As a continuation of my post on privacy, here's a narrative I found on PSFK from 2006. This "Postcard from the Future" is not only incredibly insightful for its time, but it looks at privacy from an unconventional angle. (A little lengthy, but worth reading. Or just skip down to my commentary.)
(Photos from Nice Orders and Chictopia.)
Red Coat, Black Coat
It's about that time again and Steve grabs his black coat to go and meet his one and only real friend, Jill. As he wraps it round him, he looks at the corners of his room, he looks out of his window, then slips out of his front door without making a sound.
Wrapped in his black coat, to anyone who spots him, Steve looks paranoid - trying to hide. In fact, Steve doesn't just look paranoid. He is paranoid. Paranoid every time he swipes his card to get into work, every time he has to carry a mobile phone, every time he chats on the web, every time he removes the last can of soda from his fridge. He's being watched. He knows it. Unknown organizations are watching his movements, brands are watching his consumption, details of every action Steve takes is being crunched by speedy computers that predict. Computers that predict Steve's shopping habits, health habits, voting habits, sexual habits. Steve tries to shield himself from what he calls an invasion of privacy. He uses software to mask his identity, he gives false names, he uses alternative underground brands.
Jill leaves her house in her red coat and as she strolls down the street, everyone seems to know her even if they haven't met her before.
Unlike paranoid Steve, Jill is considered socially evolved. It's not only her red coat that presents an image to the world of how she wants to be seen - Jill understands and manipulates how the world sees her, how companies see her, how her friends see her. Using technology that was developed maybe twenty years ago, Jill knows nearly everything everybody else knows about her. And in the same way she uses her bright red coat to make a statement about herself, she manages the data about herself to present the image she wants.
Information is like fashion - to be used, shown off and even bartered with. Her friend Steve hates people even knowing his name - but what does a name really say about Jill? Or the school she went to, the color of her skin or her date of birth. Jill is Jill. Or the Jill she wants you and the companies who want to sell to her think she is.
Of course people know about Jill through her blog where she talks about all the things she wants to talk about. And as she's chatted to other bloggers, she's found other likeminded souls. And that's how she's found new friends she's never met before - even been contacted by a company that may have a job for someone just like her.
At the bus station, Steven pays cash for his ticket in the machine. He doesn't see the idling bus change its number and chug forward to the stop to take him on his way.
Meanwhile at the subway, Jill dabs her thumb on the scanner and uses her frequent user reward to travel for free.
On the bus, Steve pulls the collars of his coat around his ears to try to stop the blare from the ads. Papered on the back of seats, the moving graphics try to sell him shampoo, cheap holidays and a magazine for retirees.
Jill's subway ride is silent. It's peaceful - with the ad panels temporarily turned down to let her enjoy the great tunes her music player has selected from a global jukebox. All this peace kindly brought to her by Target stores.
At the cafe, the coffee makers start her mocha just as she enters the store. Just in time - Jill's heavy with shopping bags as she just saw the greatest clothes to match her red coat in the window of her favorite fashion store down the way. And they fit perfectly.
By the time Steve makes it to the cafe, he's a mess - harassed by the world around him. The staff behind the counter guess the fake name he was going to give, but they wrongly guess the drink he was going to have. He'll have to wait until they make the drink again.
"Don't worry. Come over and meet my new friends," she says as she waves to a table of people.
"How do you get to meet new people like you?" Steve says.
"I haven't yet. I met them through the blog."
"But they look like they know you well..."
"It's the coat," Jill replies, pointing out their red coats too.
So, the story goes a bit overboard in hammering home the point that Steve is a paranoid loser and cool, confident Jill's life is all but perfect. But I can appreciate writer Guy Brighton's ability to present invasion of privacy in such a positive light - so contrary to the Big Brother scenarios we hear about in the media. It accepts our loss of privacy as an inevitable consequence of tech/digital progress, but puts the power to formulate the way companies and advertisers see us back in the consumer's hands. Which, as Brighton points out, is exactly what we already do in our choice of clothes - we dress the way we want other people to perceive us.
I'd wager that Jill's red coat experience is what companies like Google and Facebook imagine when they talk about building a better Internet experience for users. They want us to only see content and ads that are relevant to our interests. Whether or not this is "better", I can't help but be reminded of any time Facebook changes something - layout, formatting, organization, etc. There is always an uproar by users, an apprehension to deviate from the familiar. But inevitably, people acclimate and carry on with their social networking lives as usual. In that case, is there something to be said for Google or Facebook knowing best? And if these changes to privacy are incremental, will we even notice it when we are living the black coat, red coat reality? It's a fine line (and slippery slope) between accepting guidance and blind faith.
0 comments:
Post a Comment