As an intuitive I found the electronics from space very discomforting first in the 1970s. It took me some time to adapt to all the electronic changes as a DNA based intuitive being like you and me. An intuitive has heightened cellular awareness. DNA of plants and animals and humans all communicate with each other and not just in the same body. So, this electronic Interference I found painful in the extreme at first. I talked to my angels about it and they reminded me of other lifetimes in the past, present and future with heightened surveilance that I have already experienced so I was able to more easily to adapt while others went mad or died from heightened electronics from satellites, then radio telephones, Walkie talkies, Cell phones, Microwave towers, Wifi in homes and STarbucks etc. Then Cellular data on smartphones everywhere and the list just keeps growing. No wonder whales beach themselves and die from extreme sonar and some people go crazy and die from ever increasing forms of electronics worldwide and most people likely don't know what is driving them mad or killing them.
One way to adapt to all this is to move to a remote place in the country with no visible microwave towers anywhere. Living in an underground (no electronics might help too). Or I suppose you could just go live downtown in a city with maximum electronic interference to your cellular structure too. People do both or either at different times in their lives.
However, do what is best for you to survive for now. Because if you don't survive all this: "What's the point anyway?"
But, from my point of view (unless you live right under a microwave tower or high tension 50,000 volt power lines) it just might be survivable. All it takes is the will to survive it all for you and whatever children or grandchildren you have on into the future.
for a better copy I would click the word button two lines down unless that won't work in the country you are in.
begin quote from:
They Are Watching You—and Everything Else on the Planet - National ...
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2018/02/surveillance-watching-you/
Jan 26, 2018 - About
10:30 on a Saturday morning in the north London borough of Islington,
two men on mopeds race down the shopping corridor of Upper Street.
Sheathed in helmets, gloves, and jackets, they look more like manic video game figures than humans. They weave through traffic and around double-decker ...
February 2018 - National Geographic
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/magazine/2018/02/
They Are Watching You—and Everything Else on the Planet
Technology and our increasing demand for security have put us all under surveillance. Is privacy becoming just a memory?
This story appears in the February 2018 issue of National Geographic magazine.
About 10:30 on a Saturday morning in the north London borough
of Islington, two men on mopeds race down the shopping corridor of Upper
Street. Sheathed in helmets, gloves, and jackets, they look more like
manic video game figures than humans. They weave through traffic and
around double-decker buses at kamikaze velocity. Motorists flinch at
their approach. The bikers pop wheelies and execute speedy figure eights
along the busy street. Still, something more purposeful than joyriding
would seem to be on their minds.
After three or four minutes, they abruptly turn off Upper and onto a
quiet and leafy residential avenue. They hop the curb and cut their
engines. Dismounting on the sidewalk, their helmets still on, they fall
into a lengthy conversation. Their dialogue is known only to them. But
there is something the men themselves likely don’t know: About a mile
away, from a windowless room, two other men are watching them.
“They’re moving,” Sal says to Eric.
The two men sit 10 feet apart, behind a long console in Islington’s
closed-circuit television (CCTV) control room, painted and carpeted in
gray, with no adornments. Sal is middle-aged, while Eric is decades
younger. Both wear casual office attire. No small talk passes between
them. As the two bikers take off, Sal types away at his computer
keyboard, prompting Camera 10 to appear on his screen. And there they
are again, flying down Upper Street. As they disappear from Sal’s view,
Eric quickly locates them on Camera 163. With a joystick, he zooms the
camera onto the moped pulling up the rear until its license plate is
legible.
Sal radios the police station. “We have two suspicious mopeds doing wheelies on Upper Street.”
Facing the men is an immense display with 16 screens. It conveys live
images from Islington’s network of 180 CCTV cameras. By visible
evidence, this Saturday morning is a comparatively placid one. Earlier
in the week a young man had died after being stabbed in a flat, and from
the overpass at Archway Road, darkly referred to as “suicide bridge,”
another man had jumped to his death. Later today in Finsbury Park, the
cameras would spend hours panning across 35,000 festivalgoers in search
of pickpockets, drunken brawlers, and other assorted agents of petty
mischief.
For the moment, however, the bikers are the only action in Islington.
And though Sal and Eric—who have been doing this work for 15 and four
years, respectively—pursue their quarry from one camera to the next with
humdrum efficiency, I can almost see their blood quicken. For what we
have here, they believe, are two members of gangs that have been
plaguing Islington for more than a year. They snatch smartphones from
pedestrians, then sell the items on the black market. It happens about
50 times a week in the borough of nearly 233,000 residents.
And yet to the uninitiated, the prospect of catching the bikers in an
illegal act can feel almost irrelevant. Instead, I’m captivated by the
basic spectacle of two people who appear to have no idea they’re being
watched everywhere they go. Perhaps they’re criminals. Perhaps they’re
sociopaths. Our surveillance is inconclusive on these matters. The only
thing that’s certain is that we see them but they don’t see us. Like a
deer framed in a hunting riflescope, the bikers display no signs of
their vulnerability. In this way they are profoundly exposed.
That evening a few miles away, I’m sitting in a mobile trailer in
southwest London, just down the street from the Vauxhall Underground
Station. Beside me is an affable young man who goes by the name of Haz.
Several closed-circuit screens are arrayed in front of us, displaying
images provided by 10 cameras aimed at two nearby nightclubs.
CITY SURVEILLANCE
London authorities were early adopters of widespread closed-circuit television (CCTV)
surveillance after the city was targeted by terrorists using truck bombs in the early 1990s.
From 2012 to 2015 the city saw a 72 percent increase in cameras, making up one-third
of the U.K.’s cameras overall. Today Londoners are some of the most closely watched
city dwellers in the world; as one example, the borough of Islington, just north of central
London, monitors 180 cameras.
UNITED
KINGDOM
IRELAND
London
to Finsbury Park
Emirates
Stadium
Islington
Islington
CCTV density
in Greater London
Number of cameras
per square mile
4 mi
4 km
More than 20
0.5 mi
10-20
0.5 km
CCTV data for London and Islington are from 2015 and 2017, respectively. Islington map shows only fixed camera locations.
Fewer than 10
CCTV camera location
No data
Underground station
Haz is here a couple of weekends a month. The nightclubs, Lightbox
and Fire, wish to avoid legal troubles from drug deals by their patrons,
so they’ve commissioned a mobile CCTV operator and former policeman,
Gordon Tyerman, to have his man Haz keep an eye on the crowds.
Occasionally a clubgoer happens to notice one of the cameras and
responds by thrusting a middle finger or an exposed breast into Haz’s
field of vision. Otherwise, the thousands of young men and women
entering and exiting the clubs are his unwitting entertainment.
“This is the best, most exciting job I’ve had so far,” Haz says.
“It’s so unpredictable. Everything’s quiet, and then suddenly a fight
breaks out.”
Haz sits in the trailer for 10 hours straight, eyes trained on the
patrons. If he sees the makings of a drug deal or a fight, he notifies
the club’s in-house security by walkie-talkie. It amazes him how
indiscreet drug dealers can be—with the bulges in their socks and their
melodramatic handovers—despite the presence of security guards. “We ask
them, ‘How stupid can you be?’ ” he laughs. “And they take it as a
challenge.”
Tonight there are no drug deals, no fights, only the random
foolishness of the young and inebriated. They stagger with linked arms
down the middle of the street. They paw at each other. They get sick on
the sidewalk. In their sudden aloneness, they break out in sobs. Though
Haz maintains that he’s gained “invaluable skills from this job,”
chiefly the skills he’s honing are those of Vauxhall’s invisible,
after-hours anthropologist.
“There’s stuff you see on CCTV,” he marvels, “that makes you think,
‘That’s not adult behavior.’ They tend to forget who they are.”
But do they really tend to forget who they are? Or do they simply tend to forget that someone might be watching?
In 1949, amid the specter of European authoritarianism, the British novelist George Orwell published his dystopian masterpiece 1984,
with its grim admonition: “Big Brother is watching you.” As unsettling
as this notion may have been, “watching” was a quaintly circumscribed
undertaking back then. That very year, 1949, an American company
released the first commercially available CCTV system. Two years later,
in 1951, Kodak introduced its Brownie portable movie camera to an
awestruck public.
Today more than 2.5 trillion images are shared or stored on the
Internet annually—to say nothing of the billions more photographs and
videos people keep to themselves. By 2020, one telecommunications
company estimates, 6.1 billion people will have phones with
picture-taking capabilities. Meanwhile, in a single year an estimated
106 million new surveillance cameras are sold. More than three million
ATMs around the planet stare back at their customers. Tens of thousands
of cameras known as automatic number plate recognition devices, or
ANPRs, hover over roadways—to catch speeding motorists or parking
violators but also, in the case of the United Kingdom, to track the
comings and goings of suspected criminals. The untallied but growing
number of people wearing body cameras now includes not just police but
also hospital workers and others who aren’t law enforcement officers.
Proliferating as well are personal monitoring devices—dash cams, cyclist
helmet cameras to record collisions, doorbells equipped with lenses to
catch package thieves—that are fast becoming a part of many a city
dweller’s everyday arsenal. Even less quantifiable, but far more vexing,
are the billions of images of unsuspecting citizens captured by
facial-recognition technology and stored in law enforcement and
private-sector databases over which our control is practically
nonexistent.
Those are merely the “watching” devices that we’re capable of seeing.
Presently the skies are cluttered with drones—2.5 million of which were
purchased in 2016 by American hobbyists and businesses. That figure
doesn’t include the fleet of unmanned aerial vehicles used by the U.S.
government not only to bomb terrorists in Yemen but also to help stop
illegal immigrants entering from Mexico, monitor hurricane flooding in
Texas, and catch cattle thieves in North Dakota. Nor does it include the
many thousands of airborne spying devices employed by other
countries—among them Russia, China, Iran, and North Korea.
We’re being watched from the heavens as well. More than 1,700
satellites monitor our planet. From a distance of about 300 miles, some
of them can discern a herd of buffalo or the stages of a forest fire.
From outer space, a camera clicks and a detailed image of the block
where we work can be acquired by a total stranger.
Simultaneously, on that very same block, we may well be photographed
at unsettlingly close range perhaps dozens of times daily, from lenses
we may never see, our image stored in databases for purposes we may
never learn. Our smartphones, our Internet searches, and our social
media accounts are giving away our secrets. Gus Hosein, the executive
director of Privacy International, notes that “if the police wanted to
know what was in your head in the 1800s, they would have to torture you.
Now they can just find it out from your devices.”
This is—to lift the title from another British futurist, Aldous
Huxley—our brave new world. That we can see it coming is cold comfort
since, as Carnegie Mellon University professor of information technology
Alessandro Acquisti says, “in the cat-and-mouse game of privacy
protection, the data subject is always the weaker side of the game.”
Simply submitting to the game is a dispiriting proposition. But to
actively seek to protect one’s privacy can be even more demoralizing.
University of Texas American studies professor Randolph Lewis writes in
his new book, Under Surveillance: Being Watched in Modern America,
“Surveillance is often exhausting to those who really feel its
undertow: it overwhelms with its constant badgering, its omnipresent
mysteries, its endless tabulations of movements, purchases,
potentialities.”
The desire for privacy, Acquisti says, “is a universal trait among
humans, across cultures and across time. You find evidence of it in
ancient Rome, ancient Greece, in the Bible, in the Quran. What’s
worrisome is that if all of us at an individual level suffer from the
loss of privacy, society as a whole may realize its value only after
we’ve lost it for good.”
Is a looming state of Orwellian bleakness already a fait accompli? Or
is there a more hopeful outlook, one in which a world under watch in
many ways might be better off? Consider the 463 infrared camera traps
the World Wildlife Fund uses in China to monitor the movements of the
threatened giant panda. Or the thermal imaging devices that rangers
deploy at night to detect poachers in Kenya’s Masai Mara National
Reserve. Or the sound-activated underwater camera system developed by UC
San Diego researchers that tracks the nearly extinct vaquita porpoise
in the Sea of Cortez. Or the “forest watcher” cameras installed to help
protect the shrinking timberlands of Sri Lanka.
FACIAL RECOGNITION
Face-scanning technology is evolving rapidly
and is increasingly employed in high-security facilities such as
airports and government offices. Now some stores are even using it to
identify returning customers or shoplifters.
1
Finding a face
Systems extract patterns from an image
and compare them to a model of a face.
When patterns start to resemble the
model, the system signals it has homed
in on a face.
X4T3
79RT
A356
Personal devices
Checkpoint cameras
Other cameras
CCTV cameras
Smartphones use face
recognition for apps
and security, such as
unlocking the phone.
Faces are recorded at
customs and security
checkpoints, and the
images are archived.
Laptop, video, and
thermal cameras used in
some security systems
can capture face images.
Systems can isolate and
track individuals by
face, gait, and clothing
color and pattern.
Face imagery captured when a person poses for the
camera, such as at security checkpoints, is easier to
analyze; imagery captured from CCTV cameras may
require advanced methods and detailed analysis.
2
Creating a face template
Algorithms build more informative and
accurate digital representations—
called face templates—using thermal,
geometric, and other data, either
separately or combined.
Geometric
Photometric
Skin-texture analysis
Thermal sensors
Spatial relationships
between facial features,
such as the center of
the eyes and tip of the
nose, are calculated.
Algorithms can build a
face even if an image is
obscured by poor lighting
or distorted by odd
angles or expressions.
Pores, wrinkles, and
spots are mapped and
analyzed; the technology
can even differentiate
between twins.
This technology can
provide further informa-
tion despite obstacles
such as heavy makeup
or disguises.
3
Identifying a face
Once a face template is created, it
can be compared with databases
(such as for mug shots) to verify a
person’s identity or recognize
an individual in CCTV footage.
Identity
confirmed
“If you want a picture of the future,” Orwell darkly warned in his
classic, “imagine a boot stamping on a human face—forever.” This
authoritarian vision discounts the possibility that governments might
use such tools to make the streets safer. Recall, for example, the
footage from security cameras that cracked the cases of the 2005 London
subway and 2013 Boston Marathon bombings. Multitudes of more obscure
episodes exist, such as that of Euric Cain, caught unambiguously on
camera shooting a Tulane University medical student named Peter Gold in
2015 after Gold prevented him from abducting a woman on the streets of
New Orleans. (Gold survived; Cain received a 54-year prison sentence for
a crime rampage that included rapes, armed robbery, and attempted
murder.)
At the Port of Boston, the Department of Homeland Security has tested
a cargo-visualizing method invented by two MIT physicists, Robert
Ledoux and William Bertozzi. Using a technique known as nuclear
resonance fluorescence—in which elements become identifiable by exciting
their nuclei—the screening device can, without opening a freight
container, discern the elemental fingerprint of its contents. Unlike a
typical x-ray scan, which shows only shape and density, it can tell the
difference between soda and diet soda, natural and manufactured
diamonds, plastics and high-energy explosives, and nonnuclear and
nuclear material.
Does anyone doubt that a more closely inspected world over the past
150 years would have been a safer one? We might know the identity of
Jack the Ripper, whether Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone, and if O. J.
Simpson acted at all. Of course, public safety has been the pretext for
surveillance before and since Orwell’s time. But today such technology
can be seen as a lifesaver in more encompassing ways. Thanks to imagery
provided by satellite cameras, relief organizations have located
refugees near Mosul, encamped in the deserts of northern Iraq. And
thanks to numerous space probes, scientists have proof that the world’s
climate is dramatically changing.
Could the great Orwell’s imagination have failed? Could Big Brother
save humanity, rather than enslave it? Or might both scenarios be true
at the same time?
‘There is an appetite in the U.K. for surveillance that I
haven’t seen anywhere else in the world,” said Tony Porter, the world’s
only known surveillance camera commissioner, as we sat in the cafeteria
of a London government office with CCTV cameras peering at us from the
corners. A former police officer and counterterrorism specialist, Porter
was recruited four years ago by Her Majesty’s Home Office, responsible
for the security of the realm, to lend a semblance of oversight to the
country’s ever growing surveillance state. With a paltry annual budget
of $320,000, Porter and three staffers spend their workdays persistently
urging, with some success, government and commercial users of
surveillance cameras to comply with the relevant codes and guidelines.
But beyond mentioning the names of the noncompliant in a report to
Parliament, Porter’s office has no powers of enforcement.
Nonetheless, his appraisal of the U.K. as the most receptive country
in the world to surveillance technology is widely shared. London’s
network of surveillance cameras was first conceived in the early
nineties, in the wake of two bombings by the Irish Republican Army in
the city’s financial district. What followed was a fevered spread of
monitoring technology. As William Webster, a professor of public policy
at the University of Stirling in Scotland and an expert on surveillance,
recalls, “The rhetoric about public safety at the time was, ‘If you’ve
got nothing to hide, you’ve got nothing to fear.’ In hindsight, you can
trace that slogan back to Nazi Germany. But the phrase was commonly
used, and it crushed any sentiment against CCTVs.”
The city’s original security infrastructure, known as the “ring of
steel,” was later expanded and augmented by ANPR technology on major
thoroughfares. Now spread throughout the country are 9,000 such cameras,
which photograph and store 30 million to 40 million images daily of
every single passing license tag, not merely those of speeders or known
criminals. As former Scotland police counterterrorism coordinator Allan
Burnett observes, “It would be very difficult today to go through
Scotland and not be seen by an ANPR camera.”
“I’m pretty sure we now have more CCTVs per capita than any other
city on the planet,” the former U.K. deputy prime minister, Nick Clegg,
told me as he sat in his London office, watched by a camera across the
street trained directly on his back. “And basically, it’s happened
without any meaningful public or political debate whatsoever. Partly
it’s because we don’t have the history of fascism and nondemocratic
regimes, which in other countries have instilled profound suspicion of
the state. Here it feels benign. And as we know from history, it’s
benign until it isn’t.”
Elements of fear and romance help explain the profusion of
surveillance in the U.K. This, after all, is a country saved by
espionage: The museum commemorating the legendary World War II code
breakers at Bletchley Park, 40 miles northwest of London, is today a
much visited site. So, for that matter, is the London Film Museum’s
permanent exhibit on the dashing spy James Bond, a creation of the
writer and former British naval intelligence officer Ian Fleming. Agent
007 is bound up in the nation’s postwar self-appraisal, but so is the
jolting reality that the U.K. was one of the first countries to face the
constant fear of terrorist attacks. When it comes to protecting its
people, the British government is viewed in a more appreciative light
than perhaps those of other free societies. Even after the revelations
by former U.S. National Security Agency contract employee Edward Snowden
that American and British intelligence agencies had been collecting
bulk data from their own citizens—a disclosure that triggered calls for
reform by both political parties in the U.S.—Parliament essentially
enshrined those powers in late 2016 by passing the Investigatory Powers
Act with scant public outcry.
As David Omand, the former director of the Government Communications
Headquarters—one of the British intelligence agencies shown by Snowden
to be collecting bulk data—put it to me: “On the whole we see our
government as efficient and benign. It runs the National Health Service,
public education, and social security. And thank God, we haven’t been
through the experience of the man in the brown leather trench coat
knocking on the door at four in the morning. So when we talk about
government surveillance, the resonance is different here.”
That’s not by any means to say that a country like the United States,
with its more skeptical view of big government, is wholly immune to
surveillance creep. Most of its police departments are now using or
considering using body cameras—a development that, thus far at least,
has been cheered by civil liberties groups as a means of curbing law
enforcement abuses. ANPR cameras are in many major American cities as
traffic and parking enforcement tools. In the wake of the September 11
attacks, New York City ramped up its CCTV network and today has roughly
20,000 officially run cameras in Manhattan alone. Meanwhile, Chicago has
invested heavily in its network of 32,000 CCTV devices to help combat
the murder epidemic in its inner city.
But other U.S. cities with no history of terrorist attacks and
relatively low violent crime rates also have embraced surveillance
technology. I checked out the CCTV network that has quietly spread
throughout downtown Houston, Texas. As recently as 2005, the city didn’t
have a single such camera. But then Dennis Storemski, the director of
the Mayor’s Office of Public Safety and Homeland Security, began touring
other cities. “Basically, it was what I saw in London that got me
interested in the technology,” he recalls. Today, thanks to federal
grants, Houston has 900 CCTV cameras, with access to an additional 400.
As in London, officials don’t monitor every camera every minute—and as
such, Storemski says, “it’s not surveillance per se. We’ve wanted to
take away the expectation that people are watching.” Perhaps for that
reason, Houston’s CCTV reach will soon expand well beyond downtown,
but—in a state hardly known as trusting of government—without the
slightest drama.
Similarly, the acquiescence among the British to the proliferation of
cameras is as striking as any sound of silence could possibly be. CCTV
and ANPR cameras—and the signs announcing them (though by no means all
of them)—blend in as drab companions to the rest of the city’s
infrastructure. During three weeks in London, I strolled through the
quiet neighborhoods where Orwell and Huxley once resided. Orwell’s
house, on Canonbury Square in Islington, is within view of several CCTV
and ANPR cameras and is a mere four-minute walk from the borough’s
control room. For its part, the former Huxley residence a few miles away
is under constant watch in an impregnable steel-reinforced control
room.
Outside of the city in the county of South Yorkshire, I visited
Barnsley Hospital, where some security personnel are equipped with body
cameras to discourage unruly behavior by patients or visitors. Similar
cameras, it was reported during my stay, were being tested for use by
schoolteachers. Given that an estimated 150,000 British police officers
are already equipped with such devices, perhaps it’s an effortless next
step to contemplate them on other authority figures, such as educators
and nurses. From there, however, who’s next? Flight attendants? Postal
workers? Psychologists? Human resource directors?
“Some local authorities are seeking to compel taxi drivers to use
surveillance,” Porter, the surveillance camera commissioner, told me.
“Considering that, and the use of body cameras in hospitals and schools,
the question I’d put forward is: What kind of society do we want to
live in? Is it acceptable for all of us to go around legitimately
filming each other, just in case somebody commits a wrong against us?”
SATELLITES
More than 1,700 satellites orbit above us,
some as much as 100,000 miles overhead.
They collect images and other data,
broadcast information, track our locations,
and even listen to our conversations. U.S.
public institutions and companies operate
most satellites, with commercial launches
already far outstripping the government’s.
United
States
814
Planet
202 satellites
This company’s fleet has grown from just four satellites in 2013.
Earth observation
Collect data for intelligence gathering and environmental monitoring
Commercial
Lighter shades indicate satellites jointly owned with another country.
Government/
civic/military
Communications
Send point-to-point and broadcast transmissions
Navigation, timing, and tracking
Track ships, aid navigation, and synchronize timing for computer systems
Technology development
Test new technology and develop experimental payloads
China
205
U.s.-Russia
collaboration
Space science/other
Collect data about space and pursue other scientific inquiries
5
People’s
Liberation Army
39 satellites
Ministry of Defense
81 satellites
Russia
140
Some satellites are multipurpose, like this one, which is used for Earth observation, communications,
and space science.
others
578
Other satellites
About 60 countries operate the remaining satellites in orbit.
I thought about this last question during my final days ambling along
the well-scrubbed streets of London, my eyes now keenly attuned to the
cyclops-like glares from corners and lampposts. As my path inevitably
led me to the famed Westminster Bridge over the River Thames, I found
myself engulfed by tourists of various nationalities holding up
smartphones in an attempt to produce the ultimate London selfie. I
ducked and turned and apologized before realizing it was futile. And
these were just the cameras in front of my face. Were all of my
movements being casually documented in this way? Did it really make any
difference whether Big Brother was watching, given that everyone is
already watching everyone else?
I’d been discussing society’s growing pics-or-it-didn’t-happen
fixation with two keen observers. The first, Chloe Combi, is a former
schoolteacher whose first book, Generation Z: Their Voices, Their Lives,
is the fruit of hundreds of hours of interviews she conducted with
British teenagers. They demonstrated a remarkable nonchalance about
being photographed and filmed in almost every conceivable setting. “You
can watch a documentary of someone’s entire life on their phone,” Combi
told me. “We live in a world where, increasingly, nothing remains
secret. And one of the signs of true wealth and power may end up being
that privacy will become a commodity only for those who have the serious
money to buy it. For everybody else, all the world really will be a
stage, with all the people on it self-consciously playing their role.”
The futurist spectacle conjured up by Combi—one in which everyone is
simultaneously voyeur and exhibitionist, 24/7—struck me as a somewhat
egalitarian version of 1984 and Brave New World, yet no
less dystopic. Are we already there, at the endpoint of what University
of Kansas sociologist William Staples in 2000 called the “state of
permanent visibility,” except by our own acquiescence rather than by
governmental force? Our visual constellation is replete with adorable
babies, kittens, and elephants—but also ISIS beheadings, celebrities in
sexual congress, double-speaking politicians, police shootings of
unarmed civilians. Meanwhile, we’re seen, up close and far too
personally, by airport-security screeners, “smart” billboards that
tailor ads to us based on our appearance, and everyone who knows
everyone who caught us on camera on a day when we could swear we were
alone.
Whether this all adds up to a more enlightened society, an
overstimulated one, or a little bit of both is hard to say. I solicited
the thoughts of Susan Greenfield, a research neuroscientist and renowned
critic of social media obsessives, who also happens to be a member of
the British Parliament. Baroness Greenfield’s assessment was no less
stark than Combi’s. “The notion of privacy, of privation, is shutting
something out,” she said. “We need to cut ourselves off. Everyone seems
to think that it’s great to be connected and exposed all the time. But
what happens when everything is literal and visual? How do you explain a
concept like honor when you can’t find it on Google Images? The
universe of the abstract is inexplicable. The nuance in life
disappears.”
And so as I talked with Tony Porter in the cavernous and highly
surveilled cafeteria of the Home Office, I found myself repeating
something I’d expressed to him once before, months earlier: Didn’t this
whole fear-of-Big-Brother impulse seem rather quaint now?
“I now use that term in my speeches,” the surveillance camera
commissioner informed me with a pleased grin. Then he turned serious.
Porter had recently visited the United Arab Emirates, a federation of
monarchies that suppresses dissent and has a great deal of interest in
surveillance technology. That struck Porter as ominous. “I get where
you’re coming from,” he said. “But surveillance by the state is
invasive, it’s powerful, it’s capable of connectivity beyond people’s
wildest imaginations. That’s completely different from, say, a selfie.
“Look,” he went on, “the real threat is when we move towards
integrated surveillance. Large retailers are spending millions of pounds
looking at every conceivable element of this. I’m a middle-aged fat
guy; I walk into a supermarket and immediately on the intercom they
start advertising for croissants. What if it gets more sinister, and
from my Facebook profile they can target my daughter and ask where she
shops? Who’s going to regulate that? Or does it not need to be
regulated? Is the horse already out of the barn? Is it already
‘quaint’?”
RANGER
PATROL
VEHICLE
Poacher
The seemingly minute-by-minute advancements in surveillance
technology can, to some civil libertarians, take on the appearance of a
runaway bullet train. As Ross Anderson, professor of security
engineering at the University of Cambridge, warns, “We need to be
thinking ahead to the next 20 years. Because that’s when you’ll have
augmented reality, an Oculus Rift 2.0, with at least 8,000 pixels per
inch. So, sitting in the back of a lecture hall, you can read the text
on a lecturer’s phone. At the same time, the one hundred CCTVs in that
lecture hall will be able to see the password you’re punching into your
phone.”
Even Huxley, whose masterwork presents a forbidding view of a
hyper-industrialized London in the year 2540, didn’t conceive of a world
so acutely visualized that our most intimate secrets can’t always be
concealed. Where would that leave us? On the one hand, it stretches
credulity to imagine the willful suppression of such tools. Says David
Anderson, a London barrister who spent six years as the government’s
independent reviewer of counterterrorism legislation, “Either you think
technology has presented us with strong powers that the government
should use with equally strong safeguards, or you believe this
technology is so scary we should pretend it’s not there. And I’m firmly
in the first category—not because I say government is to be trusted, but
instead because in a mature democracy such as this one, we’re capable
of constructing safeguards that are good enough for the benefits to
outweigh the disadvantages.”
On the other hand, allowing such technological progress to find its
way into a largely unregulated marketplace seems equally imprudent.
Jameel Jaffer, the founding director of Columbia University’s Knight
First Amendment Institute, says, “I do think that we live increasingly
recorded and tracked lives. And I also think we’re only starting to
grapple with the implications of that, so before we adopt new
technologies or before we permit new surveillance forms to entrench
themselves in our societies, we should think about what the long-term
implications of those surveillance technologies will be.”
How to craft such judgments? Endeavoring to do so is particularly
nettlesome when a breakthrough occurs that explodes our notion of how we
can view the world. In fact, a game changer of this sort has already
emerged. The technology in question can monitor the Earth’s entire
landmass every single day. It’s the brainchild of a San Francisco–based
company called Planet, founded by three idealistic former NASA
scientists named Will Marshall, Robbie Schingler, and Chris Boshuizen.
Their headquarters resides in an unprepossessing warehouse in the
gritty South of Market neighborhood. The tableau inside is textbook
Silicon Valley: more than 200, mostly young techies in aggressively
casual dress hunched silently over their keyboards in an open work
space, aside from a few conference rooms named after some of the
company’s heroes—among them, Galileo, Gandhi, and Al Gore. I sat in one
of them overlooking the upscale employee cafeteria, where lunch would
later be followed by a happy hour of Napa wines and California
microbrews.
CARGO
3
Locating nuclear material
Seaports handle roughly 80 percent of worldwide trade by volume and play
a vital role in border security. In a pilot program at the Port of Boston,
scientists and engineers have designed an advanced scanner
that can identify the molecular makeup of substances
with far more specificity than ever before,
quickly differentiating, for example,
between salt and cocaine.
As the 3-D model is being created, a detector
scans the cargo for neutrons, produced when
x-rays interact with nuclear material. When
the data are combined with the 3-D model, an
operator can pinpoint the location of any
nuclear contraband.
D
Nuclear
isotope
Neutrons
Photon
When photons strike
nuclear material, neutrons
radiate outward.
Nuclear material
detected
Suspected
contraband
How it works
Suspected
contraband
1
Creating a 3-D model
A scanner bombards a truck and
its cargo with high-energy x-rays.
Sensors then measure for back-
scatter radiation (see “Imaging With
X-Rays,” below) to create a 3-D
model. The truck and its contents
are identified by four categories
(below) based on average atomic
number (the number of protons).
A
A
To avoid harmful
doses of radiation,
the driver pulls into
the scanner, parks,
and exits before
the truck is sent
through the system.
B
B
D
C
B
D
Density of material
D
High
Low
30+
High
Zinc and heavier
D
18-29
Atomic
number
Argon to copper
9-17
Fluorine to chlorine
1-8
Hydrogen to oxygen
Low
2
Hunting for contraband
Algorithms then analyze the 3-D
model for atomic numbers and
densities that could indicate contraband,
such as explosives and drugs. Suspicious material is further scanned by
a detector that measures specific
combinations of elements based on
how much energy they release.
Energy from nuclear fluorescence
SALT
COCAINE
Lead
6 Megaelectron volts
Carbon
Iron
3
C
Aluminum
NaCl
C17H21NO4
0
Imaging with X-Rays
Transmission x-ray imaging
High-energy backscatter imaging
X-ray
photon
X-ray photons are sent
through an object. Its density
is determined by measuring
the number of photons that
successfully pass through it.
Higher energy x-ray photons are
deflected, or backscattered, by the
object’s electrons and nuclei. The
results can be used to determine the
object’s density and its atomic number.
Electron backscatter
Marshall and Schingler joined me. The former is a lanky Brit with
wire-frame glasses; the latter, a broad-shouldered and easygoing
Californian. Both are 39 and seemed fully recovered from their dinner
the previous evening to celebrate the fifth anniversary of when they
started working full time at Planet. At NASA they had been captivated by
the idea of taking pictures from space, especially of Earth—and for
reasons that were humanitarian rather than science based.
They experimented by launching ordinary smartphones into orbit,
confirming that a relatively inexpensive camera could function in outer
space. “We thought, What could we do with those images?” Schingler said.
“How can we use these things for the benefit of humanity? List the
world’s problems: poverty, housing, malnutrition, deforestation. All of
these problems are more easily addressed if you have more up-to-date
information about our planet. Like you wake up in a few years and you
find there’s a hole in the Amazon forest. What if we could have supplied
information about this more rapidly to the Brazilian government?”
In storybook fashion, Marshall and Schingler developed their first
model in a garage in Silicon Valley. The idea was to design a relatively
low-cost, shoe box–size satellite to minimize the military-scale
budgets often required for designing such technology—and then, as
Marshall told me, “to launch the largest constellation of satellites in
human history.” By deploying many such devices, the company would be
able to see daily changes on the Earth’s surface in totality.
In 2013 they launched their first satellites and received their first
photographs, which provided a far more dynamic look at life around the
world than previous global mapping imagery. “The thing that surprised us
most,” said Marshall, “is that almost every picture that came down
showed how the Earth was changing. Fields were reshaped. Rivers moved.
Trees were taken down. Buildings went up. Seeing all of this completely
changes our concept of the planet as being static. And instead of just
having a figure about how much a country has been deforested, people can
now be motivated by pictures that show the deforestation taking place.”
Today Planet has more than 200 satellites in orbit, with about 150 it
calls Doves that can image every bit of land every day when conditions
are right. Planet has ground stations as far away as Iceland and
Antarctica. Its clients are just as varied. The company works with the
Amazon Conservation Association to track deforestation in Peru. It has
provided images to Amnesty International that document attacks on
Rohingya villages by security forces in Myanmar. At the Middlebury
Institute’s Center for Nonproliferation Studies, recurring global
imaging helps the think tank watch for the sudden appearance of a
missile test site in Iran or North Korea. And when USA Today and
other publications wanted an aerial image of the Shayrat air base in
Syria before and after it was bombed by the U.S. military last April in
retaliation for a chemical attack on a rebel-held Syrian town, the news
organizations knew whom to call.
Those are pro bono clients. Its paying customers include Orbital
Insight, a Silicon Valley–based geo-spatial analytics firm that
interprets data from satellite imagery. With such visuals, Orbital
Insight can track the development of road or building construction in
South America, the expansion of illegal palm oil plantations in Africa,
and crop yields in Asia. In the company’s conference room, James
Crawford, the chief executive, opened his laptop and showed me aerial
views of Chinese oil tanks, with their floating lids indicating they
were about three-quarters full. “Hedge funds, banks, and oil companies
themselves know what’s in their tanks,” he said with a sly grin, “but
not in others’, so temporal resolution is extremely important.”
Crawford’s firm also employs Planet’s optical might to charitable ends.
For example, it conducts poverty surveys in Mexico for the World Bank,
using building heights and car densities as proxies for economic
well-being.
Meanwhile, Planet’s marketing team spends its days gazing at
photographs, imagining an interested party somewhere out there. An
insurance company wanting to track flood damage to homes in the Midwest.
A researcher in Norway seeking evidence of glaciers eroding. But what
about … a dictator wishing to hunt down a roving dissident army?
Here is where Planet’s own ethical guidelines would come into play.
Not only could it refuse to work with a client having malevolent
motives, but it also doesn’t allow customers to stake a sole proprietary
claim over the images they buy. The other significant constraint is
technological. Planet’s surveillance of the world at a resolution of 10
feet is sufficient to discern the grainy outline of a single truck but
not the contours of a human. Resolution-wise, the current state of the
art of one foot is supplied by another satellite imaging company,
DigitalGlobe. But for now, only Planet, with its formidable satellite
deployment, is capable of providing daily imagery of Earth’s entire
landmass. “We’ve run the proverbial four-minute mile,” Marshall said.
“Simply knowing it’s possible doesn’t make it any easier.”
Still, Planet has blazed a trail. Others someday will follow it. When
they do, how will they harness the power to see so much of the globe,
every single day? Will their aims be as benevolent as those of Planet?
Will they try to perfect satellite photography that’s higher in
resolution and thus in invasiveness? Marshall doesn’t see how this is
possible. “To identify a person from 300 miles away, you’d need a camera
the size of a bus,” he told me. And in any event, he added, an American
firm seeking to accomplish that would encounter considerable federal
regulatory hurdles.
Of course, regulations can be changed. So can the boundaries of our
technological limits. Just a year or two ago, the owner of the largest
number of functioning satellites in orbit was the U.S. government, with
roughly 170. Now Planet prevails over the heavens in greater numbers
than the most powerful nation on Earth.
Who is next in line to be the Biggest Brother?
On a bracing autumn evening in San Francisco, I returned to
Planet to see the world through its all-encompassing lens. More than a
dozen clients would be there to show off how they’re using satellite
imagery—what it meant, in essence, to see the world as it’s changing.
I zigzagged among semicircles of techies gathered raptly around
monitors. Everywhere I looked, the world came into view. I saw, in the
Brazilian state of Pará, the dark green stretches of the Amazon jungle
flash red, prompting automatic emails to the landowners: Warning, someone is deforesting your land! I
saw the Port of Singapore teem with shipping activity. I saw the
croplands of southern Alberta, Canada, in a state of flagging health. I
saw an entire network of new roads in war-wracked Aleppo, Syria—and for
that matter, a new obstruction in one of those roads, possibly a crater
from a bomb attack. I saw oil well pads in Siberia—17 percent more than
in the previous year, a surprising sign of stepped-up production that
seemed likely to prompt frantic reassessments in the world’s oil and gas
markets.
A tall young man named John Goolgasian wanted to show me how his less
than year-old Virginia-based outfit called GeoSpark Analytics was
matching crime data with Planet images. After a few clicks, we were
staring at neighborhoods in Nigeria that had been overtaken by the
extremist group Boko Haram. More clicks and the crescent-shaped
coastline that materialized was one I’d visited nine years before:
Mogadishu, Somalia, bearing fresh scars from that week’s deadly bomb
attacks by al Shabaab. A few more clicks and the image was even more
familiar: my neighborhood in Washington, D.C.—specifically, a few blocks
from my house, where a burglary report had just been called in.
Planet’s hosts halted the show-and-tell to say a few words. Andy
Wild, the chief revenue officer, spoke of the new frontier in a slightly
quavering voice. It was one thing to achieve, as Wild put it, “a daily
cadence of the entire landmass of the Earth.” Now the custodians of this
technology had to “turn it into outcomes.” Tom Barton, the chief
operating officer, said, “I hope one year from now, we’re here saying,
‘Holy shit, we really did change the world.’ ”
I was pondering the implications of this when a young woman showed me
what was on her laptop. Her name was Annie Neligh, an Air Force veteran
who now leads “customer solutions engineering” at Planet. One of
Neligh’s customers needing a solution was a Texas-based insurance
company. The company suspected that it was renewing insurance policies
for homeowners who weren’t disclosing that they’d installed swimming
pools—a 40 percent loss on each policy for the company. So it had asked
Planet to provide satellite imagery of homes in Plano, Texas.
Neligh showed me what she’d found. Looking at a neighborhood of 1,500
properties, we could clearly see the shimmering shapes of 520 small
bodies of water—a proportion far in excess of what the insurance
company’s customers had claimed. Neligh shrugged and offered a thin
smile. “People lie, you know,” she said.
Now her client had the truth. What would it do with this information?
Conduct a surprise raid on the somnolent hamlets of Plano? Jack up
premiums? Order images that might show construction crews installing new
Jacuzzis and Spanish tile roofs? The future is here, and in it, truth
is more than a kindly educator. It is a weapon—against timber poachers
and burglars and mad bombers and acts of God, but also against the
lesser angels of our nature. People lie, you know. The age of
transparency is upon us.
As I walked back to my hotel, I thought about the two moped riders in
Islington, as I often had in the months since I surveilled them. I
wondered if they had been arrested. I wondered if they were guilty of
anything at all, apart from the crime of being conspicuously interesting
on an otherwise dull morning. I wondered if they would ever know that
unseen strangers had been watching them, just as a stranger might now be
watching me—someone somewhere squinting into a CCTV monitor at the
spectacle of a lone figure walking fast on a dark and otherwise vacant
street on a chilly night without a coat on, as if in flight from
something.
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