November 20, 2006--Social Mapping
Recently I received a letter from Cingular, my cell phone “service provider,” in which I was notified that by the end of November my old phone would be obsolete because Cingular was switching to a new system. My phone, I think, is analog and the new system requires, I think, digital phones.
You should have already figured out from the two “I think’s” that cell phones and other things electronic are not one of my natural specialties. In fact, I shake with anxiety every time I turn on the computer with which I am writing and posting this, fearing that if I touch one wrong button the entire blog and everything I have ever written will irretrievably disappear. I have been told countless times that this is not true—that quite the contrary, a computer’s hard drive, I think, has everything stored, even things you’d prefer no one to know about. But still my hands tremble.
So when I received that letter I of course assumed that the whole thing was a scam to sell me something I didn’t need or want. But when I went to the Cingular store I came away convinced that I did in fact need a new phone and that, want them or not, my new phone had all sorts of “features” that would make my life more interesting, fun, and convenient. Though I’m not sure just why I have to “customize” my “ring tone.” Try as I did, I could not find a tone that sounded anything like a real telephone ring—which, you might imagine, is my preference.
But I have already used the camera, with its video capacity, and I did manage to figure out how to use one of the photos I took as “wallpaper” for the phone’s illuminated screen. But when I went back the next day to ask how I might send a photo I had taken via the phone to someone else, I glazed over when they told me how to do it and that I needed the “media option,” for a small additional monthly charge. I took a pass on that.
But while I was there they also told me, since I do a decent amount of traveling about, I could add the G.P.S. option. I could use this, they said, to find my way around; if I had children and they had one of these devices, I could always know where they were; if I wanted to know where Borat was playing the G.P.S. phone would show me the location closest to me and how to get there; and ditto for restaurants. I passed on that option too, thinking that I prefer to wander around and get lost and in the getting lost I invariably stumble on things that are more interesting than what I was originally seeking—sort of a Zen experience where you get found by getting lost.
Then by coincidence, the NY Times ran a piece yesterday about G.P.S. cell phone systems (linked below) that do a lot more than help you find a place to eat. One of my favorites is the one offered by Earthlink. In its new phone, the Drift, they include the Buddy Beacon. With a push of a button, on the Drift a map pops up that shows the location of 25 of your closest friends, assuming of course they all have Drift phones and, of course, that you have 25 friends. I have about three. Sprint has something equivalent that provides what they call a “social mapping service.”
In the midst of all these fun and games, think about what else one could do with these phones—a clue comes from their capacity to know where your children are. If they can do that, there is also the built-in capacity for those in change of the mapping system to know where you are! Bad guys, for example. Or your spouse if you are out cheating. And, as a stretch of imagination, even governments. Yes, you can “turn off your location,” but in the right 1984 circumstances even doing that can make you look suspicious.
It is true that we are rapidly becoming a post-privacy society--telephone booths are no longer booths with doors; subway Metro cards record the time date and location of every trip you make; stores and banks video and record everyone; more and more cities have remote controlled surveillance cameras on every street corner (there are currently 4 million, yes, positioned throughout England); and now you can get a phone that you can use to locate everyone you know and others can use to keep track of your every step.
I want my old phone back!
You should have already figured out from the two “I think’s” that cell phones and other things electronic are not one of my natural specialties. In fact, I shake with anxiety every time I turn on the computer with which I am writing and posting this, fearing that if I touch one wrong button the entire blog and everything I have ever written will irretrievably disappear. I have been told countless times that this is not true—that quite the contrary, a computer’s hard drive, I think, has everything stored, even things you’d prefer no one to know about. But still my hands tremble.
So when I received that letter I of course assumed that the whole thing was a scam to sell me something I didn’t need or want. But when I went to the Cingular store I came away convinced that I did in fact need a new phone and that, want them or not, my new phone had all sorts of “features” that would make my life more interesting, fun, and convenient. Though I’m not sure just why I have to “customize” my “ring tone.” Try as I did, I could not find a tone that sounded anything like a real telephone ring—which, you might imagine, is my preference.
But I have already used the camera, with its video capacity, and I did manage to figure out how to use one of the photos I took as “wallpaper” for the phone’s illuminated screen. But when I went back the next day to ask how I might send a photo I had taken via the phone to someone else, I glazed over when they told me how to do it and that I needed the “media option,” for a small additional monthly charge. I took a pass on that.
But while I was there they also told me, since I do a decent amount of traveling about, I could add the G.P.S. option. I could use this, they said, to find my way around; if I had children and they had one of these devices, I could always know where they were; if I wanted to know where Borat was playing the G.P.S. phone would show me the location closest to me and how to get there; and ditto for restaurants. I passed on that option too, thinking that I prefer to wander around and get lost and in the getting lost I invariably stumble on things that are more interesting than what I was originally seeking—sort of a Zen experience where you get found by getting lost.
Then by coincidence, the NY Times ran a piece yesterday about G.P.S. cell phone systems (linked below) that do a lot more than help you find a place to eat. One of my favorites is the one offered by Earthlink. In its new phone, the Drift, they include the Buddy Beacon. With a push of a button, on the Drift a map pops up that shows the location of 25 of your closest friends, assuming of course they all have Drift phones and, of course, that you have 25 friends. I have about three. Sprint has something equivalent that provides what they call a “social mapping service.”
In the midst of all these fun and games, think about what else one could do with these phones—a clue comes from their capacity to know where your children are. If they can do that, there is also the built-in capacity for those in change of the mapping system to know where you are! Bad guys, for example. Or your spouse if you are out cheating. And, as a stretch of imagination, even governments. Yes, you can “turn off your location,” but in the right 1984 circumstances even doing that can make you look suspicious.
It is true that we are rapidly becoming a post-privacy society--telephone booths are no longer booths with doors; subway Metro cards record the time date and location of every trip you make; stores and banks video and record everyone; more and more cities have remote controlled surveillance cameras on every street corner (there are currently 4 million, yes, positioned throughout England); and now you can get a phone that you can use to locate everyone you know and others can use to keep track of your every step.
I want my old phone back!
posted by Steven Zwerling at
10:38 AM
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