There is a private space that each of us has when we are in public: it is a mental space between the conscious and unconscious, a state between vulnerable and secure. It exists only when you feel safe enough to let down your guard. It is a comfortable space that allows daydreaming, thinking, zoning out and observing, whether you are in a museum or a café, on the subway or a quiet street. Your private space allows you to be completely yourself; thinking the thoughts you want to think, wearing the clothes you want to wear. It is a particularly American privilege; the right to be, uniquely, who you are, wherever you are.

For me, that vulnerability is what a democracy protects. But living in a democracy also means being part of a constant balancing act. One of the most basic conundrums in a democracy is the tug-of-war between the protection and the erosion of that right to privacy. We want our freedom of privacy, but we also want to feel safe. This conflict gets worse when it becomes difficult to decipher who among us is a threat. It could be anyone.

We live in the Era of Surveillance. Our tools for monitoring one another are ubiquitous and sophisticated. Google the phrase “video surveillance” and you’ll find 10,500,000 ways of spying and being spied upon.

A Newsweek Web exclusive by Jessica Bennett in March 2006 reported: “New York City... has a network of cameras that reaches far into the thousands, spanning subway stations, traffic signals, overhead awnings and private businesses. The Metropolitan Transit Authority (plans) to add 1,000 smart cameras to the system’s already 3,000-camera-strong surveillance system... The New York City Police Department operates an additional 3,000 cameras.

“Bill Brown, a kind of amateur surveillance-camera spotter, estimates the total number of cameras in New York City to exceed 15,000—a figure city officials say they have no way to verify because they lack a system of registry.”

Because of 9/11, privacy and protection are in heightened conflict with each other. Think back to the McCarthy era, when we were faced with the Russian (“Commie”) threat, and extreme measures were taken, resulting in the erosion of civil liberties. Everyone was a potential suspect, and anything from one’s choice of clothing to one’s choice of friends could result in either being left alone or being called into court.

But contrary to what we constantly hear on the news, the government is no longer the primary culprit when it comes to invasion of privacy. With the aid of ordinary and extraordinary technology, many people are conducting surveillance of their own, and their purpose is to find an incident or fact that will serve their personal goals. These may be positive, such as catching a terrorist or a thief. They may be nefarious, like identifying a wealthy or weak victim to stalk and rob or kidnap. They may be subtle incursions, like collecting data for marketing purposes. Or the surveillance camera may be yours, protecting your family by watching the nanny while you’re at work (where, by the way, your boss may be monitoring you).

A few months ago while crossing the street at 57th and Lexington in Manhattan, I saw a huge sign in the Kenneth Cole store window that said, “You are on a video camera over 20 times a day. Are you dressed for it?” Clever, I thought, enjoying their quasi-political ad campaign. Thanks to the invasion and reaches of reality TV, you’d better look good—anytime, anywhere.

Later that day, I read an article in a travel magazine. It suggested that, while traveling, one should wear “nice” shoes. Doing so, the author wrote, would increase one’s chances of being treated well. I thought again of the Kenneth Cole statement.

On the surface, “Are you dressed for it?” is asking, “Do you look good enough to be on TV?” But on a more insidious level, it is asking, “Do you look suspicious? Will you be singled out?”

If you do not want to be noticed while you are under video surveillance, then it’s best to wear clothes that do not call attention. Do not stand out. Attempt to be a bit more invisible. The best way to be invisible, as any chameleon will tell you, is to conform. Blend in; try to look like everyone else around you.

And this is my fear. We will conform.

In her excellent essay titled “Private Lives, Public Spaces” (Dissent magazine Winter 2003) Molly Smithsimon writes, “awareness that we are being watched by surveillance cameras can put us in a ‘constant state of apprehension and self-consciousness whenever we are out in public.’ Sociologist Steven Flusty aptly calls this monitored public space ‘jittery space.’”

What happens when we begin to curtail ourselves so that we will not be singled out? What happens when we get so tired of looking over our shoulders, so burdened by the worry of being watched, that subtle changes begin to seep in? Our vulnerability is lost, replaced by a careful, as opposed to carefree, identity.

After reading this column, I suggest that you spend the rest of the day imagining that you are under constant watch by wildly different sources, like government officials, drug dealers and corporate marketing firms. Remember that each of those entities may be saving, manipulating, sending and/or selling your recorded movements and activities.

Then, be aware of any tendency to self-edit your activities, for fear of how they may be recorded for someone else’s interpretation or manipulation. Are you protecting yourself by consciously (or unconsciously) altering your life and habits?

Finally, think about what it would mean to lose that precious, private, vulnerable space, where your thoughts were free and roaming and curious and lazy and inspired. What would it be like to feel that you always had to wear nice shoes?

© 2006 W. Richmond