The inhumane face of surveillance

How surveillance erodes trust and autonomy in modern society

In the twenty-first century, there has been no technological development more insidious than surveillance. A mere 50 years ago, CCTV was still in its infancy and limited to only a few government-owned locations. At the time, one could shop without a care in the world for who may be watching because nobody was. But, by 2023, $200 billion was spent globally on surveillance and network security. Today, visiting public spaces involves countless unavoidable CCTV cameras always watching while phones act as a tracking beacon for advertisers, social media algorithms, AI, and the government. Although such measures are promoted in the name of law and order, does being a part of mass surveillance systems strip away a sense of humanity?

When asking fundamental questions regarding our humanity, philosophising is inevitable. On this topic, many would view the growth in surveillance with satisfaction. The greatest example of someone who holds this opinion is Jeremy Bentham. Bentham founded utilitarianism, arguing that morally good actions are ones that benefit the greatest number of people. To Bentham, this idea lent itself to surveillance. To illustrate, he designed the Panopticon, or the idea of the inspection principle. In this scenario, Bentham argued that for people to pursue a life of humane pleasure, they needed a system of constant surveillance to prevent them from causing pain. Thus, he developed the concept of a central surveillance system that watches people constantly. This idea is illustrated through the example of prisoners. To avoid punishment, the prisoners then ‘inspect themselves’ and live a life of pleasure rather than one that causes others pain.

Furthermore, Michael Foucault, a more contemporary philosopher who witnessed the beginning of the surveillance state, believed in its ability to replace the “sovereign power” of the state. In this manner, surveillance systems would create a “disciplinary power” that, through its constant watchful eye, would ‘normalize people.’ Like almost any philosopher, Foucault was preoccupied with the idea of what makes us humane, and to him, one’s humanity stemmed from an ability to maintain “rational, self-control.” To obtain such control, he believed in the need for a robust surveillance state that expanded upon the Panopticon Bentham championed. Both these philosophers took a pessimistic view of humanity in which we cannot be trusted to regulate our own nature, and thus, must use surveillance to ‘regulate’ ourselves, regain our humanity, and prevent anarchy.

However, I find three crucial issues with this view. The first and most crucial comes down to trust. Take the example of a romantic couple. They may trust each other enough to allow others to use their phones without supervision. But if one member of the couple oversteps their mark, perhaps texting someone they shouldn’t have in their place, there will be a breakdown in trust. Surveillance works in the same way. When protestors campaign around the university, there is very rarely a sense of trust between protestors and Campus Security, who have previously been accused of “false arrest and intentional infliction of mental suffering.” Student protestors become suspicious of a university they believe does not have their best interests at heart—thereby deepening the divide between them.

If campus police do not trust protestors, it is likely due to their fear of danger, which leads us to the issue at hand. Mass surveillance is based on the assumption that someone will do something wrong and the authorities must be ready to stop and record it. Yet, this can often be without cause. Most people would agree that heavy surveillance is crucial in places with large gatherings of people, such as airports, shopping centres, or sports stadiums, as there have been tragedies that would’ve been prevented through better surveillance. However, in campus life and during campus protests, there is not the same precedent. Even when specific language during recent pro-Palestinian protests overstepped the mark and could be considered hate speech, mass surveillance would have made no difference to the language that was used. Labeling protesters as dangerous before any action is taken sets a troubling precedent—one that dehumanizes individuals in favour of control.

Behind every surveillance system is an authority. Can this authority be trusted? Under Elon Musk, Twitter (X) claims to be a bastion of free speech. Yet, it is closer to becoming a modern-day Panopticon. Political accounts to the left of the political spectrum have found their pages pushed back in favour of Musk’s account, which now sits at the top of all Twitter feeds. Thus, Musk becomes a grand authority on surveillance, watching over Twitter to ensure it conforms to his view. Therefore, this raises the question of who can be trusted with surveillance if it is so important. The summer protestors seem to have little faith in the university hierarchy, so who could have watched them instead? It seems there is no clear answer. Surveillance can only be justified if the authorities overseeing it have the people’s best and ethical interests at heart. If they do not, it becomes inhumane.

Surveillance will always have a place in today’s technological world as it can be crucial for preventing terrorist attacks and maintaining peace. Nevertheless, mass surveillance reflects a fundamental lack of trust in the goodness of humanity and a desire to shape how people act. It denies any form of free will in the name of social conformity,—which is bound to affect marginalized groups and minorities disproportionately. Surveillance must be used for protection, not to mould human nature as Bentham or Musk desires.