Little Camera is Watching

Recently, I purchase a dash-cam. I bought it because I had several near accidents with vehicles running red lights and stop signs, and because I was curious – and because it was on sale. It was easy to install and I have only twice looked at any of the videos that it has recorded. For the most part, I forget about it while I am driving. I remember it, however, when I see poor driving.

I think about how my driving is being captured on other people’s dash-cams. While this has changed my driving and, for the most part, I consider myself a conservative and safe driver, I wonder if people would drive differently if they thought that recordings of their driving might turn up online, at the police department, or in other ways. Would some of us slow down?  Would some of us put on a show?

Google introduced Google Glass in 2013 and more recently Google Clip. Both are, for lack of a better term, person cams. They serve the same basic function as my dash-cam, but for human beings. They are a civilian version of the body cams that some police wear.

As you move through your day, people with whom you interact might be recording everything you do and say. The ubiquity of cell phones has that potential as well. Does that change anything?

Let’s try a thought experiment: what if people at your work were recording you? What if, as you dealt with co-workers, clients, customers, and others, someone was secretly recording? How would that affect you? Would it change your behavior?

There are two questions here: one is obvious: how would the chance of being recorded affect one’s behavior? The second is what happens to that recording?

We act differently when there is a camera watching us. Our awareness that our actions will be seen by others, be more “permanent, ” and perhaps be critiqued makes us self-conscious. Our audience changes from known to unknown.

In the world of George Orwell’s 1984, Big Brother looked into the lives of his citizens through a kind of television set. Privacy was almost impossible. The state watched, judged, and punished. While we have no centralized eye in the sky, the idea that an audience is viewing what you are doing in your car, job, or anywhere is unnerving and increasingly likely.

The obvious retort is that, if you have nothing to hide, what is the big deal? Who cares if my actions go viral on Twitter? While there is value in this debate, it is moot. Video of people from cameras meant for security and all manner of personal cams are now out there. It doesn’t matter if you are behaving well or not. The world may see you and that, by itself may be a punishment.

Because the audience may not have context for your actions. The world may not know what your co-worker said to you just a few minutes before you lost your temper. The world may not see the crying person just off the screen. The world may only see the bad lane change, but may not the sick child in the backseat.

Pulling out your cell phone to record an incident is a way to both deescalate and intensify a situation. If you are going to cut in line, I am going to record you doing it and post it. You parked badly; I am going to shame you online. Just like in 1984, fear and shaming do not make a caring community. They do keep people in line.

So how do we deal with the proliferation of cameras and the recordings they produce? First, we increase our civility in public. There is nothing wrong with that. Beating people is wrong regardless of context. Second, we increase our awareness of the presence of cameras. We point them out and notice them wherever we are. If we are being watched, we should be aware of it. Third, we ask questions. Why are cameras here? Who sees the recordings? What is done with those recordings? Who has access to them and for what purposes? We add context wherever possible. If a camera appears, I may need to explain what is going on in more detail. I may need to directly address the camera. I need to think about my new audiences.

I never want to be on a reality TV show, but now we all may have our fifteen minutes of shame and blame. The camera genie is not going back into the bottle. But we must remember that the view into the bottle is often incomplete.