Journal Journal: For Sale: My Privacy
I'm willing to sell my privacy. I don't want to defend it, and I don't think it's worth much. But it seems to worth something, and I'm ready to deal.
I have a credit card. Many people don't. For instance, I enjoy the writing and thinking of a certain celebrity in technology. On his homepage, he offers to visit, to speak on his area of expertise. But while I'm making arrangements for the hotel, he cautions me that he doesn't have a credit card.
"I value my privacy," he says.
You need a credit card to check in to a hotel. You generally need one to make purchases online or over the phone. A better credit rating usually means a better mortgage. It must be very inconvenient to opt out of this system. I'm not vexed by his choice. No doubt he deals with bigger problems than I can imagine, in the spheres he travels.
I firmly support the right to privacy. And this isn't about identity fraud. Fraud and privacy are related but distinct issues.
Another example? I love Yahoo LAUNCHcast. It's not an Internet radio station; it's my radio station. With each song, I rate the song, artist, and album. "Never again" is a choice; the song ends on that note, and the next one's in the pipe. Over time, my ratings shape the music that's played. I can't request a specific song; Napster this ain't. But after a few hundred ratings, the station is so customized I don't care.
What's the catch? My privacy: for sale. It recommends songs for me, based on my expressed tastes. (Remember, I can say "Never again.") Oh, and an occasional commercial. From my choices, Yahoo builds a profile, to compile with others. I am so many data points in the media's navel-gazing machine.
And therein lies my insignificance. You can build my credit report, you can track my e-transactions, and you can listen to my radio station. I get a house, the latest game, and a customized playlist.
I don't encrypt my email. I respect your right to do so.
Business and politics: information is power, so I understand privacy. Health issues? Religion? I'm right with you. If you're on the clock, on company hardware, don't make me laugh. If you're a public servant, I've been there. Stick to business at work, and save alt.sex.pandas for home.
Home... Do I want you watching me surf? No, but only because you're probably mentally disturbed for wanting to. Perhaps you spy on my secrets anyway: ribald humor, leftist politics, some erotic fiction. Banner ad click-through: the horror! Or you could just ask. But take my word for it: I'm boring.
Yet I'm a consumer, corporations sell, and there is no free lunch. When my favorite Web comics ask me to visit their sponsors, I do. For I have the currency of the digital age: me, myself, and I.
What can you offer?