April 13, 2018--Post-Privacy

More than usual people are concerned about privacy. This the result of the news that Facebook did not prevent the sharing of very personal information about 87 million of us. In fact, they sold it to Cambridge Analytica, which, in turn may or may not have used that data in shady ways to support Donald Trump's run for the presidency.

What did people addicted to Facebook (me included) think they were doing with all the data about our intimate selves we so casually handed over to them? 

Facebook makes billions every month but doesn't charge users to use their "platform." What was Facebook's business model that yielded so much money? If we had paused for a minute to think about how Instagram's and Google's and Snapchat's and YouTube's and Twitter's business models make a fortune but do not charge users we would have realized they made their money by selling us out to marketers and political consultants. 

So all the outrage directed toward Facebook sounds a little self-serving and inauthentic. My bet is that hardly anyone will as a result stop using Facebook or the others.

And, it seems to me, that very few people care profoundly about this. I want my Facebook; I don't want to pay to use it; and I don't care very much, perhaps not at all, about losing my privacy.

After all, don't the social network platforms depend upon us eagerly wanting to surrender our privacy? Aren't they ultimately narcissistic-enabling vehicles for us to let it all, or much of it, hang out for "friends" and friends of friends and friends of friends' friends? Isn't the dream of much of this to have one's postings widely shared, go viral? How else can that happen unless we put it all out there to be passed around?

Years ago I had early glimpses of how people were moving to sacrifice privacy for the sake of convenience and expediency. Though at the time I really didn't get it.

About two decades ago I was online at Citibank (not on-line) waiting to deposit a check. This in the day before there were ATMs. Ahead of me were two women who were talking at full volume. One was worried about her daughter, "I'm afraid she's becoming addicted to cocaine," she said loud enough for everyone on line to hear. "I don't know what to do with her. I can't afford to pay for a recovery program. I suppose I just have to hope for the best."  

Her friend put an arm around her and, changing the subject, began to talk, equally audibly, about her boyfriend, "He punched me the other day. We were having an argument and he got violent. Slapped my face hard enough that I think he loosened a couple of my molars." She opened her mouth wide and showed her friend the two teeth. Her friend leaned closer to examine her teeth.

Thankfully, they soon got to the head of the line and were summoned by one of the tellers. The memory is still vivid for me.

A few years later, walking home on Broadway, there was a young woman who appeared to be talking to herself in a very loud voice. Another crazy person, I thought. So young to be talking to herself, I thought. But as I moved quickly to pass her, I realized she was speaking to someone on her cell phone, talking into the wire attached to the phone on which there was a small microphone. Again, without needing to strain to pay attention I could hear every word she said. They were talking about meeting that evening at a local restaurant. All very benign, but evidence that the culture was shifting. I realized we would soon have no need for the phone booths with accordion doors that were still common on urban streets.

Some time after that I was in Washington for a meeting with Alaska Senator Ted ("Uncle Ted") Stevens. He was the chair of the all-powerful Appropriations Committee and I was, I confess, seeking his support for a $20.0 million earmark for a promising public school reform project that, to lubricate the process of seeking his help, we were more than willing to bring to his state.

He was about to be term-limited out of the chairmanship so the timing was urgent. 

We spoke about the project (which he later arranged to be funded) and then he told me that as a consolation for losing the Appropriations chair, he was to become the chair of the Senate Commerce Committee. He wasn't, to tell the truth, happy about this. It was a much less powerful position.

"One thing I'm concerned about," he said, "is the responsibility for protecting internet security. Really, privacy. And to be honest with you, I'm 82 years old, and don't know anything about the internet or, for the matter, computers."

"So, what are you going to do?" I asked.

"I'll tell you what I already did," he said, smiling, "I asked my youngest staffers to do a little looking around and see what they could learn about me on the internet. You know, when and where I was born, where I live, who I'm married to. Things of that sort. I told them to get back to me in a week or so and they said no problem."

"I think I know where this is going," I said.

"Well, later in the day, the same day, they appeared in my doorway holding stacks and stakes of paper. 'What's all that?' I asked them. They told me it was what they had already come up with on the internet. You wouldn't believe what they found in just a few hours."

"I would," I whispered. He was on a roll and I didn't want to interrupt him.

"You know I have six kids. Well, not only did they find out everything about Cathy-Ann and me but also about them. Where they were born, how old they are, where they went to school, what they studied, and what they did after college. Also, where they live, and if they owned a house how much they paid for it. They even knew about their student loans and any mortgages on their properties."

He shrugged his shoulders, "And that's just the tip of the iceberg. It's enough to say that everything's out there to be found by anyone who knows how to do that. And my staffers told me how easy that is. From what they explained to me I understood why it only took a couple of hours to gather all that information."

"This is terrible," I said, "And so as the about-to-be chair of the Commerce Committee what are you thinking about doing?"

He stared off into space, "Probably nothing."

"Nothing?" I was incredulous. Remember, it was years ago. For most of us knowing about the power of the internet was rather new.

"It's too late," he said, "No one in Congress cares anything about this. They think it's good for business. No one gives a rat's ass about privacy. As I said, it's all over."

This was 2005 and from an 82-year-old senator from Alaska who never turned on a computer. He was still able to see the future.

"It's over. It's all over," he said as I thanked him and turned to leave.

Senater (Uncle Ted) Stevens

March 27, 2018--Still A Long Way, Baby

Until yesterday I didn't pay much attention to NFL cheerleaders. Not the ones that Debbie did, but the actual ones such as Bailey Davis who was recently fired by the New Orleans Saints.

As reported by the New York Times, here's the story--

 
She was fired for allegedly not following team rules, which, among many other prohibitions, forbids its cheerleaders from having public social media pages. In Davis' case, she failed to make her Instagram page private and on it posted a picture of herself in a slinky one-piece swimsuit.

As silly as this may seem, considering what NFL cheerleaders are expected to do and look like on the filed ( a lot of T&A), it is beyond silly that the NFL and most of its teams have two very different sets of rules for the deportment of its players (many of whom are sexual and spousal abusers) and its cheerleaders (who, at their worst, since it is forbidden by team rules, have dated a player or two).

The Saints have to avoid contact with players, though players are not disciplined for equivalent behavior with cheerleaders. They are required to block players from following them on Facebook and the like though, again, players are not required to do the same.

Incredibly, cheerleaders are not allowed to dine in the same restaurants or speak to players if they find themselves in the same watering hole. If a cheerleader shows up and a player is present, she is required to turn around and leave. Most outrageous, if a cheerleader is already seated at a table and a player appears, she is required to stop eating, immediately get up, and leave!

The team says, these and other similar rules are designed to "protect cheerleaders from players preying on them."

Knowing their players all too well, protecting cheerleaders from them is not that bad an idea. But the Saints' rules put the onus on its cheerleaders to protect themselves from testosterone-suffused players.

To view this another way, while 350-pound players make millions a year for slamming into each other and administering concussions, cheerleaders basically make minimum wage (in New Orleans, $10.55 an hour) for jiggling around even in freezing weather half naked in team-designed outfits. 

Again, think about the Dallas Cowgirls, not Bailey Davis on Instagram. 

April 29, 2014--Career Politicians

Congressman Aaron Schook, Republican from Illinois, was a guest on Monday’s Morning Joe.

His current claims to fame? He just returned from a trip to six European countries accompanying Eric Cantor and Paul Ryan. And, more interesting, he had recently posted an Instagram photo of himself surfing in what looked more like Waikiki than Kiev.

When pressed about the photo, the former Cosmo model said that since nothing is private any more, wanting to control how he is perceived by the public, he is now posting things about himself to get control of his own "narrative."

As if there is pent-up desire for anyone to want to know more about him, much less how he looks in a bathing suit. Actually, quite hot, which, I was imagining, was why he was booked for Joe in the first place since when asked about anything involving public policy or foreign affairs, he sputtered innocuously, with a vacant but handsome look from standard Republican talking points.

When asked about immigration reform he said, correctly, that nothing will happen this congressional session unless Republicans and Democrats work together.

“Why is that so difficult?” he was asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and with a sigh said that when you think about running for Congress and then during the early days if elected, your desire to do “the right thing” evaporates when you realize this is “a hard thing to do.”

To this glimpse of insight there was no follow up.

Neither Mika nor any of the others (Joe was not present) asked why it’s hard.

Perhaps because they already knew the answer—new congressmen quickly learn that in the House to get along you have to go along with your party’s leadership (Democrats as well GOPers). And, in order to give yourself the best chance to be reelected every two years you have to tow the party line and not alienate the money people who will provide the cash to fund your campaigns.

Debriefing with Rona over coffee we talked about why neither of us has ever heard a reporter or cable news host probe why seemingly every member of Congress sees getting reelected time after time as his or her highest priority.

Rather than seeing this form of public service to be just that—service—all seemingly are primarily interested in building congressional careers.

Our Founders envisioned participation in the government to be a responsibility, not résumé building. They didn’t call for members of Congress to be paid (for years they weren’t) much less have retirement and health insurance benefits. Or, congressional barbershops, restaurants, and gyms.

They would be horrified to see people lingering in Congress for decades.

Wouldn’t it have been interesting for someone on Morning Joe to have asked Congressman Schook, who is a conservative and reveres the Constitution, how he reconciles his own congressional careerist ambitions with the vision of those who fought our Revolution, wrote our Constitution, and called for citizens to play limited and temporary roles in our government.

I’m not sure there are talking points for that. Either for congressmen or, for that matter, talk show hosts.