Mass surveillance: an “insurance policy”

I was struck by this passage in an admirable blog post by Ray Corrigan.

The latest from the NSA is that they now seem to be admitting (in spite of previous claims that this mass surveillance stopped 54 major terror attacks it didn’t really stop any, but may possibly have provided secondary supportive evidence in relation to one) that the best argument they can come up with is mass data collection might be useful as an “insurance policy”. What?! An insurance policy?! The infrastructure of mass surveillance might be useful in the future, somehow, to someone?

The relevant passage in the NSA testimony reads:

While Inglis conceded in his NPR interview that at most one terrorist attack might have been foiled by NSA’s bulk collection of all American phone data – a case in San Diego that involved a money transfer from four men to al-Shabaab in Somalia – he described it as an “insurance policy” against future acts of terrorism.

“I’m not going to give that insurance policy up, because it’s a necessary component to cover a seam that I can’t otherwise cover,” Inglis said.

Reflections on the revolution in automobiles

As readers of my newspaper column know, I think that it would be hard to overestimate the significance of Google’s self-driving car. This is not because I expect to find autonomous vehicles on our roads any time soon, but because it signals an urgent need to revise our assumptions about what machines can and cannot do.

If you’d asked me ten years ago what tasks would lie beyond the capacity of computers I would confidently have included driving safely in a crowded urban environment in my list. Brooding on this over the course of the last few months I was coming to think that perhaps this judgement might have been a reflection of my ignorance of robotics at the time. But then, reading Erik Brynjolfsson’s and Andrew McAfee’s new book, The Second Machine Age, I was pointed to a book by Frank Levy and Richard Murnane published in 2004 and entitled The New Division of Labor: How Computers Are Creating the Next Job Market, in which they focussed on the division between human and machine labour.

Levy and Murnane put information processing tasks on a spectrum

At one end are tasks like arithmetic that require only the application of well-understood rules. Since computers are really good at following rules, it follows that they should arithmetic and similar tasks. And not just arithmetic.

For example, a person’s credit score is a good general predictor of whether they’ll pay pack their mortgage as promised… So the decision about whether or not to give a mortgage can be effectively boiled down to a rule.

But Levy and Murnane thought that tasks involving pattern recognition would be beyond computers. And they cite driving a car as a paradigmatic example:

As the driver makes his left turn against traffic, he confronts a wall of images and sounds generated by oncoming cars, traffic lights, storefronts, billboards, trees, and a traffic policeman. Using his knowledge, he must estimate the size and position of each of these objects and the likelihood that they pose a hazard… Articulating this knowledge and embedding it in computer software for all but highly structures situations are at present enormously difficult talks… Computers cannot easily substitute for humans in [jobs like driving].

So I wasn’t the only person a decade ago who doubted that computers could drive.

This is the conjecture that the Google self-driving car refutes. There’s a terrific piece in the New Yorker about the genesis and execution of the Google project which, among other things, illuminates the height of the mountain that the Google team had to climb.

In the beginning, [Sergey] Brin and [Larry] Page presented Thrun’s team with a series of darpa-like challenges. They managed the first in less than a year: to drive a hundred thousand miles on public roads. Then the stakes went up. Like boys plotting a scavenger hunt, Brin and Page pieced together ten itineraries of a hundred miles each. The roads wound through every part of the Bay Area—from the leafy lanes of Menlo Park to the switchbacks of Lombard Street. If the driver took the wheel or tapped the brakes even once, the trip was disqualified. “I remember thinking, How can you possibly do that?” Urmson told me. “It’s hard to game driving through the middle of San Francisco.”

It took the team a year and a half to master Page and Brin’s ten hundred-mile road trips.

The first one ran from Monterey to Cambria, along the cliffs of Highway 1. “I was in the back seat, screaming like a little girl,” Levandowski told me. One of the last started in Mountain View, went east across the Dumbarton Bridge to Union City, back west across the bay to San Mateo, north on 101, east over the Bay Bridge to Oakland, north through Berkeley and Richmond, back west across the bay to San Rafael, south to the mazy streets of the Tiburon Peninsula, so narrow that they had to tuck in the side mirrors, and over the Golden Gate Bridge to downtown San Francisco. When they finally arrived, past midnight, they celebrated with a bottle of champagne. Now they just had to design a system that could do the same thing in any city, in all kinds of weather, with no chance of a do-over. Really, they’d just begun.

The Google car has now driven more than half a million miles without causing an accident, which is, says the New Yorker writer, Burkhard Bilger, about twice as far as the average American driver goes before crashing.

Of course, the computer has always had a human driver to take over in tight spots. Left to its own devices, Thrun says, it could go only about fifty thousand miles on freeways without a major mistake. Google calls this the dog-food stage: not quite fit for human consumption. “The risk is too high,” [Sebastian] Thrun says. “You would never accept it.” The car has trouble in the rain, for instance, when its lasers bounce off shiny surfaces.

Just for the record, this (human) driver also has trouble in the rain. I’ve been driving for over 40 years, and in that time have only had one minor accident (I ran into the car in front at about 5mph when disembarking from a car ferry), so on paper I’m a fairly competent driver. But when driving in Cambridge (a town full of cyclists) on wet dark winter’s nights I’m perpetually worried that I will not see a cyclist who’s not wearing reflective gear or a walker who suddenly rushes across a pedestrian crossing.

So one anecdote in the Bilger piece struck home. A Google engineer told him about driving one night on a dark country road when the car suddenly and inexplicably slowed down.

“I was thinking, What the hell? It must be a bug,” he told me. “Then we noticed the deer walking along the shoulder.” The car, unlike its riders, could see in the dark.

The other morning, after a cyclist suddenly appeared apparently from nowhere on a city crossing, I found myself thinking that I could really use a car with that kind of extra-sensory perception.

And of course this is how the fruits of the Google research and development will first appear — as extra sensors designed to alert human drivers. Volvo already do this in some of their models which detect when a car is veering across motorway lanes and infer that the driver may be getting sleepy. We will see a lot more of this before long. And I, for one, will welcome it.

The antisocial side of geek elitism

This morning’s Observer column.

Just under a year ago, Rebecca Solnit, a writer living in San Francisco, wrote a sobering piece in the London Review of Books about the Google Bus, which she viewed as a proxy for the technology industry just down the peninsula in Palo Alto, Mountain View and Cupertino.

“The buses roll up to San Francisco’s bus stops in the morning and evening,” she wrote, “but they are unmarked, or nearly so, and not for the public. They have no signs or have discreet acronyms on the front windshield, and because they also have no rear doors they ingest and disgorge their passengers slowly, while the brightly lit funky orange public buses wait behind them. The luxury coach passengers ride for free and many take out their laptops and begin their work day on board; there is of course Wi-Fi. Most of them are gleaming white, with dark-tinted windows, like limousines, and some days I think of them as the spaceships on which our alien overlords have landed to rule over us.”

The aesthetics of sloooooow motion photography

This astonishing, haunting video is the work of an extraordinary photographic artist, Adam Magyar. There’s a terrific profile of him by Joshua Hammer on Matter. For this video he persuaded the German manufacturer Optronis to lend him one of its $16,000, high-performance industrial video cameras—used in crash tests and robotic-arm studies. The Optronis shoots high-resolution images at astonishing speeds: up to 100,000 frames per second, compared to 24 frames per second in a traditional film camera.

Instead of standing on a platform shooting passengers speeding past him, Magyar now positioned himself inside the moving subway car, recording stationary commuters on the platform as train and camera rolled into the station. Again, the ghost of Einstein permeates these images, and again, he was warping time: Magyar shot the footage at 56 times normal speed, turning 12-second blurs into nearly 12-minute films of excruciating slowness.

Amazing stuff.

Why workers in neoliberal economies are set up to lose the ‘race against the machine’

As readers of this blog (and my Observer column) will know, Erik Brynjolfsson’s and Andrew McAfee’s Race Against the Machine has influenced the way I think about technology and our networked future. This talk by John Hagel presents an insightful gloss on the book’s analysis. Hagel argues that the reason so many modern jobs are so vulnerable to automation is that they have effectively been designed to be vulnerable. They tend to be “tightly scripted,” “highly standardized,” and leave no room for “individual initiative or creativity.” In short, these are the types of jobs that machines can perform much better at than human beings. So what effectively is going on is companies putting “a giant target sign on the backs of American workers”.

So every time you see a manager or administrator proudly unveiling a new paper or online form for imposing bureaucratic order on an organisational process that hitherto had been entrusted to human judgement, you will know where the targets are being affixed.

Nobody’s Son

Beautiful piece in the New Yorker by Mark Slouka about the death of his father. Stopped me in my tracks today. Maybe this will explain why:

It needs to be said: in some strange way, my father’s death has made the thought of dying easier. The door opened, and he walked through it successfully; the land of the dead is a peopled place for me now because he’s there, somewhere. And, because he’s done it, because he’s pulled this thing off, it’s become conceivable for me as well. Hell, if the old man can do it, I can do it.

It’s an unexpected gift, this release from fear—it’s like a gentling touch, a father’s voice. He lifts you onto his lap, presses your head to his chest, pets your hair. You can hear his heart. Sh-h-h, sh-h-h, it’s O.K., it’s O.K., it’s O.K., he says as your sobs begin to slow, then catch, then slow some more. Don’t cry. There’s nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all. We all must die. Accept, accept.

And I just might, except that this is not my father’s voice, which is as alive to me as anything in this world. This is something very different, a flowering as deceptive as cancer, blooming in the light of his loss. A flowering fed on self-pity and orphaned love.

Accept? My father was irritated by death, chafed at and ignored it. It was an annoyance, an inconvenience. He fought it to a standstill, refused the morphine of the ages. Harps and virgins? Please. Oblivion would do fine, thank you. In the meantime, there was injustice and stupidity to perforate, cruelty to expose, the absurd and gorgeous carnival of the world to watch going by.

“What is this sickly sentimentality?” he’d say to me, “this weakening at the knees? I was old. I died. It’s to be regretted—certainly by me—but so what? Think of me when you need to, that’s more than enough. Now pour me another and get out of here—don’t you have somewhere to go?”

Six months in, the heart, the soul, the spine, begin to regenerate. Slowly. In moments of weakness, his voice saves me, which is appropriate. He was my father. Is.

We need not just Orwell and Kafka to deal with the NSA story. We need Borges too.

The New York Times had a splendid editorial the other day, arguing the case for clemency for Edward Snowden, among other things.

Among the NSA violations unearth by the controversy, the editorial pointed out that the Snowden leaks

“revealed that James Clapper Jr, the director of national intelligence, lied to Congress when testifying in March that the NSA was not collecting data on millions of Americans. (There has been no discussion of punishment for that lie.)”

According to the Guardian_, this prompted Robert Litt, the general counsel to the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, to write to the _Times to deny the allegation. In his letter Litt refers to one of the key Senate advocates of NSA reform, Senator Ron Wyden, and continues:

“Senator Wyden asked about collection of information on Americans during a lengthy and wide-ranging hearing on an entirely different subject. While his staff provided the question the day before, Mr Clapper had not seen it. As a result, as Mr Clapper has explained, he was surprised by the question and focused his mind on the collection of the content of Americans’ communications. In that context, his answer was and is accurate.

“When we pointed out Mr Clapper’s mistake to him, he was surprised and distressed. I spoke with a staffer for Senator Wyden several days later and told him that although Mr Clapper recognized that his testimony was inaccurate, it could not be corrected publicly because the program involved was classified.”

Litt concluded: “This incident shows the difficulty of discussing classified information in an unclassified setting and the danger of inferring a person’s state of mind from extemporaneous answers given under pressure. Indeed, it would have been irrational for Mr. Clapper to lie at this hearing, since every member of the committee was already aware of the program.”

If you wanted a case study in why this kind of surveillance threatens democracy, then this is it.

Beyond gadgetry lies the real technology

This morning’s Observer column.

Cloud computing is a good illustration of why much media commentary about – and public perceptions of – information technology tends to miss the point. By focusing on tangible things – smartphones, tablets, Google Glass, embedded sensors, wearable devices, social networking services, and so on – it portrays technology as gadgetry, much as earlier generations misrepresented (and misunderstood) the significance of solid state electronics by calling portable radios “transistors”.

What matters, in other words, is not the gadget but the underlying technology that makes it possible. Cloud computing is what turns the tablet and the smartphone into viable devices.

Streaming kicks in

So the next phase begins. This Billboard report confirms that we’re on track to reach David Bowie’s prophetic insight (made in 2002) that one day music would be like water — available everywhere by turning a tap.

For the first time since the iTunes store opened its doors, the U.S. music industry finished the year with a decrease in digital music sales.

While the digital track sales decline had been expected due to weaker sales in the first three quarters, the digital album downturn comes as more of a surprise as the album bundle had started out the year with a strong first quarter.

Overall for the full year 2013, digital track sales fell 5.7% from 1.34 billion units to 1.26 billion units while digital album sales fell 0.1% to 117.6 million units from the previous year’s total of 117.7 million, according to Nielsen SoundScan.

While industry executives initially refused to attribute the early signs this year of digital sales weakness to the consumer’s growing appetite for streaming, in the second half of the year many were conceding that ad-supported and paid subscription services were indeed cannibalizing digital sales.