As RFID technology rolls out, promising vast benefits for retailers, surveillance honchos everywhere are drooling.
Tiny chips and antennae attached to all products in stores? Why?
Ostensibly to enable automatic inventory and even automatic re-ordering.
And here I thought that cash registers which are actually computers could relay inventory info to store buyers without a hitch.
Of course, if the RFID tags are beefed up a little, they can work AFTER the customer leaves the store and takes his purchases home.
In fact, an AP story carries this further: “Homes equipped with receiver-readers could alert customers when they are running low on orange juice or their prescription for heart medicine is about to expire. Hooked up to a national network like the Internet, the at-home devices could also provide details to marketers about a family’s eating and hygienic habits.”
Just what I’ve always wanted.
I thought people could tell when orange juice was running low by looking at the bottle.
And then there is always this: “Hello. I’m Buddy, the medical advisor. Just wanted to let you know that your bottle of Prozac is empty. This is my second message. If you don’t order a re-fill today, a US Public Health Service worker will visit you with a search warrant.”
How about a list of markers that inform government officials that you are not a regular sort of person? Buys organic produce. Buys herbs. Buys books on politics. Buys a gun. Buys a comic book about a Matrix. Does not buy sufficient food to survive—may be growing own food.
By organizing spread sheets on buying habits of individuals, a profile can be assembled and a judgement rendered. “Resident of 167 Allen St. is a suspect individual.”
Or lists of people who belong to activist organizations could be obtained. Then they could be observed vis-à-vis their overall buying habits, and a profile of “a possibly dangerous person” could be built and applied to citizens who do not belong to such groups.
All sorts of fancy uses RFID could be put to.
Reminds me of the sophisticated piece of software called PROMIS, invented by the Inslaw company and stolen by the US Dept. of Justice. One of many uses of PROMIS: Track the work of a defense lawyer over a range of his cases. See how often he plea bargains, and at what point in a legal proceeding he tends to go for a plea—enabling prosecutors to gauge how to deal with this lawyer during a trial.
The enemy of all these systems is the individual who is unpredictable.
So he becomes an RFID target by dint of the fact that his buying patterns are jagged and seemingly random.
“Individual lives at 473 Castle Drive. Upscale neighborhood. Does not buy at a level that suits his income status. Check his bank records.”
Averages and patterns become the basis for surveillance.
Then one day we get a story in the press about a man who was stopped from committing a crime because his patterns had raised a red flag. The man was visited, and a bomb was found in his garage. (Of course, the bomb was planted there.) Officials hail the arrest as a landmark. Neighbors are interviewed on FOX. They talk about how their children’s lives were saved by the swift arrest. The mayor of the town expresses deep gratitude.
The case becomes a featured story in a school textbook, and kiddies from Maine to Arizona learn about a system that helps everyone.
An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.
Science fiction?
If, 40 years ago, someone had told you that one day you would own something called a computer and that every keystroke you made could be observed from a distant point...