I am Legend

Every man’s heart one day beats its final beat, his lungs breathe their final breath. And if what that man did in his life makes the blood pulse through the body of others, and makes them bleed deeper, than something larger than life, then his essence, his spirit, will be immortalised by the storytellers, by the loyalty, by the memory of those who honour him and make the running the man did live forever. – The Ultimate Warrior

Mass surveillance? I’ve nothing to hide.

Free Is Better‘You have nothing to worry about if you’ve done nothing wrong’ is the response many people use to scorn those concerned by the scale of modern mass surveillance.



And this is the best response such ignorance:

You’re giving up your rights. Your rights matter because you never know when you’ll need them. People should be able to pick up the phone and call their family, should be able to send a text message to their loved one, buy a book online, without worrying how this could look to a government possibly years in the future. We have a right to privacy. Trusting anybody, any government authority with the entirety of human communications, in secret, without oversight, is simply too great a temptation to be ignored.

The best of intentions can always be corrupted by the self-interest of the dominant group, and the individual will suffer. An individual’s right to privacy, and a right to be forgotten are both sacrosanct in the digital age.

Reality Distortion

Social networking distorts relationships, similar to how the London underground can distort your perception of distances; if you’re new to the city, your sense of how far things are is compromised. And so it is with social media.

But Juanita never comes to the Black Sun anymore. Partly, she’s pissed at Da5id and the other hackers who never appreciated her work. But she has also decided that the whole thing is bogus. That no matter how good it is, the Metaverse is distorting the way people talk to each other, and she wants no such distortion in her relationships.
– Neal Stephenson, Snowcrash