Free Speech

When the government can see everything: How one company – Palantir – is mapping the nation’s data

Wed, 27 Aug 2025 07:03:35 -0500

Palantir's technology allows government agencies to connect the dots about individuals. Yuichiro Chino/Moment via Getty Images

When the U.S. government signs contracts with private technology companies, the fine print rarely reaches the public. Palantir Technologies, however, has attracted more and more attention over the past decade because of the size and scope of its contracts with the government.

Palantir’s two main platforms are Foundry and Gotham. Each does different things. Foundry is used by corporations in the private sector to help with global operations. Gotham is marketed as an “operating system for global decision making” and is primarily used by governments.

I am a researcher who studies the intersection of data governance, digital technologies and the U.S. federal government. I’m observing how the government is increasingly pulling together data from various sources, and the political and social consequences of combining those data sources. Palantir’s work with the federal government using the Gotham platform is amplifying this process.

Gotham is an investigative platform built for police, national security agencies, public health departments and other state clients. Its purpose is deceptively simple: take whatever data an agency already has, break it down into its smallest components and then connect the dots. Gotham is not simply a database. It takes fragmented data, scattered across various agencies and stored in different formats, and transforms it into a unified, searchable web.

The stakes are high with Palantir’s Gotham platform. The software enables law enforcement and government analysts to connect vast, disparate datasets, build intelligence profiles and search for individuals based on characteristics as granular as a tattoo or an immigration status. It transforms historically static records – think department of motor vehicles files, police reports and subpoenaed social media data like location history and private messages – into a fluid web of intelligence and surveillance.

These departments and agencies use Palantir’s platform to assemble detailed profiles of individuals, mapping their social networks, tracking their movements, identifying their physical characteristics and reviewing their criminal history. This can involve mapping a suspected gang member’s network using arrest logs and license plate reader data, or flagging individuals in a specific region with a particular immigration status.

The efficiency the platform enables is undeniable. For investigators, what once required weeks of cross-checking siloed systems can now be done in hours or less. But by scaling up the government’s investigative capacity, Gotham also alters the relationship between the state and the people it governs.

The U.S. Department of Homeland Security uses Palantir’s technology to support its investigations. AP Photo/Jose Luis Magana

Shifting the balance of power

The political ramifications of Palantir’s rise come into focus when you consider its influence and reach across the government. U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement alone has spent more than US$200 million on Palantir contracts, relying on the software to run its Investigative Case Management system and to integrate travel histories, visa records, biometric data and social media data.

The Department of Defense has awarded Palantir billion-dollar contracts to support battlefield intelligence and AI-driven analysis. Even domestic agencies like the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Internal Revenue Service, and local police departments like the New York Police Department, have contracted with Palantir for data integration projects.

These integrations mean that Palantir is not just a vendor of software; it is becoming a partner in how the federal government organizes and acts on information. That creates a kind of dependency. The same private company helps define how investigations are conducted, how targets are prioritized, how algorithms work and how decisions are justified.

Because Gotham is proprietary, the public, and even elected officials, cannot see how its algorithms weigh certain data points or why they highlight certain connections. Yet, the conclusions it generates can have life-altering consequences: inclusion on a deportation list or identification as a security risk. The opacity makes democratic oversight difficult, and the system’s broad scope and wide deployment means that mistakes or biases can scale up rapidly to affect many people.

Beyond law enforcement

Supporters of Palantir’s work argue that it modernizes outdated government IT systems, bringing them closer to the kind of integrated analytics that are routine in the private sector. However, the political and social stakes are different in public governance. Centralized, attribute-based searching, whether by location, immigration status, tattoos or affiliations, creates the capacity for mass profiling.

In the wrong hands, or even in well-intentioned hands under shifting political conditions, this kind of system could normalize surveillance of entire communities. And the criteria that trigger scrutiny today could be expanded tomorrow.

U.S. history provides warning examples: The mass surveillance of Muslim communities after 9/11, the targeting of civil rights activists in the 1960s and the monitoring of anti-war protesters during the Vietnam era are just a few.

Gotham’s capabilities may enable government agencies to carry out similar operations on a much larger scale and at a faster pace. And once some form of data integration infrastructure exists, its uses tend to expand, often into areas far from its original mandate.

A broader shift in governance

The deeper story here isn’t just that the government is collecting more data. It’s that the structure of governance is changing into a model where decision-making is increasingly influenced by what integrated data platforms reveal. In a pre-Gotham era, putting someone under suspicion of wrongdoing might have required specific evidence linked to an event or witness account. In a Gotham-enabled system, suspicion can stem from patterns in the data – patterns whose importance is defined by proprietary algorithms.

This level of data integration means that government officials can use potential future risks to justify present action. The predictive turn in governance aligns with a broader shift toward what some scholars call “preemptive security.” It is a logic that can erode traditional legal safeguards that require proof before punishment.

This short documentary about Palantir includes a former employee expressing concern about how algorithms are transforming government.

The stakes for democracy

The partnership between Palantir and the federal government raises fundamental questions about accountability in a data-driven state. Who decides how these tools are used? Who can challenge a decision that was made by software, especially if that software is proprietary?

Without clear rules and independent oversight, there is a risk that Palantir’s technology becomes normalized as a default mode of governance. They could be used not only to track suspected criminals or terrorists but also to manage migration flows, monitor and suppress protests, and enforce public health measures. The concern is not that these data integration capabilities exist, but that government agencies could use them in ways that undermine civil liberties without public consent.

Once put in use, such systems are hard to dismantle. They create new expectations for speed and efficiency in law enforcement, making it politically costly to revert to slower, more manual processes. That inertia can lock in not only the technology but also the expanded scope of surveillance it enables.

Choosing the future

As Palantir deepens its government partnerships, the issues its technology raises go beyond questions of cost or efficiency. There are civil liberties implications and the potential for abuse. Will strong legal safeguards and transparent oversight constrain these tools for integrated data analysis? The answer is likely to depend on political will as much as technical design.

Ultimately, Palantir’s Gotham is more than just software. It represents how modern governance might function: through data, connections, continuous monitoring and control. The decisions made about its use today are likely to shape the balance between security and freedom for decades to come.

Nicole M. Bennett is affiliated with the Center for Refugee Studies at Indiana University.

New age-gating laws aimed at making the internet safer actually threaten free speech

Mon, 25 Aug 2025 13:06:42 -0500

The United Kingdom recently launched a broad system of age verification that requires any platforms that host pornography or other “harmful” content to ensure their users are 18 or older.

Around the world, large swathes of the open web are being replaced by walled gardens. In June, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of Texas’s age restriction law. Twenty-one other states have similar laws in place, and more have been proposed.

Australia restricts young people’s access not just to specific websites, but to all social media, and it will soon extend this to search engines.

In Canada, Bill S-209, which would require age verification for adult websites, could soon become law. It is at the reporting stage in Parliament, the final stage before it comes to a vote.

The spread of these age-gating laws is a disaster for free speech, privacy and the future of the internet itself. It is not too late to take a stand against them.

CBC News reports on internet age restrictions.

Think about the children

The basic purpose of these laws is admirable enough. We all want to protect children from harm. But we need to ask two questions. First, do they actually accomplish their goal? And second, do the benefits of these laws outweigh the costs?

We should be clear on one thing at the outset. Proponents of the laws sometimes talk about protecting children from exploitation. But age-gating does nothing to address the problem of child pornography. It restricts access based on the age of the user, not the age of the person depicted. And almost all child-abuse material is already on the dark web or on other sites that do not adhere to any laws.

When it comes to restricting young people’s access, the reality is that age gates are easily bypassed by a determined user. A recent Australian survey showed that almost a quarter of teens routinely get around age barriers.

The simplest circumvention method is through the use of a virtual private network to hide a user’s location. These are easy to set up and many are free. However, young people can also, depending on the verification technology being used, upload an adult’s credentials or use simple tricks to fool facial recognition systems.

A massive cost

Even if some young people are circumventing the blocks, many are not, and so age verification will reduce the exposure some young people have to banned material. But this modest victory comes at a massive cost.

First of all, these laws place the burden on adults who are trying to access material they have a right to see. We are, in the name of protecting children, sleepwalking into a dystopian vision of the internet where every user must flash their papers before being allowed to go online.

To verify their age, people have to upload photos of their government-issued identification without knowing if their data is secure. Often, it won’t be.

One major age-verification service left users’ data, including their legal identification, exposed for more than a year.

Second, these laws define harmful material so vaguely that it is impossible for content producers to predict when they will fall afoul of them. This affects not just the producers of explicit content, but the internet as a whole. Smaller websites in particular cannot afford to hire lawyers to vet all of their content, or to fight for their rights if they’re charged.

It’s easier just to block access to everyone in an age-gated jurisdiction, which many sites have already started doing, or to shut down entirely.

Third, the laws make the state the arbiter of what young people can read and see. But what is appropriate to a particular user is highly individual. It depends on their age and their emotional maturity. And inevitably, censorship gives governments the power to impose their own moral agendas.

Not surprisingly, some American states have used their age-gate laws to censor material related to abortion, sexual health and LGBTQ identity.

Russell Vought, at the time the vice president of a conservative lobbying organization and currently the head of the U.S. Office of Management and Budget, was caught last year on a hidden camera admitting that age-verification laws were meant as a move towards banning pornography altogether.

In 1997, the U.S. Supreme Court found an early age-restriction law, the Communications Decency Act, unconstitutional. Explaining the court’s unanimous decision, Justice John Paul Stevens wrote that the law “threaten[ed] to torch a large segment of the internet community” and declared that “the interest in encouraging freedom of expression in a democratic society outweighs any theoretical but unproven benefit of censorship.”

Though a more conservative Supreme Court has set aside this precedent, Stevens’ prescient words remain as true today as ever.

Parental involvement

There is a better alternative to age-gating, one that places the power where it belongs: in the hands of parents. Many devices, including those made by Apple and Google, already offer parental controls. While not perfect, they are both less intrusive and harder to circumvent than online age verification systems.

These measures place data security in the hands of a small number of trusted companies and remove the need for constant age verification when accessing different websites. These controls could be mandatory for all mobile devices and computer operating systems.

This is a crucial moment for the internet. The walls are coming up fast, and if we do not stop them now, they will be hard to tear down.

Neil McArthur does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Protestant ideas shaped Americans’ support for birth control – and the Supreme Court ruling protecting a husband and wife’s right to contraception

Fri, 15 Aug 2025 07:39:32 -0500

Sixty years ago, the Supreme Court ruled that married couples have a constitutional right to use contraception. Griswold v. Connecticut, decided in 1965, made it illegal for states to outlaw birth control for spouses – a right that would not be extended to single people until 1972.

Griswold granted married couples this right on the grounds of privacy. Though the Constitution does not specifically name an explicit right to privacy, justices argued that it could be inferred from several amendments – an idea cited in later rulings on abortion and LGBTQ+ rights.

According to the Griswold ruling, the right of privacy within marriage was “older than the Bill of Rights – older than our political parties, older than our school system.”

“Marriage is a coming together for better or for worse, hopefully enduring, and intimate to the degree of being sacred,” the majority opinion reads – it represents a coming together for a “noble” purpose.

In short, the Supreme Court framed marital sex as natural, intimate and, perhaps most importantly, sacred. These characteristics, they argued, allowed it to exist beyond the gaze of the law.

Here’s the thing, though: Historians know that marriage hasn’t always been a private affair. Nor has it always been treated as sacred – not under the law, at any rate. As a scholar completing a book on the history of religion and contraception, I argue that the attitudes toward marriage and contraception reflected in the Griswold decision were deeply rooted in Protestant thought.

Private and public

Throughout European history, royal couples getting married often had witnesses leading them to their bedrooms and remaining there – or waiting right outside. The marriage was not considered legally binding until it was consummated. At a time when royal weddings were often intended to shore up alliances, knowing that the marriage had been consummated ensured that any political agreements were binding and at least suggested that heirs would be legitimate.

A bedding ceremony after the wedding of Carl X Gustav of Sweden and Hedwig Eleanor of Sweden, painted by Jürgen Ovens. Wikimedia Commons

Among the more “common folks,” today’s standard of marital privacy could not be achieved even within the family, simply because of space. In medieval and early modern Britain, whose legal system largely grounds American law, it was common for whole households to sleep or even live in just one room, including guests and apprentices. The reality of multipurpose, shared space was also the case in the American Colonies, on the frontier, and in the living quarters of enslaved people.

For much of its history, then, marriage was not the legalization of a private intimacy, but a public act made for a variety of political and economic reasons.

And while marriage was often understood as sacred, interpretations varied. Catholicism did consider marriage a sacrament but was not the most holy way to live – a status reserved for celibate priests and nuns.

At other times, marriage was not respected. Marriages between enslaved people, even when sanctioned by churches, held no weight in American law.

So why did the U.S. Supreme Court eventually assert that the state should not peer into the marital bedchamber?

Scholars such as Janet Jakobsen have argued that, during the Protestant Reformation, one of the ways that Protestants differentiated themselves from Catholics was by elevating marriage to the most sacred form of human sexuality.

Reformers such as Martin Luther criticized clerical celibacy, and were married. But the Protestant move toward married clergy was also about other kinds of freedom, according to Jakobsen. Religious and sexual freedom were intertwined: Marriage itself, not the church, became the institution where a couple could freely regulate their sexuality.

Praise for the pill

By the time the Supreme Court argued that marriage was, by nature, private and sacred, there was a long Protestant history of making that case.

But there was an even more recent Protestant history of making that argument specifically about birth control.

As new contraceptive options emerged in the 20th century, from the diaphragm to birth control pills, Christian leaders wrestled with what to think. The Catholic Church remained steadfastly opposed to contraception, although some Catholic theologians began to argue in favor of loosening the ban. Many Protestant denominations, meanwhile, slowly came to accept it – and then to endorse it.

Women with children stand outside Sanger Clinic – the first birth control clinic in the United States – in Brooklyn, N.Y., in 1916. Circa Images/GHI/Universal History Archive/Universal Images Group via Getty Images

Christians who came to support birth control framed it as a moral good: a tool that would allow married couples to have satisfying sex lives, while protecting women from the health risks of frequent pregnancies. Richard Fagley, the executive secretary of the the Commission of the Churches on International Affairs, was one of the architects of this new theological perspective. He argued in 1960 that medical knowledge, including contraception, was “a liberating gift from God, to be used to the glory of God, in accordance with his will for men.”

By the time the pill came on the market in the 1960s, liberal Protestants, as well as many conservatives, were applying ideas about “Christian duty” to a new theology of “responsible parenthood.”

The best kind of family, they argued, was a father with a steady job and a homemaker mother. Limiting family size could help make that financially possible – and decrease divorce, as well.

The National Council of Churches, an organization representing many Protestant and some Orthodox churches, wrote in a statement approved by most of its members that they acknowledged the value of sex in marriage with or without procreation, because it was central to the “mutual love and companionship” of the marriage bond.

That said, they still emphasized parenthood as “a divinely ordained purpose of marriage.” Parenthood was, in the council’s eyes, a “participation in God’s continuing creation, which calls for awe, gratitude, and a sense of high responsibility.”

When the Supreme Court struck down the constitutional right to an abortion in 2022, the majority opinion noted, “Nothing in this opinion should be understood to cast doubt on precedents that do not concern abortion.” Justice Clarence Thomas, however, wrote a concurring opinion calling for the court to revisit other decisions with similar reasoning, including the right to same-sex marriage and Griswold itself.

It seems important to look back on 1965, at the many voices that shaped the Griswold case, including secular feminists, medical doctors and Christian clergy. The decision’s supporters believed it would make women’s lives better, but also families’ lives – precisely by giving them privacy and autonomy.

Portions of this article originally appeared in a previous article published on May 24, 2022.

Samira Mehta receives funding from the Henry Luce Foundation.

How Shakespeare can help us overcome loneliness in the digital age

Wed, 13 Aug 2025 14:48:35 -0500

Are you addicted to endless scrolling? Trapped by the algorithms on your smartphone? Theatre might just be the antidote.

“Denmark’s a prison,” says Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, in one of Shakespeare’s most famous dramas. In this scene, he is speaking to his friends Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, who have been recruited to spy on him by his mother and uncle.

Hamlet isn’t literally imprisoned, but he does feel trapped by his circumstances. He comes to realize that his uncle murdered his father, married his mother and then seized the kingship. He is being watched. He wants to escape the surveillance of the Danish court.

More than 400 years after Hamlet’s first performance, experts have warned that we are trapped and manipulated by the surveillance of our smartphones. Our online behaviour has transformed us into marketable data, and addictive algorithms have bound us to an endless recycling of what we have “liked.”

Digital tribalism threatens democracy

This digital herding also affects who we interact with online. We often find ourselves gathering with others who like the same people and share the same politics, seeking both protection and alleviation from loneliness.

This new form of digital entrapment has given birth to a kind of tribalism — a strong sense of loyalty to a group or community — that political and social researchers warn may threaten a foundational practice of democracy: the possibility of authentic conversation among people.

The technologies of surveillance have drastically changed since Shakespeare’s time. Today, our habits are transformed into data by a virtual panopticon of devices.

The loneliness that many of us, especially young people, are suffering echoes Hamlet’s sense of isolation and inability to voice his true feelings.

While our culture is very different from Shakespeare’s London, his plays — and those by others — still have the potential to bring people together and help us think deeply about our shared experience.

Shakespeare’s playhouse conversations

In Hamlet, the prince knows something is rotten in Denmark, but he finds that he cannot speak publicly about it. All alone on stage, he says: “But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.”

Today, it seems, he could just as easily be speaking about how we curate ourselves online in our unquenchable desire to be seen and heard by others. But it doesn’t have to be this way.

Consider Shakespeare’s playhouse, an extraordinary gathering place for thousands of people. It was a space where all kinds of people could have conversations with the actors and each other about all kinds of themes, like the justice of “taming” an unruly woman (The Taming of the Shrew), how to push back against the power of a tyrant (Richard III) or how Christians might think differently about Jews (The Merchant of Venice).

Shakespeare opened established ways of thinking to questioning, inviting audiences to see the world and each other in new ways.

And audiences in Shakespeare’s time didn’t just sit quietly and listen. They interacted actively and loudly with the actors and the stories they saw on stage.

Historical research suggests theatre helped change early modern society by making it possible for commoners to have a public voice. In this way, Shakespeare contributed to the emergence of modern democratic culture.

Conversation pieces

Hamlet is one of Shakespeare’s most frequently performed tragedies, and his anguish under a surveillance state speaks to our own struggles for freedom and belonging.

In his soliloquies, he questions his own indecisiveness, but he prompts the audience, too, searching for their support: “Am I a coward?” he asks. His questions break the fourth wall, looking for answers in the audience.

Sometimes they talk back: from an intoxicated spectator at the Royal Shakespeare Company in the 1960s who shouted “yes!” to a teenager at the Stratford Festival in 2022 who whispered “no,” audiences want to speak with Hamlet, responding to his self-doubt with their own perspectives.

Hamlet knew about the theatre’s liberating power, too. In his search for a public voice, he chose to stage a play to expose corruption in Denmark. “The play’s the thing,” he said, “wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.”

Psychology researchers agree. Attending a play is proven to provoke the awakening of conscience, helping audiences empathize with political views that differ from their own. This understanding leads to pro-social behaviour outside the theatre.

Empathy, insight and social engagement

After watching a play by American playwright Dominique Morisseau about the impacts of the 2008 auto plant closures in Detroit, audiences were more likely to donate to and volunteer with charities supporting the homeless.

Seeing the vulnerability of fellow human beings onstage helps audience members become more empathetic towards each others’ experiences.

Theatre also helps the artists who make it rediscover their humanity. In the 2013 book Shakespeare Saved My Life, English professor Laura Bates writes about her experience teaching “the bard” to men in solitary confinement who could only speak to each other through slots in their cell doors.

One incarcerated person found a kindred spirit in Richard II, who is imprisoned at the end of his play. Reading Macbeth helped him understand the mistakes he made in his search for power.

A woman in a similar program in Michigan saw herself in Lady Anne’s grief in Richard III. Beyond empathizing with the characters, prisoners also felt empowered to confront the roles they had played in their past and to imagine new roles for the future.

Building community

The path towards empowerment or freedom through theatre is not limited to incarcerated spaces or grand professional stages.

Liberating theatre can take place wherever people gather: in living rooms and community centres; in parks and church basements; in a drama classroom or even on Zoom, where people can read plays aloud, improvise scenes from their own lives and create new stories together.

These modest theatrical gatherings offer something our devices cannot: the experience of being present with others in shared creative work.

When we step into the roles of characters, we step outside the algorithmic predictions that have come to direct or define us online.

When we collaborate to tell a story, we build the kind of community that allows us to bear witness for each other. Hamlet ends with the Danish prince asking his friend, Horatio, to tell the truth about what has happened: “In this harsh world draw thy breath in pain to tell my story.”

The theatre’s liberating power belongs to anyone willing to gather with others, turn off their phones and tell stories.

Each small theatrical gathering becomes an act of resistance — a reclaiming of our capacity for connection and conversation.

Marie Trotter receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Paul Yachnin receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Caught on the jumbotron: How literature helps us understand modern-day public shaming

Thu, 24 Jul 2025 13:31:25 -0500

The scene at Gillette Stadium in Massachusetts on July 16 was steeped in irony.

During Coldplay’s “jumbotron song” — the concert segment where cameras pan over the crowd — the big screen landed on Andy Byron, then-CEO of data firm Astronomer, intimately embracing Kristin Cabot, the company’s chief people officer. Both are married to other people.

The moment, captured on video and widely circulated on social media, shows the pair abruptly recoiling as Coldplay’s lead singer Chris Martin says: “Either they’re having an affair or they’re just very shy.”

Martin’s comment — seemingly light-hearted at the time — quickly took on a different tone as online sleuths identified the pair and uncovered their corporate roles and marital statuses. Within days, Byron resigned from his position as CEO while Cabot is on leave.

This spectacle raises a deeper question: why does infidelity, especially among the powerful, provoke such public outcry. Literary tradition offers some insight: intimate betrayal is never truly private. It shatters an implicit social contract, demanding communal scrutiny to restore trust.

When trust crumbles publicly

French philosopher Paul Ricoeur’s notion of “narrative identity” suggests we make sense of our lives as unfolding stories. The promises we make (and break) become chapters of identity and the basis of others’ trust. Betrayal ruptures the framework that stitches private vows to public roles; without that stitch, trust frays.

Byron’s stadium exposure turned a marital vow into a proxy for professional integrity. Public betrayal magnifies public outcry because leaders symbolize stability; their personal failings inevitably reflect on their institutions.

When Astronomer’s board stated the expected standard “was not met,” they were lamenting the collapse of Byron’s narrative integrity — and, by extension, their company’s.

This idea — that private morality underpins public order — is hardly new. In Laws, ancient Greek philosopher Plato described adultery as a disorder undermining family and state. Roman philosopher Seneca called it a betrayal of nature, while statesman Cicero warned that breaking fides (trust) corrodes civic bonds.

The social cost of infidelity in literature

Literature rarely confines infidelity to the bedroom; its shockwaves fracture communities.

French sociologist Émile Durkheim’s idea of the “conscience collective” holds that shared moral norms create “social solidarity.” As literature demonstrates, violations of these norms inevitably undermines communal trust.

‘Anna Karenina’ by Leo Tolstoy. (Penguin Random House)

Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina (1875-77) dramatizes the social fracture of betrayal. Anna’s affair with Count Vronsky not only defies moral convention but destabilizes the aristocratic norms that once upheld her status.

As the scandal leads to her ostracization, Anna mourns the social world she has lost, realizing too late that “the position she enjoyed in society… was precious to her… [and] she could not be stronger than she was.”

In Gustave Flaubert’s Madame Bovary (1857), Emma Bovary’s extramarital affairs unravel the networks of her provincial town, turning private yearning for luxury and romance into public contagion.

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter (1850) makes this explicit: Hester Prynne’s scarlet “A” turns her sin into civic theatre. Public shaming on the scaffold, the novel suggests, delineates moral boundaries and seeks to restore social order — a process that prefigures today’s “digital pillories,” where viral moments subject individuals to mass online judgment and public condemnation.

Domestic crumbs and digital scaffolds

Contemporary narratives shift the setting but uphold the same principle: betrayal devastates the mundane rituals that build trust.

‘Heartburn’ by Nora Ephron. (Penguin Random House)

Nora Ephron’s autobiographical novel Heartburn (1983), based on her own marriage’s collapse to investigative journalist Carl Bernstein, weaponizes domesticity.

Heartburn’s protagonist Rachel Samstat delivers her emotions through recipes — “Vinaigrette” as a marker of intimacy and betrayal, “Lillian Hellman’s Pot Roast” as a bid for domestic stability and “Key Lime Pie,” hurled at her cheating husband — become symbols of a life undone by public infidelity.

Ephron’s satire, later adapted into a film, anticipates our digital age of exposure, where private pain fuels public consumption and judgment.

‘Dept. of Speculation’ by Jenny Offill. (Penguin Random House)

Jenny Offill’s Dept. of Speculation (2014), which draws from her own life, shows another perspective: betrayal as quiet erosion.

Offill never depicts the affair directly; instead, the husband’s absences, silences and an off-hand reference to “someone else” create a suffocating dread. This indirection shows betrayal’s power lies in its latent potential, slowly dismantling a life built on trust before any overt act.

Both works underscore betrayal’s impact on the collective conscience: a lie fractures a family as fundamentally as a CEO’s indiscretion erodes institutional trust. Power magnifies the fallout by turning private failings into public symbols of fragility. Even hidden betrayal poisons the shared rituals binding any group, making the notion of “private” unsustainable long before any public revelation.

The limits of power

Literature acknowledges power’s protective veneer from consequence — and its limits.

Theodore Dreiser’s Trilogy of Desire (1912–47), modelled on the Gilded Age robber baron Charles Yerkes, follows the rise of financier Frank Cowperwood, whose power shields him — until it doesn’t. Even his vast empire proves vulnerable once his adultery becomes public. The very networks that protected him grow wary.

Though many critics of the elite are themselves morally compromised in the trilogy, Cowperwood’s transgression becomes a weapon to discredit him. His brief exile shows that power may defer, but cannot erase, the costs of betrayal. Once trust fractures, even the powerful become liabilities. They do not fall less often — only more conspicuously.

Gender also plays a role in shaping these narratives. Male protagonists like Cowperwood rebound as tragic anti-heroes, their moral failings recast as flaws of character. By contrast, women — think Flaubert’s Emma Bovary or Hawthorne’s Hester Prynne — are branded cautionary figures, their transgressions stigmatized rather than mythologized.

This imbalance in assigning consequences reveals a deeper societal judgment: while broken trust demands repair, the path to restoration often depends on the transgressor’s gender.

The unblinking eye

From Tolstoy’s salons to TikTok’s scroll, literature offers no refuge from betrayal’s ripple effects. When private trust visibly fractures, communal reflexes kick in.

Scarlet letters, exile or a CEO’s resignation all aim to heal the collective trust. The jumbotron, like Hester’s scaffold, is the latest instrument in this age-old theatre of exposure.

Jumbotrons. Scaffolds. Same operating system. Same shame.

Jason Wang does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

More people are considering AI lovers, and we shouldn’t judge

Sun, 20 Jul 2025 07:08:41 -0500

People are falling in love with their chatbots. There are now dozens of apps that offer intimate companionship with an AI-powered bot, and they have millions of users. A recent survey of users found that 19 per cent of Americans have interacted with an AI meant to simulate a romantic partner.

The response has been polarizing. In a New Yorker article titled “Your A.I. Lover Will Change You,” futurist Jaron Lanier argued that “when it comes to what will happen when people routinely fall in love with an A.I., I suggest we adopt a pessimistic estimate about the likelihood of human degradation.”

Podcaster Joe Rogan put it more succinctly — in a recent interview with Sen. Bernie Sanders, the two discussed the “dystopian” prospect of people marrying their AIs. Noting a case where this has already happened, Rogan said: “I’m like, oh, we’re done. We’re cooked.”

We’re probably not cooked. Rather, we should consider accepting human-AI relationships as beneficial and healthy. More and more people are going to form such relationships in the coming years, and my research in sexuality and technology indicates it is mostly going to be fine.

‘60 Minutes Australia’ examines people’s relationships with AI companions.

Ruining human connection

When surveying the breathless media coverage, the main concern raised is that chatbots will spoil us for human connection. How could we not prefer their cheerful personalities, their uncomplicated affection and their willingness to affirm everything we say?

The fear is that, seduced by such easy companionship, many people will surely give up their desire to find human partners, while others will lose their ability to form satisfying human relationships even if they want to.

It has been less than three years since the launch of ChatGPT and other chatbots based on large language models. That means we can only speculate about the long-term effects of AI-human relationships on our capacity for intimacy. There is little data to support either side of the debate, though we can do our best to make sense of more short-term studies and other pieces of available evidence.

There are certain risks that we do know about already, and we should take them seriously. For instance, we know that AI companion apps have terrible privacy policies. Chatbots can encourage destructive behaviours. Tragically, one may have played a role in a teenager’s suicide.

The companies that provide these apps can go out of business, or they can change their terms of service without warning. This can suddenly deprive users of access to technology that they’ve become emotionally attached, with no recourse or support.

Complex relationships

In assessing the dangers of relationships with AI, however, we should remember that human relationships are not exactly risk-free. One recent paper concluded that “the association between relationship distress and various forms of psychopathology is as strong as many other well-known predictors of mental illness.”

This is not to say we should swap human companions for AI ones. We just need to keep in mind that relationships can be messy, and we are always trying to balance the various challenges that come with them. AI relationships are no different.

We should also remember that just because someone forms an intimate bond with a chatbot, that doesn’t mean it will be their only close relationship. Most people have lots of different people in their lives, who play a variety of different roles. Chatbot users may depend on their AI companions for support and affirmation, while still having relationships with humans that provide different kinds of challenges and rewards.

Meta’s Mark Zuckerberg has suggested that AI companions may help solve the problem of loneliness. However, there is some (admittedly very preliminary data) to suggest that many of the people who form connections with chatbots are not just trying to escape loneliness.

In a recent study (which has not yet been peer reviewed), researchers found that feelings of loneliness did not play a measurable role in someone’s desire to form a relationship with an AI. Instead, the key predictor seemed to be a desire to explore romantic fantasies in a safe environment.

Support and safety

We should be willing to accept AI-human relationships without judging the people who form them. This follows a general moral principle that most of us already accept: we should respect the choices people make about their intimate lives when those choices don’t harm anyone else. However, we can also take steps to ensure that these relationships are as safe and satisfying as possible.

First of all, governments should implement regulations to address the risks we know about already. They should, for instance, hold companies accountable when their chatbots suggest or encourage harmful behaviour.

Governments should also consider safeguards to restrict access by younger users, or at least to control the behaviour of chatbots who are interacting with young people. And they should mandate better privacy protections — though this is a problem that spans the entire tech industry.

Second, we need public education so people understand exactly what these chatbots are and the issues that can arise with their use. Everyone would benefit from full information about the nature of AI companions but, in particular, we should develop curricula for schools as soon as possible.

While governments may need to consider some form of age restriction, the reality is that large numbers of young people are already using this technology, and will continue to do so. We should offer them non-judgmental resources to help them navigate their use in a manner that supports their well-being, rather than stigmatizes their choices.

AI lovers aren’t going to replace human ones. For all the messiness and agony of human relationships, we still (for some reason) pursue other people. But people will also keep experimenting with chatbot romances, if for no other reason than they can be a lot of fun.

The Shrouds: new Cronenberg film is an elusive meditation on death, grief and environmental ethics

Tue, 08 Jul 2025 12:11:07 -0500

Canadian filmmaker David Cronenberg is a leading figure in body horror, a film genre that explores disturbing and often grotesque aspects of the human body. Films such as The Fly (1986), eXistenZ (1999) and Crimes of the Future (2022) depict scenes of physical mutilation, illness and technological invasion to represent deeper fears about identity, society and the human condition.

Through intense bodily imagery, Cronenberg’s films raise powerful questions about human relationships with technology and nature. As our relationship with technology rapidly evolves alongside escalating environmental catastrophe, there is a timely significance in these ideas.

His latest film, The Shrouds, evokes the writing of Stacy Alaimo, a scholar known for her work exploring the connections between the human body, the environment, and the social forces that shape both. Alaimo’s work combines feminist and materialist ideas and examines how our bodies are physically connected to the world around us – not separate from nature or society, but shaped by both ecological systems and social structures.

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Like Cronenberg, Alaimo is interested in the entanglement of human flesh with more-than-human worlds, alongside the interplay between bodies and objects.

In The Shrouds, the body, specifically that of Becca (Diane Kruger) is placed firmly at the centre of the story. Appearing both as a decaying corpse and naked in dream sequences, her body bears fresh surgical scars which are unbandaged and exposed.

Becca’s body is shown as intensely vulnerable, a gendered depiction of femaleness which is controlled literally by the male gaze through the “shroud”, a piece of sci-fi wearable tech. It comprises a suit of MRI and X-ray cameras which encases a corpse, allowing decomposition to be monitored through a live video link with an app.

This conceit embeds Becca both in the Earth and in technology, creating deeply memorable imagery which challenges viewers to think about death, grief and the environmental ethics surrounding human burial.

The presentation of Becca’s body evokes Alaimo’s concept of transcorporeality. In her 2010 book Bodily Natures, Alaimo describes transcorporeality as the idea that “the human is ultimately inseparable from ‘the environment’” – continually transformed through interactions with the landscape, chemicals, technology and non-human forces. Becca’s corpse, decaying in real-time on a live link, highlights this connection.

Grief: the fictional and the personal

The film opens with Karsh (Vincent Kassel), Becca’s bereaved husband, in a dentist’s chair being told, “Grief is rotting your teeth”. The film as a whole can be read as a meditation on how grief seeps into and changes the body.

Written following the death of David Cronenberg’s wife (and initially conceived of as a Netflix series), Cronenberg has rejected the idea that it is fully autobiographical. It is, however, difficult to fully separate the director from the story.

Cassel as Karsh physically resembles Cronenberg in the film, blurring the boundary between fiction and the personal. Physical duplication is a disorienting motif of the film. Kruger reappears as Becca’s sister Terri and as an animated AI assistant named Honey.

Alongside the grotesque images of her decaying body, these versions of Kruger are especially striking. Cassel’s performance as the controlling and obsessive Karsh is nuanced and understated. His desire to monitor Becca’s decomposition is presented as a logical step to regain possession of her from her illness, and is deeply disturbing.

It also has ominous and timely resonance in our modern world, where controversial technology exists that permits artificial intelligence to create avatars of the dead to comfort the bereaved.

The film becomes a mimetic piece on grief, where boundaries between imagination and reality dissolve. Cronenberg’s frequent collaborator Howard Shore provides an ambient score that reinforces this dissolution. Ethereal and bass-rich, it features spacious, slowly evolving melodies wrapped in velvety synth textures which evoke a dream-like soundscape.

As the plot progresses into a tangle of conspiracy theories, lines blur between Karsh’s dreams and reality. Background plots drift unresolved, characters are vaguely sketched. Themes of environmental activism versus capitalist enterprise, the exploitation of technology, illegal surveillance and government corruption are all threaded through the story, but none are fully realised. This is not a film which offers a straightforward narrative or closure. Like grief, it remains raw, fluid and difficult to contain.

Throughout, the film returns to Becca’s decaying body, encased in a shroud that is described as both toxic and radioactive, an object of controversy for eco-activists. “She’s dead, remember, she can’t do anything,” Karsh’s companion reminds him.

But this is not true for Becca. In death, her body is watched and consumed by systems of surveillance and ecological anxiety. Symbolising Alaimo’s concept of transcorporeality, Becca’s decaying corpse, wrapped in technology, but buried in the Earth, is deeply connected to the environment and cannot be separated from it. Her body is influenced by both its natural surroundings and social factors such as the shroud’s technology, outside interference and Karsh’s control.

Karsh asserts that burial is a complex matter, converging politics, religion and economics. The Shrouds raises questions that touch on all of these, but provides no tangible answers. Some viewers will be frustrated by the film’s lack of logical structure and resolution. But it is also fair to say that this is how it mirrors the pathways of grief itself: unwieldy, unpredictable and consuming.

Laura O'Flanagan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

New US directive for visa applicants turns social media feeds into political documents

Sun, 06 Jul 2025 20:41:11 -0500

Angel DiBiblio/Shutterstock

In recent weeks, the US State Department implemented a policy requiring all university, technical training, or exchange program visa applicants to disclose their social media handles used over the past five years. The policy also requires these applicants to set their profiles to public.

This move is an example of governments treating a person’s digital persona as their political identity. In doing so, they risk punishing lawful expression, targeting minority voices, and redefining who gets to cross borders based on how they behave online.

Anyone seeking one of these visas will have their social media searched for “indications of hostility” towards the citizens, culture or founding principles of the United States. This enhanced vetting is supposed to ensure the US does not admit anyone who may be deemed a threat.

However, this policy changes how a person’s online presence is evaluated in visa applications and raises many ethical concerns. These include concerns around privacy, freedom of expression, and the politicisation of digital identities.

Digital profiling

The Trump administration has previously taken aim at higher education with the goal of changing the ideological slant of these institutions, including making changes to international student enrolment and the role of foreign nationals in US research institutions.

Digital rights advocates have expressed concerns this new requirement could lead to self-censorship and hinder freedom of expression.

It is unknown exactly which specific online actions will trigger a visa refusal, as the US government hasn’t disclosed detailed criteria. However, guidance to consular officers indicates that digital behaviour suggesting “hostility” toward the US or its values may be grounds for concern.

Internal advice suggests officers are trained to look for social media content that may reflect extremist views, criminal associations or ideological opposition to the US.

Political ‘passport’

In a sense, this policy turns a visa applicant’s online presence into a kind of political passport. It allows for scrutiny not just of past behaviour but also of ideological views.

Digital identity is not just a technical construct. It carries legal, philosophical and historical weight. It can influence access to rights, recognition and legitimacy, both online and offline.

Once this identity is interpreted by state institutions, it can become a tool for control shaped by institutional whims. Governments justify digital surveillance as a way to spot threats. But research consistently shows it leads to overreach.

A recent report found that US social media monitoring programs have frequently flagged activists and religious minorities. It also found the programs lacked transparency and oversight.

Digital freedom nonprofit Electronic Frontier Foundation has warned these tools risk punishing people for lawful expression or for simply being connected to certain communities.

The US is not alone in integrating digital surveillance into border security. China has implemented social credit systems. And the United Kingdom is exploring digital ID systems for immigration control. There are even calls for Australia to use artificial intelligence to facilitate digital border checks.

The United Nations has raised concerns about the global trend toward digital vetting at borders, especially when used without judicial oversight or transparency.

A free speech issue

These new checks could have a chilling effect on self-expression. This is particularly true for those with views that don’t align with governments or who are from minority backgrounds.

We’ve seen this previously. After whistleblower Edward Snowden revealed widespread use of data gathering by US intelligence agencies, people stopped visiting politically sensitive Wikipedia articles. Not because they were told to, but because they feared being watched.

This policy won’t just affect visa applicants. It could shift how people use social media in general. That’s because there is no clear rulebook for what counts as “acceptable”. And when no one knows where the line is, people self-censor more than is necessary.

What can you do?

If you think you might apply for an affected visa in the future, here are some tips.

1. Audit your social media history now. Old posts, “likes” or follows from years ago may be reviewed and judged out of context. Review your public posts on platforms such as Instagram, Facebook and X. Delete or archive anything that might be misconstrued.

2. Separate personal and professional online identities. Consider keeping distinct accounts for private and public engagement. Use pseudonyms for creative or informal content. Immigration authorities are far less likely to misinterpret context when your online presence is clearly tied to your educational or professional goals.

3. Understand your online visibility and history. Even if you have privacy settings enabled, tagged content, public “likes”, comments and follows can still be seen. Algorithms expose content based on associations, not just what you post. Don’t assume your visibility is limited to your followers.

4. Keep records of any deleted or misinterpreted posts. If you think something might be questioned or if you delete posts ahead of an application, keep a backup. Consular officials may request clarification or evidence. It’s better to be prepared than to be caught off-guard without explanation.

Your social media is no longer a personal space. It may be used by governments to determine whether you fit in.

Samuel Cornell receives funding from an Australian Government Research Training Program Scholarship.

Daniel Angus receives funding from Australian Research Council through Linkage Project 'Young Australians and the Promotion of Alcohol on Social Media'. He is a Chief Investigator with the ARC Centre of Excellence for Automated Decision Making & Society.

T.J. Thomson receives funding from the Australian Research Council. He is an affiliate with the ARC Centre of Excellence for Automated Decision Making & Society.

Amid alarm over a US ‘autism registry’, people are using these tactics to avoid disability surveillance – podcast

Thu, 26 Jun 2025 04:50:01 -0500

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. caused controversy in April by promising to find the cause for autism by September. Claims by the new US secretary for health and human services that autism is a “preventable disease” with an environmental cause, contradict a body of research that suggests autism is caused by a combination of genetic and external factors.

The US government announced that to support the research effort into autism, the National Institutes of Health (NIH), would partner with Medicare and Medicaid to build a “data platform” involving data on claims, medical records and consumer wearables.

When first announced this plan was dubbed an autism registry, though the government later denied that’s what it was creating, instead calling it a “ real-world platform” to allow researchers to study comprehensive data on people with autism.

While the NIH defended the decision as “fully compliant with privacy and security laws”, autistic people and disability advocates are alarmed at the potential violations such a data platform could enable.

In this episode of The Conversation Weekly podcast, we speak to Amy Gaeta, a research associate at the University of Cambridge in the UK who studies disability surveillance.

Gaeta, who is American, explains that for over a century, disabled people have often been denied the right to privacy and been subjected to a sinister history of forced medical testing, forced sterilisation and various laws that criminalise mental illness. She says:

I think this is why a lot of these everyday actions that disabled people do to resist surveillance don’t even come across as anti-surveillance. To them it just comes across as this is how I exist in the world.

Gaeta talks us through some of the strategies people are using to avoid potential surveillance, from self-diagnosis, to withholding information or being careful with the language they use to describe themselves. Listen to our conversation with Gaeta on The Conversation Weekly podcast.

This episode of The Conversation Weekly was written and produced by Katie Flood with assistance from Mend Mariwany. Gemma Ware is the executive producer. Mixing and sound design by Eloise Stevens and theme music by Neeta Sarl.

Newsclips in this episode from ABC News.

Listen to The Conversation Weekly via any of the apps listed above, download it directly via our RSS feed or find out how else to listen here. A transcript of this episode is available on Apple Podcasts or Spotify.

Amy Gaeta receives research funding from UKRI, a grant that is hosted at the Leverhulme Centre for the Future of Intelligence.

Scrapping the national census raises data sovereignty and surveillance fears for Māori

Wed, 18 Jun 2025 23:25:28 -0500

Getty Images

Yesterday’s announcement that the five-yearly national census would be scrapped has raised difficult questions about the effectiveness, ethics and resourcing of the new “administrative” system that will replace it.

An administrative census will use information collected in day-to-day government activities, such as emergency-room admission forms, overseas travel declarations and marriage licences.

The move is not necessarily bad in principle, especially given the rising cost of the census and declining participation rates. But to make it effective and robust it must be properly resourced. And it must give effect to the principles of te Tiriti o Waitangi (Treaty of Waitangi), as set out in the Data and Statistics Act.

The transformation process so far leaves considerable room for doubt that these things will happen. In particular, there are major ethical and Māori data sovereignty issues at stake.

As Te Mana Raraunga (the Māori Data Sovereignty Network) advocates, data is a living taonga (treasure), is of strategic value to Māori, and should be subject to Māori governance. Changes to census methods risk compromising these values – and undermining public trust in the official statistics system in general.

Because the new system takes census data gathering out of the hands of individual citizens and households, it also raises questions about state surveillance and social licence.

Surveillance and social licence

Surveillance means more than police stakeouts or phone-tapping. The state constantly collects and uses many kinds of data about us and our movements.

For more than a decade, the Integrated Data Infrastructure has been the government’s tool to patch gaps in its own data ecosystems.

This administrative data is collected without our direct and informed consent, and there is no real way to opt out. The safeguard is that information about individuals is “de-identified” once it enters the Integrated Data Infrastructure – no names, just data points.

Stats NZ, which administers the system, says it has the social licence to collect, cross-reference and use this administrative data. But genuine social licence requires that people understand and accept how their data is being used.

Stats NZ’s own research shows only around one in four people surveyed have enough knowledge about its activities to make an informed judgement.

The risks associated with this form of surveillance are amplified for Māori because of their particular historical experience with data and surveillance. The Crown used data collection and monitoring systems to dispossess land and suppress cultural practices, which continue to disproportionately affect Māori communities today.

Meaningful work to address this has taken place under the Mana Ōrite agreement, a partnership between Stats NZ and the Data Iwi Leaders Group (part of the National Iwi Chairs Forum). The agreement aims to solidify iwi authority over their own data and ensure Māori perspectives are heard in decision-making around data and statistics.

Data and a distorted picture of Māori

On the face of it, repurposing administrative data seems like a realistic solution to the census budget blowout. But there are questions about whether the data and methods used in an administrative census will be robust and of high quality. This has implications for policy and for communities.

Administrative data in its current form is limited in many ways. In particular, it misses what is actually important to Māori communities, and what makes life meaningful to them.

Administrative data often only measures problems. It is collected on Māori at their most vulnerable – when they’re in crisis, sick or struggling – which creates a distorted picture. In contrast, Te Kupenga (a survey by Stats NZ last run in 2018) included information by Māori and from a Māori cultural perspective that reflected lived realities.

Before increasing reliance on administrative data, greater engagement with Māori will be needed to ensure a data system that gathers and provides reliable, quality data. It is especially important for smaller hapori Māori (Māori communities), which need the data to make decisions for their members.

Stats NZ plans to partly fill the data void left by removing the traditional census with regular surveys. But the small sample size of surveys often makes it impossible to obtain reliable information on smaller groups, such as takatāpui (Māori of diverse gender and sexualities) or specific hapū or iwi groups.

It is not clear the implications of this have been fully been worked through in the census change process. Nor is it clear whether the recommendations from Stats NZ’s Future Census Independent External Review Panel – from Māori and a range of experts – have been fully considered.

This included crucial recommendations around commissioning an independent analysis informed by te Tiriti principles, meaningful engagement with iwi-Māori, and the continuing implementation of a Māori data governance model developed by Māori data experts.

We are not opposed to updating the way in which census data is collected. But for the new approach to be just, ethical and legal will require it to adhere to te Tiriti o Waitangi and the relationship established in the Mana Ōrite agreement.

Lara Greaves receives funding from the Royal Society of NZ, MBIE, and Horizon Europe. Lara is affiliated with Te Mana Raraunga-Māori Data Sovereignty Network.

Ella Pēpi Tarapa-Dewes is affiliated with Te Mana Raraunga-Māori Data Sovereignty Network.

Kiri West receives funding from Ngā Pae o te Māramatanga. She is affiliated with Te Mana Raraunga-Māori Data Sovereignty Network.

Larissa Renfrew is affiliated with Te Mana Raraunga-Māori Data Sovereignty Network.

The proposed Strong Borders Act gives police new invasive search powers that may breach Charter rights

Thu, 05 Jun 2025 14:17:00 -0500

The new Liberal government has tabled its first bill in Parliament, the Strong Borders Act, or Bill C-2. Buried within it are several new powers that give police easier access to our private information.

The bill responds to recent calls to beef up the enforcement of our border with the United States. It gives customs and immigration officials new powers: to search items being exported, like potentially stolen vehicles, and to deport migrants believed to be abusing Canada’s refugee protections.

New police powers

But while facing pressure from the U.S. to act, the Canadian government is using the apparent urgency of the moment to give police and intelligence agents a host of new powers to search our private data — powers that have nothing to do with the border.

Some of them are already controversial and will no doubt be tested in the Supreme Court of Canada, if and when they’re passed. But many have also been on the wish list of previous governments, as part of “lawful access” bills that would make it easier for police to obtain details about a person’s online activity in cases involving child pornography, financial or gang-related crime.

Why now? Why make another attempt to lower the barriers to police access to private data? And what is the controversy over these new powers?

Gaps in the law

The Charter of Rights and Freedoms protects the right to privacy of anyone in Canada. Police need authority — explicit permission set out somewhere in the law — to carry out a search or seizure of our private data for an investigative purpose.

A law that allows police to do this must itself be reasonable, in the sense of striking the right balance between law enforcement and individual privacy.

For the first 20 years of the web, it wasn’t clear what the police could or couldn’t do to gather information about us online.

The Supreme Court held in 2014 that when police ask Shaw or Telus to give them a name attaching to an online account, this amounts to a search. While a person’s name and address may not reveal much on its own, the court held, it opens a door to something very private: a person’s entire search history.

But the court in that case did not decide what kind of power police needed to make this demand, only that police need permission in law to make it.

In Canadian law, requesting a name and address attached to an online account amounts to a search. (Shutterstock)

In 2024, the Supreme Court held that when police ask for an internet protocol (IP) address linked to a person’s online activity, even that is private because it can open a window onto a lot more personal information.

Police have been using warrant provisions in the Criminal Code to make a demand for an IP address, or the name and address linked to an online account. To get a warrant, in most cases, they need to show a judge they have reason to believe a crime has been committed that is linked to the account — in other words, they must show probable cause.

Police have complained about how difficult this can be in some cases. They’ve long been calling for more tools.

Expansive new powers

The Strong Borders Act makes it easier for police and other state agents in a few ways.

It will be easier to get a warrant because the new bill allows police to ask service providers like Shaw or Telus — without a warrant — whether they have information about an IP address or a person’s account.

To then obtain that information, police need a warrant — but on the lower standard of reasonable suspicion of a crime, instead of probable cause. This can also apply to foreign entities like Google or Meta.

Canadian Security Intelligence Service agents can ask a provider like Shaw or Google whether they have information about an account holder on no grounds at all. But in this case, the person of interest can’t be a citizen or a permanent resident.

Compelling providers

More concerning are powers in the bill compelling companies like Google or Apple, along with Shaw and Telus, to assist police in obtaining access to private data.

Any company that provides Canadians with a service that stores or transmits information in digital form — pretty much anything we do on a phone or computer — can be ordered to help police gain immediate access to our data.

The bill does this by stipulating that a company can be told to install “any device, equipment or other thing that may enable an authorized person to access information.”

There are important limits on this. Police can only gain access if they have a warrant or other lawful permission. And a service provider need not comply with any order that would “introduce a systemic vulnerability,” like compelling them to install a backdoor to encryption.

But the point is that these new powers compel companies to implement “capabilities” for “extracting… information that is authorized to be accessed.” They turn the brands we have an intimate relationship with — gmail, iCloud, Instagram and many others — into tools of the state.

Future challenges

For some of us, the thought that Apple or Google can now be conscripted to serve as a state agent to facilitate ready access to private data is unsettling. Even if there are safeguards.

Courts will have to decide at some point whether searches conducted under these new powers strike a reasonable balance between law enforcement and personal privacy. Courts have held that our privacy interest in personal data is high.

Whether police interest in quicker and easier access to that data in certain cases is equally high is an open question. But one thing is clear: it doesn’t seem to have much to do with the border.

Robert Diab does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Americans see Republicans growing more comfortable, and Democrats less, with sharing their views

Fri, 30 May 2025 13:54:38 -0500

Four-in-ten U.S. adults say Republicans are very comfortable expressing their political views, and 36% say the same about Democrats.

The post Americans see Republicans growing more comfortable, and Democrats less, with sharing their views appeared first on Pew Research Center.

Most of us will leave behind a large ‘digital legacy’ when we die. Here’s how to plan what happens to it

Sun, 25 May 2025 15:20:55 -0500

Imagine you are planning the funeral music for a loved one who has died. You can’t remember their favourite song, so you try to login to their Spotify account. Then you realise the account login is inaccessible, and with it has gone their personal history of Spotify playlists, annual “wrapped” analytics, and liked songs curated to reflect their taste, memories, and identity.

We tend to think about inheritance in physical terms: money, property, personal belongings. But the vast volume of digital stuff we accumulate in life and leave behind in death is now just as important – and this “digital legacy” is probably more meaningful.

Digital legacies are increasingly complex and evolving. They include now-familiar items such as social media and banking accounts, along with our stored photos, videos and messages. But they also encompass virtual currencies, behavioural tracking data, and even AI-generated avatars.

This digital data is not only fundamental to our online identities in life, but to our inheritance in death. So how can we properly plan for what happens to it?

A window into our lives

Digital legacy is commonly classified into two categories: digital assets and digital presence.

Digital assets include items with economic value. For example, domain names, financial accounts, monetised social media, online businesses, virtual currencies, digital goods, and personal digital IP. Access to these is spread across platforms, hidden behind passwords or restricted by privacy laws.

Digital presence includes content with no monetary value. However, it may have great personal significance. For example, our photos and videos, social media profiles, email or chat threads, and other content archived in cloud or platform services.

There is also data that might not seem like content. It may not even seem to belong to us. This includes analytics data such as health and wellness app tracking data. It also includes behavioural data such as location, search or viewing history collected from platforms such as Google, Netflix and Spotify.

This data reveals patterns in our preferences, passions, and daily life that can hold intimate meaning. For example, knowing the music a loved one listened to on the day they died.

Digital remains now also include scheduled posthumous messages or AI-generated avatars.

All of this raises both practical and ethical questions about identity, privacy, and corporate power over our digital afterlives. Who has the right to access, delete, or transform this data?

Our music streaming data can show meaningful patterns in our preferences, passions, and daily life. Kaspars Grinvalds/Shutterstock

Planning for your digital remains

Just as we prepare wills for physical possessions, we need to plan for our digital remains. Without clear instructions, important digital data may be lost and inaccessible to our loved ones.

In 2017, I helped develop key recommendations for planning your digital legacy. These include:

creating an inventory of accounts and assets, recording usernames and login information, and if possible, downloading personal content for local storage
specifying preferences in writing, noting wishes about what content should be preserved, deleted, or shared – and with whom
using password managers to securely store and share access to information and legacy preferences
designating a digital executor who has legal authority to carry out your digital legacy wishes and preferences, ideally with legal advice
using legacy features on available platforms, such as Facebook’s Legacy Contact, Google’s Inactive Account Manager, or Apple’s Digital Legacy.

What if your loved one left no plan?

These steps may sound uncontroversial. But digital wills remain uncommon. And without them, managing someone’s digital legacy can be fraught with legal and technical barriers.

Platform terms of service and privacy rules often prevent access by anyone other than the account holder. They can also require official documentation such as a death certificate before granting limited access to download or close an account.

In such instances, gaining access will probably only be possible through imperfect workarounds, such as searching online for traces of someone’s digital life, attempting to use account recovery tools, or scouring personal documents for login information.

The need for better standards

Current platform policies have clear limitations for handling digital legacies. For example, policies are inconsistent. They are also typically limited to memorialising or deleting accounts.

With no unified framework, service providers often prioritise data privacy over family access. Current tools prioritise visible content such as profiles or posts. However, they exclude less visible yet equally valuable (and often more meaningful) behavioural data such as listening habits.

Problems can also arise when data is removed from its original platform. For example, photos from Facebook can lose their social and relational meaning without their associated comment threads, reactions, or interactivity.

Meanwhile, emerging uses of posthumous data, especially AI-generated avatars, raise urgent issues about digital personhood, ownership, and possible harms. These “digital remains” may be stored indefinitely on commercial servers without standard protocols for curation or user rights.

The result is a growing tension between personal ownership and corporate control. This makes digital legacy not only a matter of individual concern but one of digital governance.

Standards Australia and the New South Wales Law Reform Commission have recognised this. Both organisations are seeking consultation to develop frameworks that address inconsistencies in platform standards and user access.

Managing our digital legacies demands more than practical foresight. It compels critical reflection on the infrastructures and values that shape our online afterlives.

Bjorn Nansen does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

The Supreme Court Denies Balogh Certiorari Petition

Sat, 17 May 2025 17:54:27 -0500

…But the Fight for Free Speech and Assembly Goes On

By Glen Allen, Esq.

As I mentioned in my February 20, 2025 article on the Free Expression Foundation website, in February 2025 Fred Kelly and I filed a certiorari petition with the U.S. Supreme Court on behalf of Warren Balogh in the Balogh v. City of Charlottesville, et al. case. Warren and Gregory Conte, as you will recall, had filed a pro se complaint in the federal court for the Western District of Virginia seeking redress for injuries the City of Charlottesville and its police department inflicted on them during the Unite the Right rally in August 2017. Fred, Warren, and I filed the petition because we believed – and still believe – not only that the defendants’ conduct had been unconstitutionally partisan but that the case raised critically important issues regarding the proper role of the police to protect unpopular speech. We knew the odds the Supreme Court would grant the petition were against us (the Court grants only about 1% of petitions) but we believed our odds were better than most petitions because of the important issues our case presented. Above all, seeking Supreme Court review was the right and honorable step to take.

On April 7, 2025, the Supreme Court denied our petition. The Court’s decision, although not surprising, is regrettable. The Court missed an opportunity to advance the cause of First Amendment protection for unpopular speech and to admonish the City of Charlottesville for taking sides against Warren and the other pro-monument protestors. The Court’s denial of our petition, however, has not altered FEF’s determination to uphold First Amendment principles even in the face of daunting challenges .

Warren Balogh wrote an eloquent substack article (Warren’s Substack, April 27, 2025) about his case. He has given me permission to quote from it, and I do so below:

Mainstream media reporting on my lawsuit has mischaracterized it as me charging that the police failed to protect us from counter-demonstrators on August the 12th. This is not true. Everyone who attended the UTR rally knows we could have, and did, protect ourselves from violent anti-White extremists. In spite of the fact that the ranks of the counter-demonstrators included professional agitators, violent career criminals, armed thugs and activists with detailed plans to commit criminal mayhem and violence against UTR attendees, the fact is that even with police “standing down” to let them attack us, the vast majority of our people made it into the permitted rally area unharmed.

If police hadn’t intervened, we would’ve been able to hear the speakers and carry out our demonstration during the time permitted, and we likely all would’ve been able to leave the park in an orderly fashion and make it back to our vehicles without anyone getting killed or seriously injured. The problem with Charlottesville, and the reason for my lawsuit, was not principally that police failed to protect our side from the other side, but that police attacked our side and drove us into the other side. They dispersed our rally while failing to disperse the Antifa and BLM counter-demonstrators. In fact, the only place the dispersal order was enforced was inside the tiny confines of the park where we held the permit. Leftist counter-demonstrators were given the run of the streets by city authorities!

As I pointed out to [District Court] Judge Moon in one hearing, if the dispersal order had been enforced as “content and viewpoint neutral” (which is a very serious constitutional legal requirement), then why were hundreds of Antifa still marching around the streets in triumph nearly two hours later, when a frightened young man named James Fields—after plugging in GPS directions to take him back home to his mother in Ohio—accidentally turned down a street and found his vehicle under attack by an armed mob?

Moon’s dismissal of our suit, which was later upheld by the Fourth Circuit Court and reaffirmed by SCOTUS’s declining to review my petition, was based on some very specious interpretation and legal reasoning: that police and officials could not be held liable for acts while carrying out their duties (which doesn’t apply in constitutional matters), that we didn’t include enough particulars about certain defendants (more evidence would’ve come out in discovery, or became known after the complaint was filed). Normally, at the dismissal phase, plaintiffs are to be assumed to have the facts on their side, and this is doubly true in a case of such constitutional import and public interest.

Incredibly, Moon’s court even asserted that peaceful, permitted rally-goers have no right to police protection from violent counter-demonstrators. In my appeal to the Fourth Circuit, one federal judge even asked defendants’ attorneys to clarify their argument that I would’ve had no right to expect police protection even if there was no violence from our side, and all the violence came from the other side. And yes, defendants’ attorneys affirmed it, that was their argument!

During my hearing with Judge Moon, I asked that if their position was that peaceful, non-violent, legal permit-holding demonstrators have no right to police protection from violent thugs who come to shut them down, then how are we supposed to exercise our First Amendment right to free speech and freedom of assembly? Neither Judge Moon, nor defendants’ attorneys, nor the three judges of the Fourth Circuit court, nor the SCOTUS were able to answer that question.

All I wanted is a blueprint on how we can exercise our rights.

If the burden is on us to defend ourselves, then so be it, but let the courts affirm we have the right to defend ourselves. This right was explicitly denied to us by the aftermath of UTR, however. As with James Fields, or the half-dozen or so men who went to prison for defending themselves in the anarchic clashes after the police broke up our rally, we are told we have no right to police protection—but also that we have no right to protect ourselves.

That this makes certain types of protest de facto illegal in the United States should be obvious to everyone. . . .

I am very proud to have waged this legal battle for as long as I could. I’m proud that all my filings and the permanent legal record will stand for all time as documents setting out a factual account of what happened. I’m proud that my children and hopefully my grandchildren and great-grandchildren will one day be able to see how I took the right side in the most important fight of our lives. I’m proud that I was able to wage this battle with a minimum of resources and that I was able to tie up countless enemy attorneys and many, many times the resources I spent in making these corrupt, rotten people defend themselves and their actions. I’m proud my name will be forever associated with this fight.

We should always fight for our rights. As I’ve often said, we need to either force this democracy to work, or make them shut democracy down so hard, it will be obvious to all that it’s an illegitimate sham. . . .

I want to thank Glen Allen and Fred Kelly of the Free Expression Foundation. The original complaint was filed pro se, but I never could’ve appealed it to the Fourth Circuit or petitioned the Supreme Court without their help. They are some of the last honest attorneys in America, and some of the only ones who have any courage. I also want to thank Greg Conte, my original co-plaintiff, and Augustus Invictus, who helped prepare the original draft of the complaint . . . .

I want to thank all those who donated and privately chipped in with legal costs. I never wanted this lawsuit to take away funds from those who were waging their own very critical defensive battles against the Sines v. Kessler suits, or trying to stay out of prison, but thanks to the volunteer work of many men we were able to keep going for a tiny fraction of what a suit like this would normally cost. In this country founded “by lawyers, for lawyers,” the process is often the punishment, the rich and powerful have a decisive advantage and openly brag about using so-called lawfare against their political enemies. But this lawsuit shows how a committed and, the harder and more costly it becomes for them to suppress us.

Lastly I would like to thank every last man and woman who attended the Unite the Right rally on August 11-12th, 2017. This lawsuit was a symbolic fight for all the young men who sacrificed more at Charlottesville than I did: all those who spent years in prison, who had their careers or reputations destroyed, who ended their own lives, who still have the threat of imprisonment hanging over their heads. For all their sakes, it was worth it.

Virtual churches are popular in Ghana. But what about online safety?

Thu, 15 May 2025 08:04:00 -0500

Many churches have been holding worship services online via live-streaming platforms in recent times. This is unsurprising since many congregants use digital technologies. The COVID-19 pandemic also pushed churches to swiftly embrace digital platforms. This allowed them to continue with religious activities when physical and mobility restrictions were in place.

Some churches invest heavily in audio-visual equipment, lighting systems and other gadgets to provide the right conditions for media production and to enhance the worship experience for congregants, online and in person.

Digital technologies and platforms have become core components of the outreach and evangelistic activities of churches. Some contemporary pastors have a strong online presence with a huge following, mostly in the millions. They actively engage their followers and share different forms of messages with them.

As the amount of online content generated by churches grows, questions of safety, security and privacy have come to the fore. It is important to look at how churches address these concerns as they rapidly deploy digital platforms to reach and maintain virtual church membership.

I am a media and communication studies academic and researcher. In a recent paper I worked with my student to examined the concerns of congregants of a church in Ghana over the security dangers that digital church engagement poses.

Christianity is the religion with the largest following in Ghana. During the COVID-19 pandemic, many churches turned to online services and have continued with them.

The research revealed that there were no established policies guiding the church’s virtual engagements. The media team relied primarily on their subjective judgement to address any potential ethical dilemmas.

Beside enhanced privacy measures and access control, we recommend ethical frameworks and guidelines to govern the management of congregants’ personal information in both physical and virtual environments. This must include the inputs of congregants and experts.

The research also found that word of mouth was still the primary means by which congregants came to learn about the church. This suggests churches cannot abandon the old ways of reaching out to people.

Digital technology and the church

Radio, TV and social media are all used to extend invitations to the public, promote and advertise churches, and generally facilitate church activities. The importance of having an online presence has compelled a significant number of churches to have dedicated media teams. They create and distribute content meant for digital platforms. The content includes photos and audiovisual testimonies of church members.

To ensure that members of online churches have a positive experience during live streaming, most media departments also invest creativity into their videography. On live streams, followers (virtual congregants) react to songs being sung and respond to what the preacher says with comments and the use of emojis and GIFs. This is synonymous with how they might react in the physical church environment.

But during the streaming of worship services, information about church members is not just shared in the physical church environment but also with a broader online audience. By the nature of live-streaming, there is no control over who has access to the content, how widely it is distributed, and for what and how the content is used by third parties.

The study and some of its key findings

Data collection for our study involved 170 survey respondents (congregants) and eight interview participants (videographers, video editors and social media managers from the church media department).

We asked the congregants how they had first learned about the church; factors influencing their participation in virtual church services; and what safety and security concerns they had around their virtual church engagements.

The interview participants were asked about the ethical considerations directing their work.

Our study found that congregants had a range of concerns. Based on the sense of safety, confidence and trust they have in the church, congregants participating in physical church services may divulge personal information. These include prayer requests, personal hardships, or testimonials about their accomplishments. They sometimes do this with the understanding that the information will remain inside the church’s walls.

Chief among the concerns were:

the risk of identity theft
the potential misuse of personal data for targeted advertising
potential privacy invasion because of their interactions with the church’s digital platforms.

Some members of the media team admitted that congregants might have privacy and security concerns. However, in the absence of formal guidelines, any attempt to ensure the privacy and security of congregants might be an ad hoc measure. This was demonstrated in the study’s finding that the media team’s privacy and security adherence was largely based on their judgement and sometimes on prodding from congregants.

What can be done

Based on concerns raised by congregants, we argue that churches must ensure the privacy of those participating in services by instituting confidentiality and anonymity measures, particularly when sharing their personal or sensitive information.

In addition, participants in our research held the view that some sensitisation could be useful to cater to those concerns. This could take the form of regular sensitisation of congregants on how they can enhance their online safety and security.

We believe that because churches sometimes rely on photos, videos and testimonies of members to build their social media profiles, a rule-based system must be put in place. This could involve delayed broadcasting techniques to prevent the airing of sensitive information.

We suggest that steps be taken to protect sensitive information and content about members that is shared online. An example of how this can be done is being set by a non-denominational prayer movement that has taken over Ghana’s online sphere. To secure the privacy of members who share testimonies, their identities are kept anonymous and certain details, such as names and places, are also protected.

Finally, the right technology must be put in place to allow for delayed broadcasts. This means live-streamed content can be reviewed and, where necessary, edited so that sensitive content can be removed before the broadcast reaches a wide online audience.

Theodora Dame Adjin-Tettey received funding from the National Research Foundation of South Africa for her post doctoral fellowship.

Smartwatches promise all kinds of quality-of-life improvements − here are 5 things users should keep in mind

Mon, 12 May 2025 07:27:43 -0500

That smarts! Photo by Lorena Sopena/Anadolu via Getty Images

Smartwatches and other wearable devices can feel almost magical. Strap on a Fitbit, Apple Watch or Samsung Gear and you’re suddenly presented with a stream of data generated by – and about – your body: step counts, heart rate, blood oxygen level, calories burned and more.

Wearables offer tools that help people monitor and understand their bodies and, so the promise goes, improve their lives. Apple CEO Tim Cook has even said the technology company aspires to save your life.

As a professor who studies technology, I’ve spent the past decade researching smartwatches and other wearables. My new book, “Bringers of Order: Wearable Technologies and the Manufacturing of Everyday Life,” considers the gap between what these products promise and what they actually do.

Wearables rely on complicated sets of sensors and computer systems to create data for each user. As these devices become more common – and more complex – I worry that people may be tempted to think less about how they work. As a result, they might accept data at face value without considering how it was generated, whether it’s accurate, or even if it could put them at risk.

So to get the maximum value from wearable technologies, it’s worth reflecting on the differences between what these devices seem to do and what’s actually happening behind the screen. Here are a few key points to remember.

1. Steps aren’t really steps

Wearable fitness trackers gained popularity in the early 2010s for their ability to count steps and measure things such as distance, calories burned and flights of stairs climbed. While it’s tempting to think so-called step counts reflect the number of times a wearer’s feet have completed the action of taking a step, that is not the case.

In reality, a combination of sensors and algorithms work together to produce a data point called “a step.” In most instances, something called an accelerometer measures change in the wearable’s velocity. This is checked against an algorithm, which provides an automatic assessment of whether enough velocity has been reached to count as a step. These components measure how much the wearable moves, not the person. Shaking one’s wrist very quickly can sometimes create a “step,” while walking in place might not count steps.

2. Some skin tones don’t ‘work’ as well as others

Blood oxygen sensors have become incorporated into many smartwatches. They use a process called photoplethysmography, which uses tiny green LED lights on the underside of a smartwatch to track how blood flows through your wrist.

In 2022, a lawsuit alleged Apple was perpetuating racial bias, as its blood oxygen sensors didn’t work as well on darker skin. The case was dismissed, partly because these limitations of blood oxygen sensors have been known to researchers and medical practitioners for years. In other words, it is accepted that some features will not work as well for some people.

3. Your location may not be a secret

There’s an entire industry made up of people called data brokers who buy large datasets from technology companies and then sell them to advertisers, market analysts or other groups that may be interested in acquiring them.

While some companies have taken more steps to reduce or eliminate the sharing of data with third parties, and government agencies have offered strategies for users to limit location sharing, others may still share data among affiliates and service providers.

It’s important to check all settings for options to reduce or eliminate data sharing. Otherwise, your private information might not remain private for long. In 2018, for example, the exercise app Strava released a “heat map” showing the running and cycling routes of all its users through the location data it had collected – and accidentally disclosed the location of multiple secret military bases around the world.

4. Wearables for consumers aren’t medical grade

With wearables, as with other tech, it’s important to look carefully at the terms of use.

Most devices include boilerplate language about how the data they provide the wearer should be used recreationally and not replace formal diagnostics from doctors. Even though Apple has received FDA clearance for some of its health testing features and they may be quite useful for monitoring purposes, if you’re relying on data for health purposes, it’s important to consult a doctor.

5. Wearables can’t predict the future

OK, maybe this seems like it should be obvious. But it’s not.

Oura Ring, which pioneered measurements such as “restfulness” that try to measure how well you sleep, recently added a “symptom radar” to try to detect when you might be getting sick.

These technologies use sensors such as heart rate monitors and thermometers to detect changes in a wearer’s baseline. While these sickness forecasts may be helpful, they’re like weather reports for the body, detecting changes in the body’s internal atmosphere using available sensors and algorithms. Any claim to predict the future is based on looking for patterns in information from the past.

While wearable tech can offer powerful insights, understanding how devices work is crucial for making sense of the data they produce. A little skepticism goes a long way: It can challenge inflated promises and protect users. In the end, wearables are best understood as interesting but imperfect tools − not magic wands.

James Gilmore does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

New recommendations for regulating neurotechnology in Canada include protecting Indigenous rights

Sun, 11 May 2025 06:35:45 -0500

Advances in neurotechnology, including AI applications, need to be regulated. (Shutterstock)

With Canada’s federal election behind us, we can now focus on a renewed commitment to our values and to economic growth. Both entail a commitment to the health and well-being of Canadians.

Brain health in particular has taken on new meanings over the past years, and has garnered substantial recent attention from major international organizations such as UNESCO and the World Health Organization.

Once centred on finding treatments for conditions that affect the nervous system such as movement disorders and epilepsy, neurotechnology is evolving.

Advances involve implantable technologies, such as deep brain stimulation (DBS). Other examples include responsive neurostimulation and stimulation of the vagus nerve.

The market in non-invasive and wearable devices is also growing. These technologies aim to address mental health disorders and improve quality of life for people suffering from conditions like chronic depression and post-traumatic stress disorders.

Combined with AI, these brain technologies are also finding their way into the non-medical lives of Canadians for personal use, education, workplace and entertainment.

Recommendations for neurotechnology

The finalized version of the UNESCO ethics recommendation for neurotechnology will be negotiated during the week of May 12. This will prepare the way for its formal adoption this fall by the 194 member states.

The recommendation carefully considers how neurotechnology can respect human dignity and the human rights of privacy, freedom of thought, data authenticity and protection, and justice. Other concerns pertaining to Indigeneity, marginalization, disability and vulnerability are touched upon.

If Canada adopts the recommendation, it could have far-reaching implications for Canadian citizens. It will influence — if not directly affect — federal funding and resource priorities and relevant government ministries. These include Health Canada, the Canadian Institutes of Health Research and the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada.

Canadian principles

In 2024, drawing upon the work of both Health Canada and the Working Party on Biotechnology, Nanotechnology and Converging Technologies of the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), a group of Canadian experts from medicine, law and public health delivered guidance for responsible innovation in neurotechnology.

These experts — including two of the authors of this article — strategically revised the original nine principles offered by the OECD into five tailored for Canada. These were: physical and personal safety and trust; societal deliberation and stewardship; global collaboration; strong oversight; and inclusivity and Indigeneity.

In April 2025, Indigenous and non-Indigenous members of the original UNESCO expert group published considerations to further safeguard against the risk of neurotechnology becoming an instrument of colonialism. These considerations include access to neurotechnologies for the relief of neurological conditions, as well as for their adoption in research, industry and daily life guided by the values and rights of Indigenous Peoples about brain health and wellness.

They included strategies for informed consent processes that align with Indigenous perspectives, and transparency about the use, storage and collection of neural data. Recommendations were also made for investments in digital infrastructure and literacy, and paths to intellectual property protections suitable to holistic and collective knowledge.

Trust in science

The behind-the-scenes efforts that led to the UNESCO ethics recommendation must come to the forefront.

In October 2024, a Bioethics Council for Canada/Le Conseil canadien de bioéthique (BCC-CCB) was legally constituted to provide independent advice to the Canadian government and public. Building on the lessons learned from 140 bioethics councils worldwide, Canada’s new BCC-CCB is poised to ensure that the public’s trust in science is central to the federal government’s mission.

Trust must be a renewed theme in matters pertaining to brain health and brain data, alongside other advances that will affect future generations. This trust will mitigate the noise and confusion surrounding us in a time of rapid technological progress, and foster leadership that an informed Canada can provide.

Judy Illes served as a Member of the Ad Hoc Expert Advisory Group on the Ethics of Neurotechnology Recommendation at UNESCO.

Jennifer Chandler is an external advisory board member for InBrain Neuroelectronics.

Vardit Ravitsky is President and CEO of The Hastings Center for Bioethics, a research center based in NY, USA.

Bartha Knoppers and Ross Upshur do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

Digital clones of real models are revolutionizing fashion advertising

Wed, 07 May 2025 08:51:27 -0500

Driven by advances in artificial intelligence (AI) and metaverse technologies, digital clones are transforming fast-fashion marketing. Always available, ageless and adaptable to any setting, these virtual figures enable brands to create immersive, cost-effective campaigns that resonate with today’s digital-first consumers.

Virtual influencers — digitally created personas used to provide entertainment, generate content and endorse brands — are becoming increasingly influential, especially among Gen Z and digital-first audiences.

These virtual figures vary in form: some, like Lil Miquela and Shudu, are entirely computer-generated, while others, such as Hatsune Miku, incorporate human elements like voice or motion.

Hybrid influencers blend real and virtual components, allowing for brand-specific customization. These virtual influencers boost brand visibility, drive engagement and influence market performance.

Real persons, virtual personas

The estimate for global influencer market size for 2024 was valued at over US$24 billion and is projected to grow to over US$32 billion in 2025. The rise of virtual influencers is particularly prominent in Asia.

This trend is also reshaping the US$2.5 trillion modelling industry, according to The Business of Fashion. AI-generated avatars and digital clones enable brands to cut production costs and accelerate campaign development. As a result, companies such as Levi Strauss & Co. are partnering with AI modelling firms to integrate these virtual personas into their marketing strategies.

Digital twins

Digital twins — virtual replicas of real people — are gaining traction in marketing to enhance personalization, streamline content creation and deepen customer engagement.

In the fashion world, they provide a means to maintain a sense of human connection while using AI for precision and volume purposes. Fast-fashion retailer H&M recently introduced AI-generated digital twins of real-life models for advertising and social media content. Positioned as a creative and operational aid rather than a replacement for human talent, the initiative has ignited industry-wide debate.

While the brand highlights the advantages — lower production costs and faster catalogue development — some critics have raised ethical concerns regarding representation and transparency.

These digital twins fall into the category of “front-of-camera” tools: static avatars used in visual content without independent personas or social media presence. Unlike virtual influencers, they do not interact with audiences or build followings. Instead, they function strictly as visual stand-ins for traditional models, who are compensated for the use of their likenesses, similar to conventional campaigns.

As these avatars do not speak, endorse or engage directly with consumers, they remain subject to traditional advertising regulations — not influencer marketing laws.

Digital models are used for operational efficiency: testing and refining creative strategies before rollout, reducing costs and potentially offering immersive digital experiences to enhance customer connection and brand loyalty.

Authenticity and other challenges

In July 2024, fast-fashion retailer Mango launched its first advertising campaign featuring AI-generated avatars to promote a limited-edition collection for teenaged girls.

These AI-generated influencers and digital twins introduce numerous ethical and legal challenges. These innovations raise difficult questions about the displacement of human talent — including models, make-up artists, hairstylists and photographers — and broader implications for creative industries.

Key concerns centre on consent and compensation. The unauthorized use of an individual’s likeness, even in digital form, poses a risk of exploitation and underscores the importance of clear standards and protections. The legal landscape regarding image rights and intellectual property is still evolving, which makes compliance both essential and complex.

As the lines between reality and digital fabrication blur, brands risk eroding consumer trust. The authenticity that audiences value can be undermined if AI-generated content seems deceptive or inauthentic.

Companies must tread carefully, balancing innovation with transparency.

Diversity is another critical issue. While AI offers customization, it can also perpetuate biases or create an illusion of inclusivity without genuine representation.

An Associated Press report on AI models and diversity.

As the use of AI proliferates, ensuring that digital models support, rather than hinder, meaningful advancement in representation will be essential.

Ultimately, brands must implement ethical frameworks to ensure that AI enhances creativity while maintaining integrity, inclusivity and legal accountability.

Strategic considerations

Digital clones provide fast-fashion brands with a powerful tool to create personalized shopping experiences and enable greater representation of diverse body types and style preferences. This degree of customization can significantly enhance customer satisfaction and brand loyalty.

To ensure ethical integration, transparency is crucial. Brands must clearly disclose when digital models appear in campaigns. These digital representations should encompass a wide variety of demographics to genuinely promote inclusivity and engage with a broader audience.

Establishing ethical and legal safeguards is equally important. Creating digital clones requires explicit consent and careful attention to intellectual property rights. Without clear guidelines and permissions, brands risk violating privacy, misusing likenesses and facing legal repercussions.

Luana Carcano does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

DOGE’s AI surveillance risks silencing whistleblowers and weakening democracy

Wed, 30 Apr 2025 12:06:32 -0500

The United States Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) is reportedly using artificial intelligence to surveil federal agency communications for anti-Donald Trump and anti-Elon Musk sentiment.

AI tools now automate firings and assess U.S. federal employees’ sentiment and alignment with the administration’s “mission.” Musk, who has been appointed a “special government employee” by the U.S. president and leads DOGE, has framed these moves as an attempt to cut waste and increase efficiency.

At least one agency, the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), has reportedly warned staff to watch what they say, type or do online.

The move has been largely overshadowed by tariff debates and constitutional concerns. But research on AI and governance suggests surveillance may erode the transparency that defines public institutions.

Now, with Musk signalling he may scale back his involvement with DOGE, questions remain about how the system will operate in his absence — and whether anyone will be tasked with dismantling it.

Disruption replaces due process

Musk has presented DOGE as a lean, tech-driven solution to government bloat — a message he has repeated in interviews and on social media. Artificial intelligence, he argues, can cut red tape, trim costs and optimize operations.

However, within federal agencies, AI has been used less to support public servants than to evaluate them — and in some cases, to eliminate them.

Since DOGE assumed control over key functions within the Office of Personnel Management in January, hundreds of federal employees have been dismissed without formal explanation. DOGE also restricted access to cloud systems and sidelined career officials.

DOGE was established by Trump through an executive order on Jan. 20, 2025 and tasked with cutting federal spending. (Shutterstock)

Concerns over data security soon followed. In March, a federal judge barred DOGE from accessing Treasury systems, citing a “chaotic and haphazard” approach that posed a “realistic danger” of exposing sensitive financial information.

Internally, DOGE operates through tools more familiar to startups than government agencies. Staff use disappearing messages via the Signal messenger app and draft documents in Google Docs rather than approved federal platforms.

Grok, a generative AI chatbot launched by Musk in 2023, has been integrated across departments, though its tasks remain unclear.

How Doge’s AI targets workers

Earlier this year, thousands of federal employees received an email from the Office of Personnel Management asking them to provide five bullet points listing what they accomplished that week. “Failure to respond,” Musk warned on X, “will be taken as a resignation.”

The message triggered uncertainty across departments. Without clear legal guidance, many workers were left guessing whether silence would mean termination. The Department of Justice and several intelligence agencies warned staff not to respond.

Others, like the U.S Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) and Department of Transportation, instructed staff to comply with DOGE’s requests. HHS later warned responses could “be read by malign foreign actors.” The EPA distributed template responses to help staff navigate the demand.

The following week, the Office of Personnel Management clarified participation was voluntary. By then, responses had already been processed.

DOGE reportedly planned to feed the responses into a large language model to determine whether an employee was mission-critical. Musk later denied this, describing the exercise as a test “to see if the employee had a pulse.”

DOGE’S algorithms judge allegiance

According to reports, DOGE’s AI tools have now been deployed across agencies to monitor political sentiment of workers. There is no indication that these systems otherwise assess employee competence or efficacy.

Trump administration officials reportedly said some government employees have been informed that DOGE is examining staff for signs of perceived disloyalty to both the Trump administration and Musk himself.

When AI is used in this way — without transparency or clear performance frameworks — it optimizes for compliance rather than capability.

AI designed to detect dissent offers little support for the work of public service. Rather than recognizing expertise or ethical judgment, these tools reduce complex decision-making to surface-level signs of loyalty.

Effective collaboration between humans and AI depends on clear boundaries. AI might complement the public service by identifying patterns in data, for example. Humans though must retain authority over context and judgment. When AI polices allegiance, those boundaries collapse, sidelining human skill and integrity.

AI surveillance rewrites workplace behaviour

The inherent limitations of large language models amplify these risks. These models cannot reliably read nuance, navigate ethical grey areas or understand intent. Assigning surveillance or employee evaluations to these systems invites errors.

Worse, such blunt tools force civil servants into self-censorship to avoid misinterpretation. Public service shifts from informed expertise to performative alignment.

For employees, the consequences extend beyond flawed assessments. AI surveillance deployed through tools like Grok and Signal creates uncertainty about how performance is measured and by whom.

As surveillance systems degrade psychological safety, employees disengage and become discouraged. Far from enhancing productivity, covert monitoring erodes trust in both management and mission.

This atmosphere weakens accountability. Whistle-blowing often reflects loyalty to institutional values rather than defiance. By reframing personal beliefs and integrity as disloyalty, DOGE will silence mechanisms that safeguard transparency.

AI surveillance becomes institutional

Musk recently announced his involvement at DOGE “will drop significantly”, likely beginning in May. The move is attributed in part to pressure from Republicans urging Trump to distance himself from Musk, as well as pressure from Tesla investors.

Despite his expected departure, around 100 DOGE employees — and the AI frameworks they manage — will remain embedded across federal departments. Musk’s departure may shift headlines, but it will leave structural risks embedded within federal operations.

Once governments adopt new surveillance tools, they rarely dismantle them, regardless of whether their architect stays to oversee them. With no clear formal oversight beyond presidential discretion, the surveillance system is likely to outlast Musk’s tenure.

Employees monitored for political conformity are less likely to raise concerns, report misconduct or challenge flawed directives.

As human resource protocols are bypassed and oversight is diminished, the balance could shift from policy grounded in principle to regulations grounded in algorithms. Governance risks giving way to control, which could weaken the political neutrality of the civil service.

Thomas Stuart does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

As Police Scotland bring in body-worn video, our research shows little is known about its effectiveness

Mon, 28 Apr 2025 11:32:42 -0500

John Gomez/Shutterstock

By autumn 2026, all frontline officers of the UK’s second largest police force will be expected to wear a camera while on duty, at a cost of over £13 million.

Police Scotland is one of the last forces in the UK to employ this technology nationally. It has been a requirement for armed officers in Scotland since it hosted the UN climate conference, Cop26, in 2021. Devon and Cornwall Police ran the first body-worn trial in Plymouth some 20 years ago.

The use of this technology was recommended by Lady Elish Angiolini (currently lord clerk register of Scotland) who led a 2020 independent review of complaints and misconduct in Scottish policing. The report argued that body-worn cameras have the potential to significantly reduce complaints against the police.

In theory, being late to the party means Police Scotland is in a position of strength. They can adopt recognised best practice from other police forces in the UK, while steering clear of mistakes. But our review of the evidence reveals how little is really known about the effectiveness of this technology.

Body-worn video promises to aid in evidence gathering, which can be used to support investigations and prosecutions. It is also seen to provide a level of personal protection for police officers, and increased transparency and accountability when it comes to police behaviour or misconduct.

But there are still uncertainties about its actual impact on society. The evidence base is relatively mixed and ambiguous, with mostly small-scale studies and anecdotal evidence.

Survey research shows there is significant public support for police using body-worn video, but this is mainly shaped by the technology’s perceived benefits.

Does body-worn video work?

Body-worn video is now commonplace in policing around the world. It is also seen to be critical equipment for security guards, traffic wardens and prison officers. It is even used by football referees, ticket inspectors, delivery drivers and healthcare and retail workers.

While it is now commonplace, there is a notable lack of robust evidence about the consequences of its use. A lot rests on the assumptions about what the technology will do.

There are no reliable measures capturing any reduction in violent incidents or levels of complaints about police behaviour.

There are many uncertainties about body-worn video’s effectiveness. Loch Earn/Shutterstock

An argument for the use of body-worn video is that it creates “objective” recorded accounts of interactions between police and citizens. In theory, the recordings can provide irrefutable proof about what happened, which in turn will enhance confidence in policing.

The Scottish Police Authority notes that video recordings can streamline the process of resolving complaints against officers. It also can enhance the quality of evidence and “reduces the number of officers required to attend court” in investigations.

However, the issue remains that officers may use their discretion to turn the cameras on or off. In 2023, a BBC investigation revealed more than 150 reports of camera misuse by officers in England and Wales. Forces need processes in place to prevent this and to hold officers accountable, or the digital account of an interaction will always be determined by the police.

There is some evidence that body-worn video can exacerbate existing racial tensions. Research from North America suggests minority groups do not believe that police body-worn video will make the police more accountable or transparent, and that they instead reinforce existing power structures in society. This can fracture already strained relations with the police.

Surveillance concerns

There are technical, legal and ethical challenges emerging from the capture and processing of personal data.

New body-worn video units, including those purchased by Police Scotland, also have the technical capability to integrate facial recognition software. If deployed, this would mean that the technology is no longer about a retrospective account of events, but a tool for live identity matching. This would significantly change the purpose and scope of the technology and how the police interact with citizens.

Live facial recognition divides opinion and is seen to discriminate against women and minority ethnic groups. There are also concerns about its effectiveness.

As we found in our research, police forces across the UK have different procedures for using this technology, and for holding officers accountable.

A few UK forces have set up technology-specific oversight mechanisms, for example independent scrutiny panels that include members of the public. But these mechanisms are the exception, not the norm. In Scotland, scrutiny will take place via the Scottish Police Authority using existing arrangements.

While we commend Police Scotland for the due caution they have exercised in delaying the national roll-out of this technology, our view is that technology-specific protocols and oversight mechanisms need to be in place at the earliest possible opportunity.

Police need to be trained properly in the operation of cameras or they risk capturing inappropriate personal data and encroaching on citizens’ privacy expectations.

William Webster has previously received funding from the Scottish Institute for Policing Research to undertake an evidence review into the police use of BWV.

Diana Miranda received funding from SIPR (Scottish Institute for Policing Research), and ESRC (Economic and Social Research Council) to investigate emerging policing technologies, namely body-worn video.