NO SECRETS

A fictional world without privacy — is it that far fetched?

A book I’m reading, The Circle, offers an interesting take on privacy and politics in the future. Since this is an election month, maybe it’s worth thinking about.

The book’s protagonist works at a cross between Google and Facebook — hip and uberrich. Healthcare is free. Food is free. Rent is free. And, of course, everyone wants to work there. The story is told through the eyes of a young woman who graduated from college, took a humdrum job in her hometown and promptly wished for more. A friend invites her to work at the nirvana company.

The company is called the Circle, and at first no one knows why. Eventually, it appears the Circle refers to a way of life — there’s nothing worth doing that doesn’t start and end with the company and its endless technological tentacles. The company’s biggest breakthrough involves convincing a single politician to “go transparent” wear a camera everywhere, all of the time, to every meeting and event, every lunch and dinner. By being transparent, the Circle reasons, wouldn’t the politician bring honesty and integrity back to politics? As is the way of the world, after the first politician signs up to “go transparent” and is universally praised, the rest of the world’s politicians clamor for cameras. Even politicians who think it’s a dumb idea succumb to peer pressure and public scrutiny. The politicians are allowed a few minutes of solitude in the bathroom, and they can turn the camera off when they’re sleeping, but that’s about it. Their constant exposure to the light of day is trumpeted by the Circle as the best way to bring enlightenment to the world and return honesty to politics. Of course, in the book, the camera-wearing frenzy doesn’t stop with politicians. Soon cameras are being installed everywhere — on beaches, at restaurants, in offices, in homes, at schools.

The book’s protagonist stumbles from small-town anonymity to world-wide fame as she is selected to be the first regular person to “go transparent”. People spend their days watching her days. She even comes up with a series of personal belief statements that become the Circle’s mantra and support the idea that we are all better off if everyone knows everything there is to know about everyone else: Secrets are Lies. Sharing is Caring. Privacy is Theft.

Privacy is considered theft because if I don’t share all of my experiences with you, I’m stealing from you the opportunity to visit the places I’m visiting and see the things I’m seeing. It makes some sense on the face of it.

It’s a short jump from having cameras everywhere to having everyone always wearing cameras. If secrets are bad, transparency is good. Know someone cheating on his or her spouse? Today, it’s probably a secret; if everyone is wearing a camera, maybe it doesn’t happen. Know someone stealing money or plotting a terrorist act? If they’re wearing a camera, maybe they don’t.

The problem in the book, of course, is that all video is stored somewhere, and now everything that happens anywhere is forever captured and retained. Make a mistake, and it never goes away. Say something stupid, and it can be replayed a billion times. Stumble across your parents in flagrante delicto, and everyone sees it over and over again forever.

Transparency prevents some bad things from happening. But it also inhibits people from taking chances, speaking spontaneously or just thinking aloud. People still have free will, but they no longer have the courage to pursue it. The closest thing we have to that scenario now is watching celebrities, sports stars and even Average Joes stumble in the spotlight of social media, paparazzi and selfpromotion. A few seem able to handle it, but most are just like us: They crack under the spotlight, and they aren’t even on camera 100 percent of the time. Yet. Maybe this book isn’t so far-fetched after all.

Rick Wamre is president of Advocate Media. Let him know ho,w we are doing by writing to 6301 Gaston, Suite 820, Dallas 75214; or email rwamre@advocatemag.com.

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2014

WHAT YOU’RE MISSING

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Councilwoman Gates supports a suffering Vickery Meadow community

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Dish to open at Hillcrest, Northwest Highway Walcrest pump station construction set for next year

A criminal record

On the second floor of the Dallas Police Department’s Jack Evans headquarters is a room piled high with boxes containing a century’s worth of incident reports and arrest warrants, department newsletters and newspaper clippings; vintage badges, patches and patrolman caps fill several glass display cases; books containing city code and local true crime stories line metal shelves; and a heavy, rusty ball-and-chain leg cuff occupies a dark corner.

Dallas Police Senior Cpl. Rick Janich, curator of the forthcoming Dallas Police Museum, is working to transform these artifacts into a proper exhibit.

“There’s been a desire to have a museum since the ’60s,” he says. “We’re just waiting on more money.”

The Police Department is accepting donations to help make it happen. Meanwhile, when his schedule permits, Janich shows visitors around, allowing them to sift through handwritten records and black-and-white photos. He might even show off the collection of handguns and badges, stashed under lock and key, that once belonged to famous lawmen such as Prohibition-era police chief Elmo Strait.

A descendent of the early Preston Hollow pioneers, Strait served as the Police Department’s seventh chief in 1921, enacting reforms and programs still in use today, such as the police reserve system. However, his tenure was brief. According to a report in the Dallas Morning News archives from that era, the demands of his job caused “a breakdown in health,” prompting him to resign his position and remain under medical care. Although he had been improving, he suffered in the end a “hemorrhage of the throat.” He died suddenly at age 46 and lies in our neighborhood’s small, private burial ground known as Merrell Cemetery (read more on page 28). The day after his death, the chief was honored across the city. “Every wheel in the Dallas street railway system will be stopped and all traffic in the city will halt for one minute at 4 o’clock …” reads the obituary.

Other artifacts that await viewing in the 4,000-square-foot museum reflect a time long before technological conveniences. Instead of the computer systems now equipped in every squad car, each officer had his own notebook, known as a “hook book,” to “keep track of bad guys,” Janich says.

A large vintage photograph of the Dallas Police force in 1893 shows wool-uniformed officers who all have one thing in common: the mustache. Janich says the department adopted the trend from England.

“It was one of those, ‘Well, it’s not required, but we would prefer it because it shows you’re more healthy.’ ”

And have you ever wondered what was inside those tall police hats? That’s where the officers kept their lunch. “They didn’t have anywhere else to put it,” Janich says.

The museum will undoubtedly be a popular attraction, Janich says. After all, the Dallas Police Department has groupies, he explains.

“Fans of the show ‘Dallas SWAT’ will show up here looking for Rich Emberlin or Ed Spila or other stars of the reality TV show,” he says, “hoping for an autograph.” —Advocate staff