New APPS: Art, Politics, Philosophy, Science

Cars are Privacy Disasters

This article from Gizmodo reports on research done over at Mozilla.  Newer cars – the ones that connect to the internet and have lots of cameras – are privacy disasters.  Here’s a paragraph to give you a sense of the epic scope of the disaster:

“The worst offender was Nissan, Mozilla said. The carmaker’s privacy policy suggests the manufacturer collects information including sexual activity, health diagnosis data, and genetic data, though there’s no details about how exactly that data is gathered. Nissan reserves the right to share and sell “preferences, characteristics, psychological trends, predispositions, behavior, attitudes, intelligence, abilities, and aptitudes” to data brokers, law enforcement, and other third parties.”

Nissan’s response tells you everything that’s wrong with current privacy legislation:

““When we do collect or share personal data, we comply with all applicable laws and provide the utmost transparency,” said Lloryn Love-Carter, a Nissan spokesperson. “Nissan’s Privacy Policy incorporates a broad definition of Personal Information and Sensitive Personal Information, as expressly listed in the growing patchwork of evolving state privacy laws, and is inclusive of types of data it may receive through incidental means.””

Let’s translate.  Nissan is probably compliant.  Also, privacy compliance is a joke.  Also, compliance apparently only requires that you receive NOTICE that they take your data AND CONSENT to that policy, probably merely by driving the vehicle.  Also, they probably reserve the right to change their privacy policies unilaterally, at will.  Also, they almost certainly do not let you opt-out of any of it while CONSENTING by driving the car.  It’s a very special kind of “contract” and “consent.”  Also, how do they know about your sex life?  Also, even if you have sex in the car, there is basically no answer to that question that is not beyond creepy!

As you may have guessed, NOTICE AND CONSENT is an utter sham and has been for a while.  The gizmodo article spells out some of the particular absurdities here – for example, you may not want to ride in one of these cars either, as passengers are “users” deemed to have CONSENTED to the privacy policy.  Your driver should probably provide you NOTICE beforehand!  “A number of car brands say it’s the driver’s responsibility to let passengers know about their car’s privacy policies—as if the privacy policies are comprehensible to drivers in the first place.”  No wonder folks are cynical and resigned about corporate privacy – they’re manipulated into it by corporations.  Also, they’re confused, frustrated and angry about the fact they don’t actually get to consent.

This is the best example I’ve seen of all that in a while, and a crystal-clear indicator of why we need not just new privacy legislation (we do!) but a new direction (more real regulation, less soft compliance and "notice and consent" fig-leaves).

PS – not picking only on Nissan:

“Other brands didn’t fare much better. Volkswagen, for example, collects your driving behaviors such as your seatbelt and braking habits and pairs that with details such as age and gender for targeted advertising. Kia’s privacy policy reserves the right to monitor your “sex life,” and Mercedes-Benz ships cars with TikTok pre-installed on the infotainment system, an app that has its own thicket of privacy problems.”

Clearview settles Facial Recognition Case

Luke Stark argues that Facial recognition should be treated as the “plutonium of AI” – something so dangerous that it’s use should be carefully controlled and limited.  If you follow  the news, you’ll know that we’re currently treating it as the carbon dioxide of AI, a byproduct of profit-making that doesn’t look too awful on its own until you realize its buildup could very well cause something catastrophic to happen.  Activists have worried about this pending catastrophe for a while, but lots of big money supports facial recognition, so they have thrown up a smokescreen of distractions – in one case, Facebook denied that its phototagging software in fact recognized faces (!) – in order to lull everyone into accepting it.

One of the worst offenders is a secretive company called Clearview, whose business model is to scrape the web of all the pictures it can find and then sell the technology to law enforcement.  The company even has an international presence: in one disturbing instance, the Washington Post documents the use of its technology by Ukrainians to identify dead Russian soldiers by way of their Instagram and other social media accounts, and then sometimes to contact their families.  More generally, the Post revealed internal documents showing that the company' database is nearing 100 billion images and that "almost everyone in the world will be identifiable."  They're going all-in; the Post reports that "the company wants to expand beyond scanning faces for the police, saying in the presentation [obtained by the WP] that it could monitor 'gig economy' workers and is researching a number of new technologies that could identify someone based on how they walk, detect their location from a photo or scan their fingerprints from afar."

Clearview is also one of a cohort of companies that has been sued for violating Illinois’ Biometric Information Privacy Act (BIPA).  BIPA, uniquely among American laws, requires opt-in assent for companies to use people’s biometric information (the Facebook case is central to my argument in this paper (preprint here); for some blog-level discussion see here and here).  Of course, BIPA is a state-level law, so its protections do not automatically extend to anyone who lives outside of Illinois.  That’s why yesterday’s news of a settlement with the ACLU is really good news.  The Guardian reports:

Facial recognition startup Clearview AI has agreed to restrict the use of its massive collection of face images to settle allegations that it collected people’s photos without their consent.  The company in a legal filing Monday agreed to permanently stop selling access to its face database to private businesses or individuals around the US, putting a limit on what it can do with its ever-growing trove of billions of images pulled from social media and elsewhere on the internet. The settlement, which must be approved by a federal judge in Chicago, will end a lawsuit brought by the American Civil Liberties Union and other groups in 2020 over alleged violations of an Illinois digital privacy law. Clearview is also agreeing to stop making its database available to Illinois state government and local police departments for five years. The New York-based company will continue offering its services to federal agencies, such as US Immigration and Customs Enforcement, and to other law enforcement agencies and government contractors outside Illinois.

Of course, the company denies the allegations in the lawsuit, and insists that it was just in the process of rolling out a “consent-based” product.  Ok, sure!  This is still a win for privacy and for one of the very few pieces of legislation in the U.S. that has any chance of limiting the use of biometric data.

IRS to start using Facial Recogntion Technology

If you want to use their website; WaPo has the story here.  But it's one of those public/private partnerships where data leaks and hacks and thefts happen.  To their credit, the Post went to Joy Buolamwini, whose work proved that facial recognition systems work best on white men and worst on Black women.  But even a perfectly functioning system is frightening.  First, it would unquestionably worsen the divide between those who have good Internet and those who don't, making convenient access to tax records contingent on having a sufficient income and computing skills.  Also, of course, facial recognition is bad - the potential for misuse is so great, and the record is so permanent, that Woody Hartzog and Evan Selinger argue it ought to be legally impossible to consent to. (for an overview of the debate, see Selinger and Leong here).

One of the biggest problems with data is that it gets leaked and hacked, of course, but another big problem is that companies sell it to pretty much whoever arrives with cash.  The company handling IRS facial recognition claims they'll turn it over to law enforcement, but the Post says there's no federal law proscribing what they can do with it.  And they're switching companies and authentication strategies because of a massive data breach at Equifax a few years ago. So its not like nobody has ever heard of a data breach.

Oh, and ID.me, the company getting the contract, totally wants to sell you stuff:

"But advertising is a key part of ID.me’s operation, too. People who sign up on ID.me’s website are asked if they want to subscribe to “offers and discounts” from the company’s online storefront, which links to special deals for veterans, students and first responders. Consumer marketing accounts for 10 percent of the company’s revenue."

What could possibly go wrong? Well, if you look up the ID.me privacy policy, you discover that most of the usual things can go wrong.  For example, they don't police 3rd party use of the data, which they encourage you to opt-in to:

"To avoid any confusion, Users should understand that, while we own and operate the Service and Website, we do not own or operate websites owned and operated by third parties who may avail themselves of the ID.me Service (collectively referred to hereafter as the “Third-Party Websites”). This Privacy Policy is intended to inform Users about our collection, use, storage, and disclosure, destruction and disposal of information that we collect or record in the course of providing the Website and the ID.me Service. Please note, we are not responsible for the privacy practices of Third-Party Websites and they are under no obligation to comply with this Privacy Policy. Before visiting Third-Party Websites, and before providing the User’s ID.me or any other information to any party that operates or advertises on Third-Party Websites, Users should review the privacy policy and practices of that website to determine how information collected from Users will be handled. Please further note, depending on a User’s particular interaction with us (e.g., Users who solely navigate the Website versus Users who create an account and use the ID.me Service at Third-Party Websites), different portions of this policy may apply to Users at different times."

Also, they reserve the right to change their privacy policy at any time, and it's your job to read it frequently to see:

"If we decide to change this Privacy Policy, we will post those changes to this page so that you are aware of what information we collect, how we use it, and under what circumstances, if any, we disclose it. We reserve the right to modify this Privacy Policy at any time, so please review it frequently. If we make material changes to this policy, we will notify you here, by email, or by means of notice on our home page."

That's item 1 on the policy.  Nothing else matters.  This is typical corporate privacy boilerplate that lets them do whatever they want with your facial biometric information.  Good job IRS!

 

 

No Standing for You! (part 1)

By Gordon Hull

In one of the Seinfeld episodes, the proprietor of a popular lunch stop would deny service to customers who offended his arbitrary sensibilities with a loud “No Soup for You!” This is basically the outcome of the Supreme Court’s June decision on standing, TransUnion v. Ramirez. “Standing” in this sense refers to access to the federal legal system; to simplify, to be able to sue somebody, you need to show that you’ve suffered a “concrete” injury. A number of recent standing cases have been about the outer limits of “concrete.” In principle, privacy harms can be concrete, but SCOTUS has been making standing harder, particularly in data breach cases.

And so it goes here. Per a 5-4 opinion authored by Justice Kavanaugh, you don’t have standing to sue a credit agency for flagging you as a terrorist, unless you can show that they also disseminated that information to somebody else. This opinion explicitly overrides a Congressional determination that you do, in fact, have standing in cases like that, arrogating to the Court the right to decide when Congress is and is not allowed to establish when statutory rights are actionable. This was too much for Justice Thomas, who, joined by the court’s liberals, points out in dissent that this both violates separation of powers in the name of preserving it, and turns historical standing doctrine on its head. As Dan Solove and Danielle Citron put it in a sharp critique that builds on Thomas’ dissent, TransUnion is “an activist decision that nullifies Congress’s power to protect consumers and that enables courts to rewrite privacy laws to alter how they are enforced.”

BIPA Continues to Gain Teeth: Data Retention Policy & Standing

By Gordon Hull

I’ve written about the importance of Illinois’ Biometric Information Privacy Act (BIPA) before (see also here). Briefly, BIPA is the most important and powerful of the (relatively few) state laws designed to protect biometric privacy. The statute establishes a notice-and-consent regime (sigh. better than nothing, though N&C doesn’t work well, and is disturbing as a norm) for private parties that collect biometric information like face scans, establishes the need for data retention policies, establishes a private right of action (individuals can sue; other states make you go through the state attorney general) and establishes a statutory harm – as underlined by the Illinois Supreme Court, violating the statute is enough to collect damages.

Companies like Facebook have been fighting BIPA hard, because it’s bad for their business model, and some of the main litigation has been around Facebook’s phototagging feature. A lot of the issue has been about standing – whether aggrieved parties have the right to sue. Standing sounds simple: in order to have standing under Article 3 of the Constitution, three conditions need to be met. Going through them, however, will indicate why this is harder than it looks.

• First, the plaintiff must have suffered an “injury in fact,” an invasion of a legally protected interest which is (a) concrete and particularized, and (b) actual or imminent, not “conjectural” or “hypothetical.”
• Second, there must be a causal connection between the injury and the conduct complained of, the injury has to be fairly traceable to the challenged action of the defendant, and not the result of the independent action of some third party not before the court.
• Third, it must be "likely," as opposed to merely "speculative," that the injury will be "redressed by a favorable decision."

ToS and the Subject Position of Website Users

By Gordon Hull

As one knows, online privacy policies (and access to the Internet in general) are generally conditioned on a user’s acceptance of some sort of boilerplate terms of service.  Lots of people (myself included) have complained about this state of affairs as attempting to get users to consent to all sorts of practices by way of reams of unintelligible legalese.  In addition to allowing unlimited data collections, these contracts often include mandatory arbitration provisions, which means that they compel users to take disputes with the sites to arbitrators selected by the company, rather than taking them to courts.

In other words, the idea is that using the product or service constitutes consent to a series of wildly one-sided terms that the user probably could not understand if she tried.  There is certainly no chance of negotiation or bargaining involved.  As Julie Cohen put it, “the conception of consent emerging from that default condition is unprecedented in the law of contracts or any other body of law,” and more closely resembles older status contracts than the contracts of modern liberalism (58-9).  The result is “a form of Kabuki theater that distracts both users and regulators from what is really going on” (59).

In a recent paper, Woodrow Hartzog and Neil Richards detail this state of affairs in terms of contract theory and its imaginary of two autonomous individuals negotiating and agreeing to terms.  They argue that:

“Consent is most valid when we are asked to choose infrequently, when the potential harms that result from the consent are easy to imagine, and when we have the correct incentives to consent consciously and seriously. The further we fall from this gold standard, the more a particular consent is pathological and thus suspect” (1465).

The design of notice-and-consent privacy regimes is deeply pathological from this point of view.  Consent is often unwitting – consumers don’t understand either the terms or the technology behind them.  They also don’t understand the consequences and risks (which is entirely expected, given that they are futural and difficult to visualize).   If not fully coerced, consent can be induced by both the fact that it is difficult now not to use the internet (so no opt-out) and both ISPs and networks are de facto monopolies (so no market competition).  Various website design techniques make opting out difficult: pop-ups that cover up the screen, browser tabs with no ‘back’ button, and various techniques of shaming (“Yes! I want this product.  No, I choose to die a lonely death”).  And of course there is the question of children: COPPA only protects children up to age 13, even though contractual consent typically starts at age 18.  And kids can easily get around age checks anyway.

If we step back from the normative arguments about why this situation is abusive or otherwise bad, I think there’s an interesting point to be made about subjectivity here.  Basically, the sites are trying to construct a legally cognizable subject position that users then occupy.  Both steps are important.  The contractual language presented in the ToS defines the subject position, and it seems to me that it’s important to distinguish this subject position from a few alternatives. First, this is not the traditional subject of law.  That position is foreclosed by the lack of availability of the courts.  Disputes are to be settled by a privatized procedure.  Second, it’s not the subject of administrative procedure either, such as recently upheld by SCOTUS in patent arbitration.  That procedure also allows an appeal to courts.  Third, it’s not the position of the disciplinary (?) subject that consumes mass media: there is no pretext to contract when you open a book, as Hartzog notes in an earlier paper on these contracts.  In short, I think this is a quite specific subject position constructed by the technology companies for their own advantage.

There is also a split between the structural subject position and the phenomenological experience of users.  Users are encouraged by the sites in question to view themselves as free and emancipated by the technology, and as empowered by its affordances.  They are (for obvious reasons) not encouraged to view themselves as signing away their rights.

The gap between user experience and described subject position leads to the second question: whether users can be said to occupy this subject position, i.e., whether these contracts are enforceable.  Can technology companies rely on the coercive power of the state to define the subjectivity of users on their terms?

It is the position of the technology companies that use of their products constitutes acceptance of the terms of service; sometimes this requires clicking a button.  Courts have been generally unwilling to say that the contracts are objectively unenforceable as unconscionable or otherwise inconsentable (though Hartzog and Evan Selinger more recently make the case that facial recognition ought to be the sort of thing that someone cannot consent to – the harms are potentially too great and difficult to understand).  This means that the question legally has come down to whether the notice and consent procedures are adequate.  Hartzog’s earlier paper suggested that, as of roughly 2010, courts had been most likely to refuse to enforce ToS on casual users – those who just read a website but do not otherwise particularly interact with it.  Still, the law was inconsistent and this emerging de facto carve-out was far from either settled or explicit.

Here, a recent survey of the case law by Nancy Kim is encouraging.  She reports that the case law is still very inconsistent, and users often lose.  But: there’s a movement toward demanding more of websites:

“The standards of “notice” and “manifestation of assent” remain the same, but how those standards are applied varies depending upon the facts of the case and the jurisdiction. Berkson v. Gogo LLC and Nguyen v. Barnes & Noble, Inc. have been particularly influential in helping inform the application of the standards. Reflecting the influence of these two cases, courts have started to assess the reasonableness of notice by evaluating the website experience from the perspective of the offeree and by considering how the drafter chose to present terms. Thus, instead of asking why the offeree failed to read visible terms, more and more courts are asking why the offeror failed to draft terms in a more conspicuous manner. As the court in Rushing v. Viacom Inc. emphasized, the burden is on website owners to “put users on notice of the terms to which they wish to bind consumers.” Accordingly, courts are increasingly asking for two types of evidence from drafters. The first is in the form of screenshots or webflows that demonstrate how the terms were presented to plaintiffs. The second is in the form of the drafter’s internal records that document that the plaintiff actually accessed the website at the time the notice was allegedly presented.” (1693)

There’s a lot to be done here, of course, but it’s nice to see some legal pushback, and to see how courts understand evidence and other traditional legal concepts in this context.  Kim cites several cases where courts determined that reasonably prudent users would not realize that they were entering into a contractual relation – for example, there was a hyperlinked “terms of service” but it was buried several pages into a website and well below the prominent “click here for the next step of your purchase.”  Nearly all of the cases Kim cites are about the enforceability of mandatory arbitration clauses, which suggests both the specificity of the subject position the websites are constructing, and the extent to which its enforceability is an artifact of their power over not just users but the state.

Otto’s Phototagging

By Gordon Hull

Last time, I suggested that a recent paper by Mala Chatterjee and Jeanne Fromer is very helpful in disentangling what is at stake in Facebook’s critique of Illinois’ Biometric Information Privacy Act (BIPA). Recall that BIPA requires consent before collecting biometric identifiers, and a group of folks sued FB over phototagging. Among FB’s defenses is the claim that its software doesn’t depend on human facial features; rather it “learns for itself what distinguishes different faces and then improves itself based on its successes and failures, using unknown criteria that have yielded successful outputs in the past.” (In re Facebook Biometric Info. Privacy Litig., 2018 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 810448, p. 8). Chatterjee and Fromer apply the phenomenal/function distinction from philosophy of mind to the question of how mental state requirements in law apply to AI, with an extended case study of liability for copyright infringement. Basically, there’s an ambiguity buried in the mental state requirements, and we need to decide – probably on a case-by-case basis – whether the law’s objective is better served by a phenomenal or functional account of the mental state in question.

In applying the distinction, I suggested that we assume for the sake of argument that the software does not do the same thing that an embodied human being does when they identify a face. In other words, I was suggested that we accept arguendo that the software in question does not achieve the same phenomenal state as one of us does when we recognize a face. I also said I think that assumption, while clearly correct in a literal sense, may not be able to do as much work as it needs to. Here’s why.

It should be fairly clear that the experience of recognizing Pierre in a café is not identical between different people, or probably even the same person in different times. For that to be true, the molecular structure and electrical activity in their respective brains would have to be identical, which isn’t going to be the case. It’s also not clear that we don’t “learn[] for [ourselves] what distinguishes different faces and then improve[] [ourselves] based on [our] successes and failures, using unknown criteria that have yielded successful outputs in the past,” just like FB. After all, if you ask me why I recognize somebody, I will produce some criteria – but if it’s somebody I know, it’s not like I consciously apply that criteria as a rule. Neither the FB system nor I are using the old-fashioned “AI” of an ELIZA program. It would therefore at least require some argument to say that I recognize the face by means of that criteria, rather than offering it as a post facto explanation. Indeed, recognition does not appear to be a “conscious” process in the relevant sense at all. So that can’t be the issue.

Facebook, Biometric Privacy and the Philosophy of Mind

By Gordon Hull

Facial recognition technology is an upcoming privacy mess.  An early example of why is photo-tagging on Facebook.  The privacy problem was noted a while ago by Woody Hartzog and Frederic Stutzman: “once a photo is tagged with an identifier, such as a name or link to a profile, it becomes searchable …making information visible to search significantly erodes the protection of obscurity, and, consequently, threatens a user’s privacy” (47; on obscurity, recall here and here).  A while ago, I noted litigation surrounding Illinois’ Biometric Information Privacy Act (BIPA).  BIPA basically establishes notice and consent rules for companies that collect and use biometric information.  For example, it stipulates that “no private entity may collect, capture, purchase, receive through trade, or otherwise obtain a person's or a customer's biometric identifier or biometric information, unless it first” informs the person in question of what’s happening and what the entity is doing with the data, and then obtains a written release (740 ILCS 14/15(b)).  As I suggested, this regime is subject to the obvious problems with notice and consent privacy, but companies like Facebook are resisting providing even that de minimis protection for their customers.  In a landmark ruling last year, the Illinois Supreme Court upheld the law’s statutory damages provision.

More generally and as parallel federal litigation underscores, BIPA presents a significant threat to FB.  The issue in question is precisely photo-tagging.  As the 9^th Circuit described the process:

“In 2010, Facebook launched a feature called Tag Suggestions. If Tag Suggestions is enabled, Facebook may use facial-recognition technology to analyze whether the user’s Facebook friends are in photos uploaded by that user. When a photo is uploaded, the technology scans the photo and detects whether it contains images of faces. If so, the technology extracts the various geometric data points that make a face unique, such as the distance between the eyes, nose, and ears, to create a face signature or map. The technology then compares the face signature to faces in Facebook’s database of user face templates (i.e., face signatures that have already been matched to the user’s profiles). If there is a match between the face signature and the face template, Facebook may suggest tagging the person in the photo” (Patel v. Facebook, 6).

A group of representative Illinois FB users sued the company and filed for class certification,  arguing that “Facebook violated sections 15(a) and 15(b) of BIPA by collecting, using, and storing biometric identifiers (a “scan” of “face geometry,” id. 14/10) from their photos without obtaining a written release and without establishing a compliant retention schedule” (Patel v. FB, 7).

The Surveillance Gap and Neoliberal Necropolitics

By Gordon Hull

Consider the following, too brief summary: following Foucault, one can say that biopolitics is about optimizing populations, or something to that effect.  This involves a lot of work on the part of the administrative state, which sets itself up to provide services, everything from sewers and other infrastructure to social safety nets.  Different places do this differently, but the goal is to provide for the general welfare.  At the same time, as Foucault noted from the get-go (see the last lecture in Society must be Defended), the biopolitical “make live or allow to die” generated a correlative “if you want to live, they must die” (SMD 255).  Those Others were excluded from the “population” that the state tried to optimize and so were either allowed to die, or (in cases such as the Nazis) actively killed, or (in the case of American Jim Crow) actively suppressed and marginalized and often killed.  These various forms of necropolitics are intimately related as both a matter of historical fact (the Nazis thought Jim Crow an excellent example of race management) and conceptual structure under the rubric of something like state racism.  So too, the biopolitics of optimization is historically tied to the necropolitics of state racism, as scholars like Dell McWhorter make clear in the American case, or Agamben does in the case of the German Versuchpersonen.

But biopolitics has more than one variant, or at least so I’ve tried to argue.  I think it’s useful to view biopolitics in an earlier phase – what I call “public biopolitics” and a more recent neoliberal version.  The two can be distinguished in part by how they conceptualize the members of the population they are trying to benefit, and how they think they might do so.  For example, intellectual property on the public model is about public welfare and the benefits to everyone of encouraging inventive activity.  On the neoliberal version, the emphasis is much more on individual creators and markets. But the neoliberal version very much embeds a view of public welfare – a society of individual entrepreneurs and consumers, whose well-being is measured by various indicia of consumer welfare.

But what about the necropolitics of neoliberal biopolitics?  One obvious avenue to pursue is that those who are excluded from markets are allowed to die.  The rhetoric of consumer choice is often then utilized to suggest that they deserve their fate because of a failure to opt-in.  Whatever the merits of that avenue, it seems clear enough that more can be said.  One component of the U.S. piece is going to be data and surveillance.  Biopolitics itself arose in the context of data governance mechanisms like the census, and the importance of data to contemporary capitalism is large and growing.  One way the surveillance state implements necropolitics is by what Margaret Hu calls “big data blacklisting:” classifying certain kinds of people as ineligible for many of the things to which other members of the population are entitled (such as employment or the ability to board a commercial aircraft), or rendering them subject to ceremony-free death by drone strike.

In a fascinating recent paper, Michelle Gilman and Rebecca Green offer some important clues to another aspect of the story.  Most of the literature about data privacy focuses on what happens when people don’t have enough privacy.  Gilman and Green focus on the inverse problem: what happens when people have too much privacy, i.e., when they become invisible in a society predicated on visibility?  Working primarily with examples of the undocumented, the homeless, day laborers and those with felony convictions, Gilman and Green tell the story of “populations that remain outside seemingly omnipresent surveillance systems” (257), those who live in the “surveillance gap.”  If too much surveillance is bad, so is too little:

Review Essay of Privacy Books

In the shameless self-promotion dept., I have a new paper out - actually a review essay in Ethics & International Affairs (SSRN link here) of two recent books on privacy, Ari Ezra Waldman's Privacy as Trust and Jennifer Rothman's Right of Publicity.  Both books are well-worth the read!  The essay also pushes my thesis about the difficulties of assessing privacy on purely economic grounds.  Here's the abstract:

Most current work on privacy understands it according to an economic model: individuals trade personal information for access to desired services and websites. This sounds good in theory. In practice, it has meant that online access to almost anything requires handing over vast amounts of personal information to the service provider with little control over what happens to it next. The two books considered in this essay both work against that economic model. In Privacy as Trust, Ari Ezra Waldman argues for a new model of privacy that starts not with putatively autonomous individuals but with an awareness that managing information flows is part of how people create and navigate social boundaries with one another. Jennifer Rothman’s Right of Publicity confronts the explosive growth of publicity rights — the rights of individuals to control and profit from commercial use of their name and public image — and, in so doing, she exposes the poverty of treating information disclosure merely as a matter of economic calculation. Both books emphasize practical and doctrinal solutions to the problems they identify. In this essay, I take a step back and draw out the extent to which they converge on a fundamentally important point: the blunt application of market logic with its tools of property and contracts fails to protect the interests that lead us to turn to privacy in the first place; the tendency to economize privacy is a significant part of why we inadequately protect it.

The Normative Valences of Obscurity (part 2)

By Gordon Hull

Last time, I offered some thoughts on Woody Hartzog’s (and co-authors’) development of “obscurity” as a partial replacement for privacy.  On Hartzog’s account, privacy is subject to a number of problems, not least of which is that we tend to think in terms of an unsustainable binary: things are either “private” or “public,” which means that any information you disclose even once is permanently out there.  This doesn’t track how people live their lives: we share information all the time, for all kinds of reasons; however, we reasonably expect it to remain within certain social contexts, and we expect that it will take effort for someone to wrest it our of those contexts.  The latter of these is more or less what “obscurity” indicates.  There is a lot of information out there, but many of those who nominally have access to it don’t actually know enough to do anything with it.  Hartzog analogizes the situation to talking in a restaurant.  People at adjacent tables can likely hear the words you say, but they lack the context for them to be meaningful.  In that sense, communication, even in public, often remains obscure.  This is true both online and off; one of the reasons we need to worry about privacy now is that various technologies make it a lot easier to fill in that context, especially online.  So we don’t become less or more private online, but we do become less obscure.

I concluded by promising a point about latent ambiguity in this context.  Recall that in Lessig’s Code, he suggests that a number of important legal concepts – “privacy” and “fair use” – embed an ambiguity in their meaning.  That is, we don’t know quite what they mean because the people who wrote them into law had never thought through situations analogous to a current one.  For fair use in copyright, for example, it used to be difficult to stop people from making personal copies of works or to meter how many times they used them. So those uses became “fair” and defensible.  If you were accused of violating copyright, you could offer fair use as a defense, and norms arose against pursuing those violations.  Now that technological developments make it easy to stop copying and meter use, we have to confront the question of whether we want fair use for normative reasons, or if we simply had it because of those disappearing inefficiencies. Should fair use protect only use that is inefficient to meter?  There is a clear analogy to obscurity: do we have obscurity because it was difficult to know enough metadata to figure out what the neighbors were gossiping about over the fence, or because we think it’s a bad idea to pry?

The Normative Valences of Obscurity (Part 1)

By Gordon Hull

In a series of articles (and a NYT op-ed; my $.02 on that is here), Woddy Hartzog and several co-authors have been developing the concept of “obscurity” as a partial replacement for “privacy.”  The gist of the argument, as explained by Hartzog and Evan Selinger in a recent anthology piece (“Obscurity and Privacy” (=OP, pagination to the ssrn version)), is that “obscurity is the idea that information is safe - at least to some degree - when it is hard to obtain or understand” (OP 2).  This is because “we should not underestimate how much of a deterrent effort can be” (OP 2), and information that is hard to understand imposes similar costs in terms of effort.  They argue that obscurity functions better as a concept than privacy, in part because it avoids the binarism associated with the public/private dichotomy:

“Because activities that promote obscurity can limit who monitors our disclosures without being subject to explicit promises of confidentiality, the tendency to classify information in binary terms as either ‘public’ or ‘private’ is inadequate. It lacks the nuance needed to describe a range of empirically observable communicative practices that exist along a continuum” (OP 4)

The public/private dichotomy has been the object of sustained criticism, in part because it does not track how people live their lives.  For example, U.S. privacy law tends to regard information that an individual has voluntarily disclosed once as no longer private, as if the context of disclosure doesn’t matter at all.  The obscurity argument is designed to start with this basic thought: we share information all the time, and do so with the expectation that others will manage it appropriately.  This is Helen Nissenbaum’s point about the “contextual integrity” of information; it is also how Ari Waldman starts with his recent reformulation of privacy as trust.  The general stability of these information and contextual flows is behind Lior Strahilevitz’s “social networks” account of privacy and its violation, as well as Dan Solove’s account of how suddenly viral spreads of information online occasions the need to rethink reputation.

Lessons from Agre on Privacy as Capture (Part 2): Can Foucault Get Past Panopticism?

By Gordon Hull

A couple of weeks ago, I noted my newly discovered appreciation for Philip Agre’s “Surveillance and Capture” and outlined why I think his development of capture (and retreat from surveillance) is particularly applicable to the privacy concerns surrounding big data.  Here, I’d like to suggest that Agre’s distinction is also helpful in understanding a frequently remarked limitation in Foucault.  The limitation is this: a Foucauldian model of disciplinary power treats Bentham’s panopticon as its ideal image.  That image, and the model it subtends, has come under sustained critique over the last twenty years in a scholarship inspired by Deleuze.  Let me start with a review before getting to what capture can tell us about Foucault and surveillance.

Philip Agre on Privacy and Big Data (part 1)

By Gordon Hull

A current paper by Mireille Hildebrandt sent me to a paper from 1994 that I’m embarrassed to say I hadn’t read before: Philip Agre’s “Surveillance and Capture.”  Agre’s paper has been cited over 300 times, but it’s missing in a lot of the privacy literature I know.  After reading it, I’ve decided that’s a mistake, and it’s time to make amends.  I’ll begin by saying why I think Hildebrandt is exactly right to bring the paper up in a context of big data.

Agre starts with quotidian examples of tracking, things like employee ID cards that let systems know where they are, to UPS package tracking.  The core argument of Agre’s paper is that there’s two conceptual models of privacy that need to be distinguished in making sense of phenomena like these: one, the one that we all talk about all the time, is surveillance.  The surveillance model grew out of experience with state bureaucracies, particularly in the Soviet bloc, and features visual metaphors (typically Orwell and Bentham); assumes that the watching is nondisruptive and secret; involves territorial metaphors like invasion of space, which tend to then lead to a dichotomy between coercion and consent; involves centralized orchestration; and is identified with the state.  This model, though ubiquitous, isn’t the only or even the best one.  Agre spends most of his time developing the alternative model, though he notes that “when applied as the sole framework of computing and privacy, the surveillance model can lead to oversimplified analysis” and suggests that it lends itself to caricature and easy dismissals such that “genuinely worrisome developments can be seen as ‘not so bad’ simply for lacking the overt horrors of Orwell’s dystopia” (116).   It’s not hard to say that Agre got this one right: whether it’s the well-trodden problems with notice-and-consent or the stubborn persistence of the “I’ve got nothing to hide” deflection, the surveillance model isn’t adequate to privacy worries now.

The second model, which Agre ties to computer science and information systems management, is built around the idea of “capture.”  The capture model also has five characteristics, which Agre develops as a contrast with surveillance.  Capture: uses linguistic metaphors for human activities; assumes that linguistic parsing of activities is active intervention; defaults to structural metaphors; is decentralized; and is driven by to reconstruct human activity “through [its] assimilation to a transcendent (‘virtual’) order of mathematical formalism” (107).  The core concept here is grammar: the basic mechanism of capture is to pick a set of atomic elements (people, UPS packages) and to then develop a grammar that describes their possible movements or changes.  This model is then imposed – sometimes coercively – on the activities it purports to describe, mechanisms are used to then track and measure the activity according to the grammar; the system can then be further calibrated.

Privacy, Obscurity and Keeping Economics Where it Belongs

By Gordon Hull

In the New York Times last week, Woodrow Hartzog and Evan Selinger underscore the importance of obscurity to privacy.  They begin with an easy example: most of us do not remember the faces or names of those who stood in line with us the last time we purchased medicine at the drug store.  Presumably, they don’t remember our faces either.  Yet purchasing the drugs was done in full visibility (and invariably recorded on surveillance devices).  Hartzog and Selinger note:

“Obscurity bridges this privacy gap with the idea that the parts of our lives that are hard or unlikely to be found or understood are relatively safe. It is a combination of the privacy you have in public and the privacy you have in groups. Obscurity is a barrier that can shield you from government, corporate and social snoops. And until lawmakers, corporate leaders and citizens embrace obscurity and move to protect it, your freedom and opportunities to flourish will be in jeopardy.”

They then adduce several advantages to obscurity: it gives us breathing room to live without fear of intrusion by advertising and the like; it makes intimate relations possible by allowing us to choose with whom to share information; it gives us the space to grow as individuals without surveillance; it protects us from pressures to be conventional; and it fosters civic participation by removing the fear of being on government watch lists.

The attentive reader will notice – and I assume this Hartzog and Selinger’s point – that obscurity is shown to do a lot of the work that privacy is often said to do.  For example, Julie Cohen argued in an early copyright paper that the “right to read anonymously” is important to civil society and democratic participation because it enables the space to explore different opinions and views without fear of governmental repression.  More generally, she has argued more recently that privacy is necessary as an aspect of subjectivity; as she puts it “privacy is shorthand for breathing room to engage in the processes of boundary management that enable and constitute self-development” (1907).  Accordingly:

“But here we must come back to privacy, for the development of critical subjectivity is a realistic goal only to the extent that privacy comes into play. Subjectivity is a function of the interplay between emergent selfhood and social shaping; privacy, which inheres in the interstices of social shaping, is what permits that interplay to occur. Privacy is not a fixed condition that can be distilled to an essential core …. It enables situated subjects to navigate within preexisting cultural and social matrices, creating spaces for the play and the work of self-making.” (1911)

If this is what privacy is for, then why might obscurity help attain that?  A central problem is that privacy is poorly understood by policymakers, being generally defined in terms of whether someone has chosen to reveal information publicly.  This construction of privacy as an individual right is unfortunate at best.  Companies want our data, and so privacy doctrine construes data as something of value that we then trade for someething else we want – say access to a web service.  The model is congruent with market norms that push toward ever more disclosure and tends to lead to a market failure to meet consumer preferences. Consumers are completely unable to effectuate their preferences, and the model subtly teaches us that this is the right way to view privacy.

What I want to emphasize here is a point behind this: the construal of privacy as a market transaction pushes toward contracts as a method of enforcement because, as we have known since Hobbes, enforceable contracts are how you overcome the irrationality of trusting those with whom you may not have future interactions.*  Contracts successfully protect rights when the terms are fully disclosed and freely agreed to, and when there is recourse to the state for enforcement when private parties violate those terms.  Viewing privacy through the lens of contract inevitably pushes toward openness: as Judge Posner concluded in an influential economically-based reading, a claim to privacy is likely an effort to withhold information that would make a transaction more efficient.

Biometeric Chicanery

Let’s say the state passes a law that says that restaurants may not put worms in hamburgers, and that customers can sue those that do. Your kids eat at the local Annelids franchise on the way home from school, and you later discover that the burgers contain worms. You sue the restaurant, and in response, it says that since your kids didn’t get sick from the experience, it only “technically” violated the law, and you therefore have no basis to either collect damages or force them to stop. That is, on the face of it, a pretty stupid construction of the law, since it would make it totally unenforceable. It is also, more or less, how Facebook, Google, and Six Flags Great America think you should read the Illinois Biometric Privacy Information Act (BIPA).

In a unanimous ruling yesterday, the Illinois Supreme Court said otherwise. The Act regulates companies that collect biometric information like fingerprints and face scans. In the case at hand, the amusement park used thumbprints to identify customers who had bought a season pass, in order to admit them quickly and to stop people from sharing passes (you know the second reason is the real one; since when do amusement parks worry about long lines?). If the company wants to collect such information, it has to inform customers what they’re doing in writing, and get affirmative consent. In particular, the company must “inform[] the subject or the subject’s legally authorized representative in writing of the specific purpose and length of term for which a biometric identifier or biometric information is being collected, stored, and used” (cited in para 20).

This is notice and consent privacy as it should be! There’s a lot of reasons why I don’t think notice and consent privacy actually works – I called it a “successful failure” because the main effect is to teach us that privacy is something we should sell off but without actually protecting privacy. Nobody knows what they’re consenting to, the privacy notices are impossible and long and incomprehensible, and so on. Six Flags et al don’t even get that far: they argue that they don’t actually have to follow the law. So for them, privacy should just be a failure.

The Internet of Prison People

By Gordon Hull

In what seems like a distant, more innocent time in surveillance (viz. 2003), Andy Clark was able  to use as an example in his Natural Born Cyborgs an implanted tracking chip for pets.  Does your cat tend to wander off?  Now you can know where Whiskers is at all times! (no doubt taking a nap in the sun, and not earning his keep catching mice)  Clark’s point was to argue that we are all tool-using creatures by nature, to the point that when we speak of our “minds,” that term really needs to include at least some of the tools we use.  So the extended mind hypothesis was the point of the book, and pet-tracking an example, but Clark’s optimism was evidenced in the way that he dumped concerns like privacy together into a final chapter.  It's that ability to put the worries in the last chapter that seems dated now.

Of course, these days RFID chips are everywhere – now, apparently, in the bodies of employees (h/t dmf).  The story needs to be read, but basically an entrepreneur named Tim Westby started out by marketing RFID vending machines to prisons because prison administrators liked convenience in their contracts and because the machines could operate with a high markup (what are the inmates going to do, choose a different supplier of soda?).  Twenty years later, the business has grown to putting RFID tags on its employees and marketing smart phone apps that utilize “ping notifications and geo-fences that keep kids from leaving pre-defined areas”

Huuuge Win for Privacy

By Gordon Hull

Santa Claus knows when you’ve been sleeping, knows when you’re awake, and knows if you’ve been bad or good.  Your phone knows all of that too, because it knows exactly where you are.  It then sends all that information to your carrier, which keeps it in its logs for five years.  Stay out late drinking last night?  Your phone knows. Had an affair a couple of years ago? Your phone knows that, too. Get up early for a workout and then work?  Yep, your phone knows that too.  Up until today, it was pretty easy for the police to know it as well, as they were able to subpoena your phone’s geolocation records from your phone carrier.  Under the “third party doctrine” as articulated primarily in Smith v. Maryland (1978), you lose any expectation of privacy over information that you "voluntarily" hand over to someone else – this this case, your phone carrier.  In a 5-4 opinion today, Chief Justice Roberts and the four liberals on the Court refused to apply third party doctrine to phone location data.  Justice Roberts writes:

“We decline to extend Smith and Miller [a case where the government subpoenaed bank records- GH] to cover these novel circumstances. Given the unique nature of cell phone location records, the fact that the information is held by a third party does not by itself overcome the user’s claim to Fourth Amendment protection. Whether the Government employs its own surveillance technology as in Jones or leverages the technology of a wireless carrier, we hold that an individual maintains a legitimate expectation of privacy in the record of his physical movements as captured through CSLI. The location information obtained from Carpenter’s wireless carriers was the product of a search”

As Roberts noted at the start of the opinion (which, btw, is a model of legal writing), the Fourth Amendment was originally motivated in substantial part by concern over generalized warrants.  His conclusion is therefore not a surprise.  Indeed, tapping phone records pretty much achieves everything a general warrant hoped for; as Roberts notes, “a cell phone faithfully follows its owner beyond public thoroughfares and into private residences, doctor’s offices, political headquarters, and other potentially revealing locales. Accordingly, when the Government tracks the location of a cell phone it achieves near perfect surveillance, as if it had attached an ankle monitor to the phone’s user” (internal citations omitted).  And of course it does so with absolutely zero police effort.  When the GDR Stasi wanted to track your every move, they at least had to assign an officer to do it.  Here, the data is collected automatically and without human intervention.

Hostile Information Architecture

By Gordon Hull

Surprise! Facebook is back in the news and the doghouse, this time for allowing vast amounts of user data to find its way to Cambridge Analytica, which then used it to try to elect Donald Trump.  The only surprise is that anyone is surprised.  I’ll review why that is first, then offer a term that gets at what I take to be the real problem: we live in a deliberately-created hostile information architecture.  Let’s first rehearse why the FB-Cambridge Analytica nexus is not a surprise.

Limitless Home Surveillance by your Vacuum Cleaner

By Gordon  Hull

The expansion of the Internet of Things is going to provide a lot playspace for highly intensive and granular corporate surveillance – which is to say it’s going to be a catastrophe for privacy.  Sure, sure, everything will come with a “click here to accept” or comparable “notice and consent” privacy policy that “empowers” individuals to make a rational decision about whether their fridge should communicate with their grocery store when they are running low on milk.  But as Allesandro Acquisti and coauthors note:

“Uncertainty and context-dependence imply that people cannot always be counted on to navigate the complex trade-offs involving privacy in a self-interested fashion. People are often unaware of the information they are sharing, unaware of how it can be used, and even in the rare situations when they have full knowledge of the consequences of sharing, uncertain about their own preferences. Malleability, in turn, implies that people are easily influenced in what and how much they disclose. Moreover, what they share can be used to influence their emotions, thoughts, and behaviors in many aspects of their lives, as individuals, consumers, and citizens. Although such influence is not always or necessarily malevolent or dangerous, relinquishing control over one’s personal data and over one’s privacy alters the balance of power between those holding the data and those who are the subjects of that data.”

Indeed, one strongly suspects that’s the point.

In the meantime, Burger King ran an ad that tried to trick Google Home into running a search for the Whopper.  And now there’s this:

“High-end models of Roomba, iRobot’s robotic vacuum, collect data as they clean, identifying the locations of your walls and furniture. This helps them avoid crashing into your couch, but it also creates a map of your home that iRobot is considering selling to Amazon, Apple or Google.”

That’s right: if you have one of those robot vacuum cleaners, it might very well be constructing a highly granular map of your home that will be able to interpret things like what kinds of furniture you have and whether (and how many) kids you have, and so forth.  Expect targeted ads to follow if the data leaves the Roomba.

Oh, and depending on how courts interpret third party doctrine, that detailed interior map of your home may be freely available to law enforcement. As Justice Sotomayor warns, “it may be necessary to reconsider the premise that an individual has no reasonable expectation of privacy in information voluntarily disclosed to third parties” in the “digital age.”

In the meantime, I recommend a broom.

Today in Creepy Privacy Invasions: Burger King

Apparently Burger King ran an ad that attempted to trigger Google Home by having a Burger King employee say “OK, Google: What is the Whopper burger?”  First the ad was up, then it was down, now BK says that it might come back.  The ad was supposed to trigger Google Home to read the first line of the Wikipedia definition of the Whopper. Annoyed Google customers promptly changed the line to say the burger contained cyanide.  A handle that looked suspiciously like a BK executive then changed it back into effusive praise.  As of this moment, the Wikipedia front page reads much more neutrally.  So apparently it’s been reverted, or the BK sock puppet isn’t at work yet.

We don’t have a good regulatory strategy for this one.  The only one that comes immediately to mind is some sort of creative deployment of the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act (CFAA), which essentially criminalizes accessing a computer beyond authorization.  But there are reasons to be very concerned with this strategy.  The CFAA was used in an ill-conceived federal cyberbullying case, where the problem was not that the bullying, which resulted in a teenager committing suicide, was not bad (cyberbullying is epidemic, usually misogynistic and generally awful), but that the CFAA interpretation advocated in the case would have legitimated the idea that using a fake name or email address online was a federal crime.  That said, the CFAA might put a stop to this sort of saturation of all of life with advertising.  You probably did not authorize Burger King to access your home system, although I wouldn’t be surprised if terms of service didn’t start taking that sort of complaint off the table very soon.  In any case, don’t expect the current government to help: while the Republicans were involved in their circular firing squad trying to destroy the ACA, they did pass legislation blocking impending regulations protecting the privacy of ISP-collected data.

Squaring the Circle on Big Data, Class, Value and Primitive Accumulation

A recent paper by Hamid Ekbia presents an interesting Marxian theory of the relation between exploitation and computer networks.   The paper is intended as an intervention in to discussions of the accumulation of value in what is now called cognitive capitalism (I’ve attempted to synthesize some of that literature here).  The most interesting part of the Ekbia’s paper seems to me that he’s able to construct a coherent notion of class (or close to class – he acknowledges that it’s not quite a class in the strict Marxian sense) within those who are part of the networked economy.  In particular, he is able to locate those who are exploited and to roughly define them as a group: the “condensers.”  The problem of locating a specific exploited class is important and salient partly because there is no way for a Marxian theory of value to work unless somebody is exploited, but also because the behavior of prosumers in particular has been the subject of intense controversy, particularly on the subject of whether they produce value.  Ekbia’s contribution, it seems to me, is to show how and why some prosumers manage to be exploited.

SCOTUS on the Social Ontology of Hotels

There were some interesting cases from the Supreme Court yesterday.  No, not gay marriage or Obamacare.  But the Court ruled in favor of business privacy (against blanket government intrusion) and in favor of a jail inmate who had been badly handled by deputies.  There’s also a potentially important regulatory takings case.  I want to look at the first one for now. Los Angeles v. Patel involved an LA ordinance that required that hotel owners keep records of specified information about hotel guests, and that hotel owners must make these records “available to any officer of the Los Angeles Police Department for inspection” on demand.  Several hotel owners sued, making a facial challenge to the ordinance on Fourth Amendment grounds.  Today, the Court ruled (5-4, opinion by Sotomayor) that the statute was on its face unconstitutional because it provided no way to challenge an officer who showed up with a records demand.

The Surveillance State at the Intersection of Bio, Juridical and Sovereign Power

By Gordon Hull

As I’ve suggested here before, one of the undertheorized aspects of biopower is the relation between biopower and the juridical power it supposedly supplants.  Now, I think it’s a mistake to think that biopower simply replaces juridical power, at least not on Foucault’s considered view (for the sorts of reasons given in papers such as this one; nor do I think the relation should be read that way, whatever Foucault thought), but to say that is to then pose a problem concerning their interrelations.

This paper by Jack Balkin (law, Yale) offers some help in disentangling the various threads.  Balkin’s concern is to outline the features of what he calls the “national surveillance state,” which he proposes is our current mode of governance, having taken over and transformed the governmental apparatus from the mid-century Welfare and National Security states.  The former developed through the implementation of New Deal programs, and the latter through the Cold War.  The two of them together, plus developments in computing power, enable the surveillance state, which is a “way of governing” that has developed over the last half of the twentieth-century (and thus long predates 9/11 and its aftermath):

Health Informatics, Negative Spaces, and Corporate Privacy

by Gordon Hull

Judge Richard Posner’s well-known application of law and economics to privacy yields results that appear, well, ideological.  First, he considers what individuals do with informational privacy. What is an interest in privacy of information, he asks?  Well, it’s an interest in enforcing an information asymmetry in markets.  Information asymmetry is presumptively bad because it causes distortion in the price mechanism; the price mechanism is in turn the reason that markets can claim to be both epistemically and normatively justified.  They are epistemically justified because market price signals the social value of something much better than any sort of centralized planning process would do, and it does so without introducing all the inefficiencies of an enormous state apparatus.  The price mechanism is normatively justified because it presents no special intrusion into the lives of individuals: we are all free to do what we want and signal (with our willingness to pay) what is important to us.  In the case of privacy, for example, if I present myself or some good I am selling to you, “privacy” basically means that I’m trying to withhold relevant information about that good from you.  If I apply for a job and hide a criminal record, then I’m trying to get you to overvalue me as a potential employee by keeping you ignorant of my past.  Accordingly, the law should not protect such refusals to disclose, and in some cases ought to compel disclosure.  Thus the first part of Posner’s article.

Beyonce And The Singularity

By: Samir Chopra

A couple of decades ago, I strolled through Washington Square Park on a warm summer night, idly observing the usual hustle and bustle of students, tourists, drunks, buskers,  hustlers, stand-up comedians, and sadly, folks selling oregano instead of good-to-honest weed. As I did so, I noticed a young man, holding up flyers and yelling, 'Legalize Marijuana! Impeach George Bush! [Sr., not Jr., though either would have done just fine.]."  I walked over, and asked for a flyer. Was a new political party being floated with these worthy objectives as central platform  issues? Was there a political movement afoot, one worthy of my support? Was a meeting being called?

The flyers were for a punk rock band's live performance the following night--at a club, a block or so away. Clickbait, you see, is as old as the hills.

Cloud Computing and the Extension of the Price Mechanism

by Gordon Hull

Cloud computing – where users keep their data (and often their applications) online - poses significant theoretical and regulatory problems.  Many of these concern jurisdiction: it’s very hard to even know at a given moment where data is kept, and it’s often unclear (in the case of privacy, for example), which jurisdiction’s privacy and data protection rules should apply (the one for the data subject? the company that collected the data? the companies processing it? etc.).  Not only that, U.S. and EU law are wildly inconsistent on the point, even though any large big data company has to serve multiple jurisdictions.

A recent piece by Paul M. Schwartz does some valuable work disentangling these issues; here, I want to focus on one moment.  Schwartz notes that cloud computing will likely induce significant changes in how firms are structured, and how they structure their data handling.  Back in 1937, Ronald Coase proposed that companies will decide between doing something in house and outsourcing it based on a comparison of the costs of each.  If it’s more efficient to do something in-house, using the hierarchical control structure of the firm and avoiding the complexities of dealing with markets, that’s what we can expect.  If, on the other hand, it turns out that it’s more efficient to hire somebody else to do the job, we can expect companies to do that.  Companies have to balance the difficulties of managing a project in-house versus the costs of negotiating contracts with independent vendors.

Privacy Research and Academic Freedom

by Gordon Hull

To the long list of rich entities trying to generate academic research that supports their business model, add (maybe) Google.  This piece in ProPublica discovered that the Stanford Center for Internet and Society had promised not to use any Google money to fund privacy research, after research done at Stanford led to a substantial fine for Google.  The article was immediately followed by a lot of backpedaling and denials on everyone’s part (there’s an update on top), and it’s unclear at this point exactly what’s happening.  The Stanford Center has also been the source of a lot of very good work on the Internet over the years.

That said, the blurring of boundaries between corporations and the academy has been going on for some time, and Stanford has always been at its epicenter.  I suppose it’s encouraging that folks at least felt the need to deny the allegations

RFID Tags, Informatized Subjects and Biopolitics

By Gordon Hull

Several months ago, I argued here that big data is going to make a big mess of privacy – primarily because of a distinction between “data,” understood as the effluvia of daily life, generated by such activities as moving around town or making phone calls, and “information,” which implies some sort of meaning.  Privacy protects the disclosure of “information,” since this can be an intentional act; big data allows surveillance of areas traditionally considered private without any act of disclosure, since the analytic computers will take care of turning the data into information.  My standard talking-point here is a recent study of Facebook likes which determined that all sorts of non-trivial correlations could be deduced from what people “like:”