For politicians, other forces are at work. One is the impulse to transform themselves from staunch civil libertarians into spymasters the instant they form a government. Suddenly, no amount of private information is ever enough in the name of public security, and no item of information is ever sacrosanct. Like the corporations they are, of course, utterly trustworthy.
One cliche has it that an obsession with security stems from insecurity. When it becomes obvious that banks, not governments, run the world, those who are supposed to govern look for other things they can control. The domestic population usually tops the list. We give huge amounts of information freely, so why not give a bit more? If it makes sense for your GP to keep your medical records, why not give MI5 the information that will keep you safe from terrorists? And if you've done nothing wrong, why worry if they want a look at your Facebook usage?
That would depend on the definition of "wrong", of course. It also depends on the belief that only the agents of government are fit to judge the information they need to know. Then comes that small democratic detail. If knowledge is power, how much knowledge should be granted to the state when it can't or won't name the uses to which information will be put?
Once upon a time I would have added privacy to that list. Nowadays, I'm not so sure. If a politician shouts "terrorism", most people won't bother to argue. Since hundreds of millions of them across the planet surrender their privacy daily to Facebook and the rest, most of them won't even care. In this century, to paraphrase Zuckerberg, privacy doesn't matter.
It's just a few photographs to share with your mates. It's just a tweet that might be a bit embarrassing on the morning after. It's just a ton of information tracing every detail of your life on a government server that is – isn't it? – absolutely secure. Paranoia makes no sense.
This begins to look like capitalism's next phase, achieved with the willing co-operation – the uninhibited enthusiasm – of the masses while governments hitch a ride. Partly it's conditioning: see how the queues form whenever Apple punts a new toy. Partly it's technological drift: try to work without access to email. The largest part of it, though, is something new. It is the belief that nothing personal matters enough to be worth protecting.
To misuse an old Lou Reed song, our children are growing up in public. Reed was singing, quaintly, about mere celebrities. Now it's everyone, the millions tweeting and blogging and, above all, "sharing". To share is to exist. To be out of contact is to be invisible. It is imperative to display yourself. If the information involved doesn't matter to you, why should you care what Mark Zuckerberg does with it? Or your elected government.
When the internet first began, its pioneers talked dreamily of global communities and virtual democracies. They didn't see Facebook coming, nor the corporatisation of the word "social", nor the day when privacy would be regarded as suspicious by elected governments. Among those truly dedicated to social media, meanwhile, a person who aims to remain private is a recluse. Zuck was right again: there is a new "norm". That's handy for the security services.
Privacy is identity. In my (non-Face) book, the private person is the person you truly are. Give that away, daily and nightly – give it away to a corporation or a government, indeed – and you disappear into the collective, beloved of SF writers. We needn't resort to fiction, though. The plain phrase "my business" sums it up. But I think I am being outvoted, and outvoted overwhelmingly.
While I have been writing, a piece of software – yes, I spot the irony – has been removing 21 tracking cookies from the laptop. It's a daily ritual, and pointless. Like Schwarzenegger, they'll be back. It's part of the price we pay for all that lovely freedom. The rest of the price has yet to be calculated.
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