John Diaz
Sunday, August 12, 2007
TECHNOLOGY is not solely to blame for the erosion of privacy in this nation.
Government and businesses have been trying to keep track of you and your habits
since the days of the quill pen.
But the ability to blend vast databases containing personal information -- and
the sophistication of tracking devices that can announce your presence along
with myriad vital statistics when you cross a bridge or enter a room -- have
brought Americans to a crossroads.
Do we shrug and concede that privacy is lost -- "get over it," as one titan of
tech declared so bluntly? Or do we look for ways to draw the line, to identify
means and places where employers and governments should not dare to tread?
One such place: Our bodies.
Life has begun to imitate art -- as in the futuristic film "Minority Report" --
with the refinement of toothpick-thick microchips that can be implanted in your
arm and packed with loads of personally identifiable information that can be
beamed to the world.
These radio-frequency identification (RFID) devices -- or "talking bar codes" --
amount to miniature antennas that transmit the types of information that might
otherwise be held on a swipe card.
Even if you've shrugged through the debates about warrantless wiretapping and
said "what the heck" at the prospect that everything from your spending habits
to your Web site travels are being compiled and crunched for commercial
purposes, you might think twice about letting your employer insert a microchip
under your skin as a condition of getting a job.
As of today, it is both a technical and a legal possibility.
Just last year, a Cincinnati-based provider of video-surveillance equipment
inserted glass-encapsulated microchips into the arms of two employees to
increase the level of security to the company's datacenter.
Those two workers volunteered, but it's not hard to imagine the lightbulbs going
off in Corporate America. Is Joe really making a sales call or is he taking in a
baseball game at AT&T Park? How many smoke breaks is Mary taking?
Amazingly, there is no California law against "chipping" workers as a condition
of employment. Even more incredible -- outrageous, really -- is the resistance
state Sen. Joe Simitian, D-Palo Alto, has encountered in trying to pass
legislation (SB362) that would prevent an employer or anyone else, including
government, from coercing an individual to accept a microchip implant.
Simitian's bill cleared the Senate on a 25-11 vote, despite continued
apprehensions from the American Electronics Association, which fears that even
this most reasonable checkpoint on RFIDs might somehow "demonize" the
technology. The industry group has remained neutral on SB362.
As with any technology, an RFID implant can be used for good or ill. RFID chips
have become the ticket to access in VIP lounges in certain trendy clubs from
Barcelona, Spain, to Miami Beach. A patron can even buy a round of drinks
without having to even roll up his sleeves, let alone reach for his wallet. What
Simitian is trying to do is ensure that it is voluntary and subjected to basic
privacy safeguards.
Some folks may enjoy the convenience or perhaps the status of having an embedded
microchip that whisks them through lines. But the ease of the "chipped" is
accompanied by a potential for abuse by the "chippers" -- companies or
governments that want to keep track of people. The technology has not yet
reached the point where it can pinpoint an individual's precise location in real
time, but that day is coming.
The issue is preservation of choice.
"I may not think my house is going to be robbed when I leave in the morning, but
I lock the door anyway," Simitian said. "I want the option to lock the door."
While nothing is as intrusive as an implant, some of the same principles about
privacy and potential misuse apply to RFID in other forms. Simitian is also
pushing sensible legislation to restrict the use of RFIDs in driver's licenses,
student cards and other government-issued badges until better privacy-protection
standards can be developed.
One of the concerns with such implants is that the information could be cloned
-- or "spoofed" -- by someone with a receiver and malicious intent.
Microchips have plenty of beneficial purposes in society. They can get you
through the toll plaza without braking, they can help locate your lost dog, they
can speed you through the checkout line with a "contactless" credit card.
This isn't about "demonizing" a technology. It's about using it judiciously. The
microchip in your arm -- unlike the toll transmitter on your windshield or the
credit card in your wallet -- can't be put away in a vault or tossed out easily.
It's there, radiating your identity and perhaps much more, for 10-15 years
unless you have it removed at great pain and expense -- assuming your government
or employer allows you to do so.
John Diaz is the Chronicle's editorial page editor
© 2007 Hearst
Communications Inc.