Monday, June 10, 2013

A few thoughts on privacy.

I'm sure that I'm missing some critical points in the privacy debate that this 29-year-old-punk-now- hiding-out-in-Hong-Kong-of-all-places-Edward-Snowden started last week when he "leaked" information about the NSA's collection and potential use of Americans' cell phone records to a newspaper... for example: con law was pretty much my worst subject in law school, I have no idea what kind of information someone could actually get from phone "meta data", I hadn't heard of the NSA until last week, I couldn't really explain to you the difference between probable cause and any other legal standard, and I don't know what the Pfizer Court is. But, my admitted ignorance aside, here's what I think...

I choose to blog about aspects of my life that are far more important and personal than the fact that I texted my dad last night about Father's Day. Things like miscarriages, my marriage, grief, my mom, my friendships. And I'm not the only one.

I voluntarily email my friends pictures of my pregnant body in a swimsuit. And I've seen half a dozen similar, even more incriminating photos on Facebook over the last week alone.

I let my little brother stay in the hospital room when I got fitted for my first nursing bra and didn't hide from my dad or my father-in-law when I nursed Audrey. All with no hesitation whatsoever. None. I didn't even blush.

In short, so many of us put ourselves out there on a regular basis, I'm not sure how we can really claim that we have an expectation of privacy over much these days. I know there is a line and sure, there are things I'd be unhappy about the government doing, but collecting my phone records? Not one of them at this point.

In short, our national security (and the safety of my family, friends and neighborhood) is more important to me than whether the government knows or cares where I was when I made a phone call to my hair salon to set up an appointment to have my grey touched up, called my OB not sure whether I was leaking amniotic fluid or had just peed my pants (turns out it was the latter, thank goodness), or dialed the plumbing company about the disgusting sewage problem in my basement.

If you don't have anything to hide, who cares if someone is looking?

Counter arguments welcome,
Kate

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