The Circle was a reminder of a
persistent personal concern of mine—one which I have long contemplated and
never resolved. My intended career path is likely to bring me face-to-face with
a tradeoff between preserving privacy and enhancing various aspects of life,
and I place great value in each of those interests. Although I am fascinated by
fields such as machine learning and interpretation of human-generated data, I
am also well aware of the ramifications of such work: even before reading The Circle, I encountered the same
concerns not only in other courses—Dr. Braitberg’s “Exploring Electronic
Presence” and “Cultures of Surveillance”—but also from interacting with my own
father, who is exceedingly, perhaps even excessively, careful about how he
allows his information to be collected and used. How, then, do I decide what
information to collect?
Deciding
how to weigh privacy against the benefits of knowledge, while necessary, is not
necessarily enough. Two or three years ago, I wrote a Java program to scan a
web page, collect data on how often pairs of words are used in conjunction vs.
separately, and then follow all links on the page and repeat. The idea was to
perform statistical tests in order to determine which words were being used
together on a regular basis. Now, this particular type of data collection could
only work when applied to a very large amount of material, making it fairly
benign to the privacy of the individual—at least on its own. Only afterward did
I realize the implications of such data when combined with more personal
information: if one knew the types of pages visited by an individual, one could
infer a great deal of information about an individual that he or she had never
directly shared. For example, if you frequent a particular news website, broad
information on the linguistic tendencies of that site could betray your
political sentiments and more. Such questionable possibilities stemming from an
innocuous concept worry me, particularly when extrapolated to more advanced
fields such as natural language processing and neural networks—both of which
are interests of mine.
In
addition to presenting the aforementioned privacy tradeoff, this dilemma can be
viewed as a conflict between accelerationism and a more Thoreau-like worldview.
I, personally, am drawn to these technologies not as much for their utility as
for the intellectual pursuits themselves—and for the future advancements they
may bring. My perspective as an aspiring software developer is thus markedly
accelerationist: advancement for the sake of advancement. On the consumer side,
however, things are rather different; I read an article just this morning
discussing how only 28% of Windows users make use of Microsoft’s digital assistant,
Cortana. While I knew that I didn’t use it, I hadn’t realized how small a
percentage of people did. As Thoreau put it, “We are in great haste to
construct a magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas; but Maine and Texas, it may
be, have nothing important to communicate.” Perhaps, at least for the time
being, there is less of a market for AI than developers assume. I doubt that
will stop anyone, though. It’s not likely to stop me.
Works Cited
Eggers,
Dave. The Circle. New York: Vintage
Books, 2013. Print.
Hachman,
Mark. “Windows 10's 500 million devices snub Cortana, impacting Microsoft's AI
push.” PCWorld. IDG Communications.
10 May 2017. Web. 10 May 2017.
Thoreau,
Henry David. Walden. Digital Thoreau. State University of New
York at Genesco, The Thoreau Society, and The Walden Woods Project, n.d. Web.
10 May 2017.
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