of the car, sir?” he asks.

  Standing, the youth reveals a similar device on his shoulder, winking away as the true-vu unit transmits this encounter for storage in his inexpensive home computer-VCR. Peering at the constable’s badge, he says—“Well, hello, Officer ... 56467. What seems to be the problem?”

  Will the result of such camera standoffs be increased rates of conviction for the guilty? A decline in false arrests of the innocent? A sudden upsurge in exaggerated (if sarcastic) courtesy on our city streets? Perhaps all of the above? Already, T-cell activity has combined with easy Web access to promote groups we mentioned earlier, in the section “Citizen Truth Squads” (after chapter 2); for example, Copswatch and the Police Complaint Center, eagerly collate reports and videotaped footage from all over the United States, sometimes setting up their own private sting operations to catch rogue cops in the act.

  These efforts are hardly unbiased. They don’t have to be, in order to take part in the push-pull of accountability, or to let anyone who wants to get involved help “watch the watchmen.”

  I can hardly begin to guess at all the consequences, which will surely surprise even far-seeing pundits. Nevertheless, it cannot be repeated too often that the cameras are coming. Urban face-offs between implacably wary lenses will become the rule, especially wherever there is tension over rights, or laws, or even touchy dignity. Real criminals may have more to worry about. The innocent may have less to fear. And our agents of authority will share the glare of accountability. A glare that will make the job better for any cop who acts like a skilled professional, but hellish for thugs in uniform.

  The scenario just described—a citizenry empowered by cameras—may lessen our concern about street criminals and uniformed bullies. But what about other worrisome centers of power and latent oppression? The corporate heads, media snoops, silk-collar thieves, and federal agents with their sweeping powers of court-sanctioned scrutiny and high-tech surveillance? If accountability tools are to help free citizens maintain morale and sense of control, we may have to keep an eye on all of them.

  One particular class of influential individuals tends not to see itself as a “worrisome power center.” I refer to a burgeoning technological elite, many of whom prefer to call themselves “brave rebels,” and would resent being ranked among the mighty. Yet in their proficiency, their disdain for rules, and their vast diversity of character and integrity, members of this new Brahmin caste merit being listed among the most vigorous and commanding authors of the society we shall wind up living in. This prospect may be hopeful, for
these people include some of the brightest products of our boisterous civilization; or it may be ominous, since hardly anybody, even inside government, is qualified to keep an eye on the “cyberaristocracy,” a new elite class whose members can prowl at will through the digital jungle, like predatory cats. Masters of either justice or deceit, depending almost purely on their own inclination or whim.

  I freely and openly confess that I am a cyberpunk, but there’s nothing new about it. Counter culture is a very old thing, as old as industrial society. I don’t control how others who call themselves cyberpunks behave. Every Bohemia has a criminal element. There are guys there who are not healthy.

  BRUCE STERLING

  HACKED TO BITS

  Hackers are individuals who use extraordinary skill (or dogged persistence) in manipulating software to infiltrate restricted computer systems. A sort of Robin Hood mythology has grown up around these nerdly outlaws, depicting them as libertarian heroes who pierce fences that others would throw up across the open data range, fighting for their belief that “information wants to be free.” Popular films such as War Games and The Net portray admirable loners who improve the world by overcoming and revealing either mistakes or the nefarious plans of dark organizations.

  A number of books have explored this netherworld at the edge of both technology and the law—for example, The Hacker Crackdown by Bruce Sterling, At Large by David Freedman and Charles Mann, and Masters of Deception by Michelle Slatalla and Josh Quittner. Some writers take pains to distinguish “cyberjocks” who cruise the dataways in a spirit of fun-loving curiosity, careful to avoid doing harm, from others who aim to steal, vandalize, or demonstrate a sense of power and superiority, labeling the latter “crackers.” John Markoff of The New York Times used the terms “Hacker A” and “Hacker B” to make a similar distinction.

  A clumsy but brutal example of the second type, showing that threats don’t always come from a techno-elite, was described by Dixie Baker, chief scientist with Science Applications International Corp. (SAIC). The thirteen-year-old daughter of a hospital clerk copied the computer records of several emergency room patients and then phoned those patients to inform them they were HIV-positive. Hearing this false news, one expectant mother terminated her pregnancy. In some cases, sophisticated data-protection systems may help prevent such tragedies. On the other hand, what precaution will reliably keep every bored teenager from poking at an open terminal, while waiting for a parent to get off work?

  A more sophisticated case of harm done via computer was the September 1996 assault on Panix (Public Access Network Corp.), the oldest company providing Internet access to New York City residents. It was driven near bankruptcy by a cracker who tied up the company’s lines for a week with dozens of false—and untraceable—information requests every second, revealing the power that can be wielded by unaccountable individuals, avenging some real or imagined affront. Nor is the phenomenon limited to any city or nation. A few years ago, Vladimir Levin, a biochemistry graduate in Russia’s St. Petersburg, allegedly stole $12 million from Citibank using his laptop. He was arrested, and now awaits extradition to the United States. “People wondered how he could do it without knowing English. It’s because once you are in, it was like using a calculator,” claimed one fellow hacker.

  What suggestions have been made for dealing with this problem? As usual, they divide into two major classes. Some would clamp down on information flows, adding one “firewall,” or keyword-protected layer, after another. This kind of solution may prove necessary in many cases, as a basic matter of improving technology, removing flaws, and correcting newly discovered failure modes. But as a general principle, such an approach is yet another manifestation of the venerable fallacy of security. Some of the best experts think complex expensive shields and firewalls simply create a false sense of complacency. “All the security in the world will not help if employees keep their passwords in an unlocked desk drawer,” remarked Tsutomu Shimomura, a systems expert with the San Diego Supercomputing Center.

  A different approach is to try working with the Internet’s inherent strengths. Instead of acting only to prevent intrusions with ever-greater layers of “armor,” some experts emphasize making sure that saboteurs and thieves are detected and caught. Such accountability can happen if measures are instituted to make sure that little happens in your portion of the Net without leaving a spoor. That way, if one operator proves incompetent at protecting a system, others might take over and pick up the trail. (Not everyone is a genius.)

  “There is no strength in security through obscurity,” said Michael Merrit, a department head with AT&T, addressing the need for cooperation. “If we don’t work together, Hacker B will inevitably break into our systems.”

  Working together sounds a lot like reciprocal transparency—keeping a protective eye not just on your own house but on your neighbor’s as well. If nothing can happen on the Net without leaving a trace, those who do harm can be held accountable. Sometimes by the authorities. But perhaps more often by some private individual with a sense of citizenship.

  In other words, by “Hacker A.”

  Just such a situation became national high drama when U.S. media were riveted by the hunt for Kevin Mitnick. Through the first half of 1994, word spread that a “dark side” hacker was prowling about, using clever methods of remote penetration to invade supposedly protected computer systems, stealing files (such as twenty thousand customer credit card numbers from the large Internet provider, Netcom), and filching private programs from the cream of the Internet community. Marshals and FBI agents spent fruitless months hunting Mitnick, who often left derisive notes, taking apparent joy in taunting his hapless opponents, an egotistical trait that eventually brought his downfall; for it led to his decision to take on Tsutomu Shimomura, already a legend at tracking down cyberspace predators. At that point, Mitnick met his match.

  “He wasn’t very hard to catch,” Shimomura later said, after directing a team of agents and technicians who pierced the fugitive’s cover using old-fashioned electronic engineering techniques that completely bypassed Mitnick’s complex veil of encrypted identities. It seemed that expertise in one area—software coding—was not enough to shelter the computer outlaw, who forgot that nearly every security system (including his own) comes equipped with side and back doors. In this case, he guarded the pulse coding of his cell phone but forgot that each unit is a radio transmitter, with its own quirks that can be traced.

  There are other examples. Clifford Stoll, author of Silicon Snake Oil, also wrote the fascinating Cuckoo’s Egg, about his own experience hunting down a rogue international hacker-spy in much the same way as Shimomura did. As Kevin Mitnick learned, no clever set of masks and false IDs will protect a bright fool who tries to take on the whole world, singlehanded. “Cancers” will almost inevitably attract the attention of healthy and creative social T-cells.

  Some may call this approach vigilantism, but it can be argued that society’s “immune system” will deal with such problems more flexibly than any rigid police organization, whose blunt methods and goliath scale can turn a cracker into a martyr or hero.

  At least, that is the theory. It is still much too early in the game to know how things will actually play out in the coming decades. Chapter 9 discusses some features that are needed to prevent transparency from devolving into a pattern of vicious witch-hunts.

  One can understand why hackers are often perceived as romantic figures. Right after Newsweek published a pictorial story on the Mitnick case, the charismatic Shimomura received so many electronic fan letters and marriage proposals that the University of California at San Diego’s e-mail system crashed for several days. Other computer wizards have become cult figures after rushing to defend their idea of Internet purity, for example, when several hacker “digilantes” sabotaged Cyber Promotions, Inc., one of the most hated e-mail advertisers, or “spammers.” These colorful fellows certainly deserve some of the extensive coverage they have been given.

>   Nevertheless, hackers will get short shrift in this particular book about the information age. True, their aim might superficially seem compatible with “transparency.” In fact, some of the best hackers are admirable figures who tread lightly as they poke away at sophisticated networks, uncovering flawed security systems, gleefully sharing their “trade secrets,” and sometimes exposing felonies. On the other hand it is delusive to give this subculture paramount credit for ushering in a dawn of accountability. Although some hackers are merry extroverts, relishing sunlight, others secretly access hidden knowledge in order to savor private victories over the establishment, reveling in a virtuosity that sets them apart from both those in authority and the common herd. It is a familiar syndrome that we discussed in chapter 5, where we showed that the ire expressed loudly and eloquently by angry young men can be almost orthogonal to how right or wrong they are.

  In other words, hackers are behaving exactly the way we—through shared media messages—trained them to do. As randomly programmed social T-cells, their talents and obsessions range from ridiculous to sublime. Some will make headlines through nasty acts of sabotage—until they are caught. Others will surely discover and expose horrid errors or villainous schemes, revealing the news in time to save us all.

  It seems a worthwhile bargain, justifying some tolerant forbearance by the rest of us.

  And that, despite their romantic aura, is all the attention we’ll pay hackers.

  THE END OF CIVILITY?

  Dear Fellow E-Mail User:

  This is to inform you that your mailbox has just been riffled by EmilyPost, an autonomous courtesy-worm program released by a group of netizens anonymously concerned about the decline of manners in cyberspace. In brief, dear neighbor, you are not a polite person. EmilyPost’s syntax analysis subroutines show that a high fraction of your net exchanges are heated, vituperative, even obscene. Of course you enjoy free speech. But excessive nastiness is ruining the Net for everybody. EmilyPost homes in on folks like you and begins by asking them to consider politeness.