Yes, I was fossicking through someone else’s wheely bin, but I was not being subversive about it. It was broad daylight and the air around me was being displaced by some loud expletives.
Nor was I in California where Harry and Meghan hang out, going through their rubbish to find something grubby not already shared publicly. Be grateful I have spared (ba dum tsh!) you that.
It was my neighbour’s recycling bin, and I was suspicious about its contents.
The neighbour concerned lives in the North Island but the house is let to holiday-makers during times when the owners are not visiting. These tourists fend for themselves and, from time to time, they put out the recycling bin.
Great. Except over the weeks it takes to fill the bin, the understanding of what may be put in it for recycling seems to wax and wane.
I delved into the detritus as far as I could, removing items which should not have been there and assigning them to my own rubbish bag or glass recycling bin. (I didn’t want to do a Jason Gunn and injure myself by leaping in or out of the bin.)
Later, I made a sign for the lid advising future users of what should be placed within and returned said bin to the neighbour’s property.
Whether such behaviour should be seen as busybodyism of the worst kind or an attempt to do something for the public good is debatable.
Perhaps it was the whiff of rotting food which got me thinking anew about the whole business of data gathering, and how much of that is busybodyism which at best may be an unnecessary intrusion into our lives and at worst something that might put our privacy at risk and impact our lives in ways we might not realise.
Is gathering of our data in its myriad forms by organisations both public and private, and analysis and use of that data, always necessary or in the public good? And, like my neighbour, who up until now has remained ignorant of my rubbish reconnaissance mission, how often are we kept in the dark about what’s being collected and how it might affect us.
How frequently are we blase about the whole subject, a bit like holidaymakers not too bothered about what they might leave behind in a place to which they may never return?
The "nothing to hide, nothing to fear" maxim is all very well until you are wrongly identified as a criminal, someone steals your identity or the state subjects you to unnecessary interference.
As with recycling, there is also the issue of a lack of uniformity with the way this is done, so knowing what happens in one area might give us a false sense of reassurance about what happens in another.
One area of data gathering which hit the headlines several times last year was that involving biometric information. (The Privacy Commissioner describes biometric technology as that involving the automatic recognition of people based on their biological or behavioural features. This could include analysing people’s faces, eyes (iris or retina), fingerprints, voices, signatures, keystroke patterns, odours, or even the way they walk.)
Because it is personal information, it is regulated by the Privacy Act, but there has been concern greater and more specific controls are needed around it and, after an initial consultation last year, Privacy Commissioner Michael Webster announced in December he would be exploring a code to regulate biometrics in 2023.
He has yet to decide whether a Code of Practice for Biometrics is the way to go, but will be consulting on this and expects to make a decision this year.
What is vital with issues such as this, and others including the use of algorithms in public and private organisations, is that there is much better engagement with us all.
This is both so we understand the risks and benefits of these technologies and how and when we may opt out of involvement with them, and those involved with using them recognise that a free-for-all is not acceptable. Moving fast and breaking things might have been a mantra which Facebook could get away with, but times should have changed.
Without much better appreciation by all of what is required things could get messy, much like my neighbour’s recycling bin.
- Elspeth McLean is a Dunedin writer.