Freedom & Privacy

My buddy Kevin was lamenting having to give his ID to get into LinuxWorld in San Francisco this week. Yes, the response from the LinuxWorld security was absurd (“it’s for security reasons”), but it’s interesting to note Kevin’s failure to grasp a key point: he didn’t have to go to LinuxWorld. Nobody was forcing him to reveal his identity – as long as LinuxWorld was up front with its requirements for entry (or offered a refund if Kevin refused to provide his ID) I’m not sure there’s anything wrong with what LinuxWorld did.

At the risk of infringing Bruce Schneier: privacy is a trade-off. It’s a free country – companies have a right to dictate the conditions under which they’re willing to sell to a consumer, and consumers have the right to decide whether or not they feel like accepting those terms. If you don’t like the terms, then there’s a simple solution: don’t buy the company’s product or service. It’s not like LinuxWorld security held Kevin down and went through his wallet – he could have just walked away.

It’s relatively easy to protect your privacy, as long as you’re willing to accept the inconvenience, cost, and lost opportunities. Don’t like companies tracking your purchasing habits? Fine – say good-bye to easy access to credit via credit cards, say good-bye to discount cards that “save” you money (the “save” is in quotes because the prices are usually inflated to encourage participation in discount schemes). Don’t want your movements to be traceable? Fine – get rid of your cell phone. Now, I’ll admit it’s effectively impossible to stand up to every company, all of the time, especially if you want to get anything done in life. But no one’s holding a gun to your head.

I think people overestimate the value of their freedom and privacy – they’ll scream bloody murder against laws that allow the government to collate data it already has on citizens, but sign away the same information in a heartbeat to save 10% on their groceries. It also appears people misunderstand the freedoms to which they think they’re entitled. Sure, you have a right to assemble – but only peacefully, without blocking free passage, and on public land. Sure, you have the right to free speech – but not to make threats, or spread libel. You can’t protest in the mall – it’s private property. And if you and a couple hundred friends are going to protest at the Democratic National Convention, don’t be surprised if the police put you in “free speech” cage. Those are the rules – any ideas of your own on the subject are merely creative works of fiction.

For those areas where you have a choice between preserving your privacy and buying into another product or service, it’s up to you to stick to your guns. If enough people had the courage to vote with their dollars, maybe companies would get the message. Until then, be prepared to present your “papers” along with your cash.

The Canadian Candidate

Somewhere between the ads for summer blockbuster movies like The Manchurian Candidate and debates on the legality of fictional presidential assassinations, I forgot something: my real reason for being in the States. Yes, I know, it’s shocking! I admit it – I have an ulterior motive, a hidden agenda, if you will, for my current habitation of the United States. I am a secret agent, a warrior on the front lines of Canada’s covert bid for world domination.

My status as an agent of the revolution had lain dormant in my brain recently, its priority lurking somewhere above “keep breathing, for God’s sake, just keep breathing” but marginally below “you really could go for a bacon sandwich right about now”. Then it hit me: mmm…I really could go for a bacon sandwich right about now. And as I perused the back of the package of Safeway Select Bacon while Ashley made breakfast, I was jarred from my status as a sleeper agent for the puck-slapping, syrup-sucking empire by the package’s undoubtedly malevolent hypnotic message:

Canadians have long been respected for their unique institutions – the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (they always get their man), hockey (most of the great players are from Canada), maple syrup (experts acknowledge it’s the best in the world) and bacon.

Mounties? Hockey? Syrup-flavoured bacon?

With a start, it all came flooding back. Of course! That’s what I was here to do – it was all so obvious! And yet I’d missed all the signs. Comrade Shatner had obviously been attempting to contact me, encoding his message in a rehash of a Pulp song so horrid, I’m amazed no one uncovered its true meaning. It must have been urgent – the last time such a dire message was sent, Shatner had to butcher a Beatles classic. It was not pretty (then again, it was nowhere near as weird as what Spock has been up to recently).

With my mental fog lifted, I reviewed the plans to convert Americans to our ways. Flooding the American market with cheap drugs to illustrate the value of socialized healthcare? Check. Brainwashing the masses with imported Canadian rock stars, actors, and subversive films, each conveying subliminal pro-Canada messages? Check, check and check.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes, that’s right – message received Comrade Shatner! I am proceeding to Stage Two: defeating the entire US military in a bloodless coup. Brendon to base, Brendon to base…prepare to deploy Anne Murray…