Archive for October, 2017

A Reasonable Expectation of Privacy

Thursday, October 5th, 2017

If, without breaking any property laws, one person is able to easily observe another, the latter has no right to claim an expectation of privacy. When an individual can be seen by anyone, they should assume that they could be seen by everyone. A reasonable expectation of privacy can be assumed only when a physical transgression is required for information to be obtained. If someone must trespass or otherwise violate property rights in order to conduct surveillance, then a general expectation of privacy is reasonable. This is because, in the physical world, an underlying reason for privacy is a concern for bodily security. A stalker isn’t just a stalker, they are also a potential assailant or even murderer. It is a stalker’s inclination (if not actual ability) to penetrate spaces that we thought were ours alone that disturbs us. Privacy in the virtual realm lacks the same justification. Data collection on the Internet severs the connection between potential violence and the acquisition of information. By its nature, virtual surveillance is less physically invasive and thus warrants a more limited expectation of privacy.

Leaving the personal domain of the home has always carried with it the presumption that an individual could be seen by the public. Historically, this may have meant that a handful of neighbors or acquaintances might be aware of one’s movements. Today, it means that one might be under constant CCTV surveillance. Even though outcomes are different, privacy rights are no more infringed upon today than they were previously. In any public space, where one can be easily observed the reasonable expectation of privacy evaporates. Any non-invasive (purely sensory) observation that is conducted in public cannot constitute the violation of the surveilled individual’s privacy. No one has a right to monopolize their own image, or information about themselves that has been acquired in a non-invasive manner.

However, surveillance in the real world often requires the use of more invasive measures because the ability to physically intrude on one’s privacy necessitates an uncomfortable degree of geographic proximity. Suppose someone discovers themselves in the background of a photo taken at Grand Central Station. This picture was taken without their consent or knowledge, yet they likely wouldn’t feel as though their privacy had been violated. Many photographs are taken everyday in which strangers are unwitting subjects. Yet if they were to stumble upon another picture of themselves, taken as they slept in their bed, the reaction would likely be one of immense violation, if not outright fear. This photograph, unlike the other, implies physical vulnerability — the photographer was close enough that they either were trespassing or could have, had they chosen to. Invasions of privacy in the physical world carry with them the latent threat of physical violence. Thus a reasonable expectation of privacy exists in spaces where we are vulnerable or intimate and where access is restricted, such as the home or the bathroom.

Attempts to analogize the privacy protections that are warranted in the physical world to the digital realm necessarily lead to faulty conclusions. In the digital world, what constitutes a violation of privacy changes from physical intrusion and the specter of violence to the pure collection of information. Suppose a woman is browsing a website in the comfort of her own home. As the she uses the site, her behavior is tracked. Usage information, like the type of device she is using, the amount of time she spends on the site and her most frequently visited pages, is recorded in the background. If this type of information had been acquired by a person surreptitiously lurking behind her, having broken into her home and hidden in her closet, we could comfortably say the woman’s privacy had been invaded. However, as this data is collected digitally, the collection process is less invasive – no direct physical threat is posed to the subject of the surveillance.

Though she in her home, which in the case of physical surveillance would grant this woman a reasonable expectation of privacy, when she uses the Internet, her behavior can no longer be thought of as taking place within the privileged space of her domicile, but rather on the unrestricted web. Browsing the Internet should be understood as equivalent to strolling across the public square. Just as in the physical world, if an individual is in a public space, then passive observation is not an invasion of privacy, the same holds true on the Internet. It is the means of acquisition that constitutes the violation, not the information itself that is collected.

In the real world, difficulty of access is what underpins a reasonable expectation of privacy and the delineation between the public and private sphere is simply the threshold of one’s house. Digital surveillance affords no easy distinction, and because data collection on the Internet lacks the threat of violence, it is less invasive. We need to recalibrate our expectations and acknowledge that the Internet is public by default.

Margaret Cavendish and the Epistemology of Imperfect Instruments

Thursday, October 5th, 2017

 

Margaret Cavendish is skeptical of the bold assertion that there is scientific relevance in an imperceptible world that is not directly visible to the naked eye. Though the empirical evidence of modern science has sided with Robert Hooke, the epistemic thrust of her criticisms remains unresolved — when do instruments augment, rather than distort, the senses? How can claims about the unobservable be verified when verification relies on ‘unnatural’ devices, which, themselves, are potentially deceiving? And finally, more broadly, what knowledge is relevant and worthwhile to acquire?

Cavendish opens by grounding her argument in an appeal to expertise. She discusses the observations of artists — craftsmen who are employed for their ability to accurately depict reality — who “confess” the multitude of conflicting perspectives produced by factors such as lighting and positioning.[1] She suggests that as vision is a fallible sense, thus things may appear to contradict their true essence. So, if perception cannot be used to discriminate between truth and fiction, how can the actual form of objects be determined? Cavendish proceeds with a discussion of the utility of objects. She argues that because both knives and pins fulfill their function, their form must enable that function. The true shape of an object is revealed in its interactions with the world. A knife cuts because it holds an edge, just as a pin penetrates paper due to the sharpness of its point. For Cavendish, observations to the contrary provide a condemnation of tools rather than a refutation of her argument. She believes that the ‘imperfections’ made visible via instrumentation are introduced by the instruments themselves.

Cavendish is unconvinced by the tools that are supposed to augment the senses. She sees a “hermaphroditical” property of observations made via artificial means — the purity of nature perverted.[2] She poses the thought experiment of a woman drawn to the proportions as seen from a microscope. The image of a woman is seen through a “glass” and is distorted by “various refraction and reflexion,” resulting in a “monstrous” and false perception of the woman’s form. Here, observation mediated by an unnatural property, is deceiving.[3] This phenomenon leads Cavendish to believe that artificial aids cannot be used to understand nature. Only conclusions derived through the synthesis of un-aided observation and rational contemplation are credible. Though that transition to a more experimental science may seem inevitable in retrospect, during its nascent stages, it was similarly predicated upon belief — if not in God or scripture, than in the devices that acted as portals to worlds beyond the senses.

Cavendish is a peculiar scientific figure for her time, in that she was a woman. Her husband, the Duke of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, was a member of the Royal Society.[4] He was supportive of her work and his position afforded her certain privileges, such as becoming the only woman to attend one of their meetings.[5] Despite the gendered nature of science in England at the time and her perceived eccentricity for engaging in such a male-dominated activity, Cavendish did not shy away from intellectual confrontation. She clashed directly with members of the Royal Society, notably Robert Hooke. While not referenced by name in this passage, Hooke and his promotion of the microscope as a relevant scientific tool are the principle foils for Cavendish’s Observations Upon Experimental Philosophy. The examples she uses, such as the fly’s eyes, the point of a pin and a knife’s edge, are all directly pulled from Hooke’s work. And when she continues, discussing the “unprofitable” science done with microscopes, it is a clear jab at Hooke as he works on the dime of patrons of the Royal Society.[6] Embedded in her criticism of Hooke is the sincere belief that “better arts and studies” were being spurned for fanciful distractions.[7] With the experimental philosophy promoted by Hooke and enabled, in part, by the use of microscopes, Cavendish believed that too much emphasis was placed on seeing “exterior” phenomena rather than on understanding the manner by which things actually function.[8]

So what are the criteria that Cavendish uses to determine what makes knowledge worth acquiring? In the paragraph that follows the selected quotation, Cavendish enumerates the ways in which a science could be considered useful: from improving agriculture to increasing commerce, any tangible benefit to society is enough. Yet, from her perspective, no actionable information can be acquired by a microscope. For example, seeing what a louse looks like doesn’t help the beggar rid himself of lice.[9] Thus, the knowledge is useless. This helps contextualize her closing characterization of the sights seen by microscopes as merely “superficial wonders.”[10] Whether or not instruments do, in fact, allow the natural world to be perceived in a news ways — Cavendish clearly believed the latter — was irrelevant, as even if the images seen through a microscope were accurate, Cavendish did not think that they contributed to a productive society.

Cavendish’s critique of experimental philosophy demonstrates the type of epistemic tension that occurs when an old paradigm confronts a novel one. What instrumentation is credible? What types of knowledge are worth knowing? These questions are important. And even, while Cavendish’s skepticism has proven unfounded, her arguments, for the time, were nuanced and provocative.

 

[1] Margaret Cavendish, Observations Upon Experimental Philosophy (Cambridge: HS100 Editions, 2017), p. 5.

[2] Ibid., p. 4.

[3] Ibid., p. 5.

[4] Alex Csiszar, HS100 Lecture 7 (Sept. 21, 2015), Slide 13

[5] Ibid.

[6] Margaret Cavendish, Observations Upon Experimental Philosophy,  p.4

[7] Ibid., p. 5.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ibid., p. 6.

[10] Ibid., p. 5.