Talk about good timing. In a summer during which the news
has been filled with stories of the NSA’s capabilities to spy on Americans and
the man who leaked the information is forced to flee the country for doing so, the exact
nature of who can know what about us is fresh in the public consciousness.
Fortuitously, here's a new documentary about who can access digital information
called Terms and Conditions May Apply.
Director Cullen Hoback, whose last doc looked at live-action role players, has
pulled together a clear-eyed primer on what information companies allow
themselves to collect and store indefinitely, an ability we grant each and
every time we click "Agree" to use an app or even simply hit return
in a search bar. I'd say this brisk, informative documentary is not for
paranoid people. But after watching it, they wouldn't be paranoid any more.
They'd know they're onto something.
It's a documentary that features not one new or startling
fact. Rather, it gets its ability to startle out of a collection of bits and
pieces of news and information that have dribbled out over the past dozen years
or so that take on sharper meaning when viewed in totality. Run back to back,
it's easy to be freshly troubled by how little "Privacy Policies"
protect users, and how much those tiny-print documents with the check box at
the bottom are used to grant companies enormous leeway in using data collected
in the course of browsing, uploading, chatting, emailing, and tweeting. The
film finds personal anecdotes about people with innocuous digital moments
twisted: a writer for the murder-solving procedural Cold Case whose job-related search terms sure look suspicious, a
seventh grader’s Facebook message of concern for the president that was misread
by the Secret Service, and a tourist whose tweet using the word
"destroy" in the party sense finds him in trouble with immigration.
Human interest stories aside, the strength of the film sits
squarely in the accumulation of cold hard facts. Interviews with journalists,
lawyers, tech writers, analysts, and experts of one kind or another, as well as
news footage and the requisite cheeky appropriations of movie and TV clips,
outline the insidious creep of surveillance in modern society. The more
technology evolves to connect, collaborate, and communicate with speeds ever
faster and devices ever smaller, the more the potential for uses and abuses.
The argument is tracked back politically and economically to the Patriot Act.
We’re shown footage of George W. Bush proudly announcing new laws to allow law
enforcement easy and total access to any kind of communications "used by
terrorists." Unspoken in his statement is the not-insignificant fact that
people who aren't terrorists tend to use email and cell phones too. The film
goes on to chart the continued refinement of these practices which most
certainly did not end when the public discovered them or when the presidential
administrations changed.
Hoback, in a trim 79-minute runtime, isn't content to lay
the blame entirely on the Patriot Act, looking at the surveillance industry and
societal shifts as well as base political motives. The film is no screed - it
pulls footage from both Fox News and MSNBC
- in the way the evidence is displayed. It merely collects information and
sorts through what it finds pertinent, drawing a path from the dawn of the
Internet until now that seems to be heading in a quietly ominous direction for personal
privacy. Rather than a heated argument, the damning evidence against
governmental and corporate espionage, spying all Internet users are to some extent
complicit in on some level, adds up only to a simple request to those institutions
that track our every digital move: Can you please stop?
No comments:
Post a Comment