I’m no cybersecurity expert but I can recognize when there’s something suspicious going on. A few days ago, I began getting emails with a security code that had been requested as standard procedure when signing into one of my online accounts. This is a familiar email, as each time I would attempt to sign in, I would have to enter the code that had been emailed to me. Only that this time, it wasn’t me that was trying to sign in. This fact knocked over the first in a long string of dominos that danced circles around considerations of disparate aspects of our existence.
The prospect of being hacked induces varying degrees of anxiety, depending on what one stands to lose. With the prevalence of online facades and cloud subscriptions, a significant portion of our identity is coiled around our various accounts. Like the mythical serpent guarding the golden apple, we store all our memories and lived experiences in the ether. The massive (and usually quite dusty) photo albums are now – if they still exist – much dustier than before. We have our phones, see. Convenient and equipped with cameras of ever-increasing capability. Anything that happens is only happening if a device is involved. All that we are is on our devices. So when the sanctity of our personal (cyber) space is now invaded – it can mean the unraveling of much more than a message log.
Naturally, this scale of a migration of our lives to compact electronic boxes could have only been voluntary. The smarter devices became, the more we were enticed to have them “help” us. This was the modern world, a world that was paving the way for a novel, invisible version of itself. Parallel to the case of the recliner giving us back problems, this supposedly easy and handy way of palming off responsibilities on devices that could make our lives even more comfortable is arguably one of the most dangerous developments of our time.
It is not that the technology is inherently bad – a bit unnecessary to sustain life perhaps – but by no means evil. But when forging a new path through a hypothetical jungle on a continent that no human has ever before traversed, the pioneers never truly know the full risk of the journey.
In this journey into tech, we are the pioneers. We are walking this path for the first time, and we have no idea what awaits us around the next bend. Some of us may have seen it and attempted to warn the wider world – but the message was so radical that it must be disguised in art. Whether painting, book, or poem, it was all labeled “science fiction”. Tech has altered our already skewed sense of reality and continues to shift the paradigm. The concept of risk no longer solely applies to that of a person, our data has now become an equally precious commodity. One which now is accessible from any corner of the planet thanks to data networks we have so arduously constructed.
Gone are the times when switching off your computer made your data inaccessible. Ironically, in those times there was less information stored on the computer anyway. With our lives completely wrapped up in apps and a data connection, everything can suddenly vanish with frighteningly little warning. When I got the first email with a security code, I didn’t think it was anything serious. After all, within the email it was said that it could simply be an honest mistake that someone typed in my email address by accident.
A few days later, I got another similar email with another security code and the same reassurance that it could be a harmless mistake. Then another. Third time’s the charm, and I took a swan dive into my account settings. To my horror, I discovered a seemingly endless list of (thankfully) unsuccessful sign-in attempts from almost every country on the planet. Probably thirty or forty each day, I was unable to scroll to the end. All I got to was hitting the button that said, “Load More”. It was at that moment it became undeniably clear that there was no human being trying to enter my account. It was a machine.
There was no way that I had been singled out for this. Surely there are others who – without a successful sign in or the measures in place to prevent nefarious activity – would remain blissfully unaware of the global cyber-trawling that is currently unfolding at mind-boggling scales and speeds. Whether independent or state-sanctioned, the information hounds are baying excitedly with their noses to the ground. Tech does not discriminate based on intent. I cannot give any assurance that my precious two-factor authentication will save me forever.
Having been burned several times by sometimes spectacular hard drive crashes, a few years ago I put my faith in the cloud. I too, have fallen into the groove of putting my life’s work on a floating tether in cyberspace. If I become locked out of my own storage – it is a nightmarish scenario.
But this article isn’t merely about my concerns about cybersecurity. The elephant in the room is the role social media plays in all this. Social media in its various forms permeates much of our lives. These apps were conceptualized by people and are now ruled by machines; the ruthless algorithms that creators and businesspeople alike complain about incessantly. These algorithms decide what shows up on your feed or homepage. The concept was for the machine to learn about what you like, such that you can see more of it. It may have started out like that, but it keeps on changing. The algorithm functions like a sort of middleman orchestrating the threshold between the human user and wider cyberspace. Except now, this beloved middleman refuses to make eye contact and will certainly not entertain removing those earbuds from his ears. While we sit passively, he tosses all sorts of things our way. Some we may like, others not so much. Some look like things we like but turn out the opposite. Things come faster and faster, and if you don’t take the chance now to inspect what he gives you, it’ll be gone in a blink with auto-refresh. This is a dangerous game, let me explain.
A few days after getting those emails, I clicked on a link on Facebook by mistake. I know it sounds like a cheap cop-out after people begin complaining that I’ve been sending them compromising messages – but hear me out. I use Facebook infrequently. I only access the site through the browser on my computer, and historically have used it to find articles and discussions surrounding some of the issues I am interested in. This was a curated list determined by the handful of accounts I was following. I would glean snippets of information, share articles, and attempt to stimulate some sort of conversation around what a similar country implemented to solve a problem we share, for example.
Presently, what I see when I log into that platform is most definitely not that. Now, sports, movie clips, pop culture scandals, and a host of things I do not care for. All of these are being shared by pages I do not follow. Some of these accounts also post links. To where? Anyone’s guess. Some of the links look like clickable images. I would follow accounts I trust, reputable organizations striving to make a change in this world. Even if I were to click a link by mistake, the repercussions couldn’t be more severe than say, having to avoid signing up for a zoom meeting.
This has brought me to a consideration of obligation. When living in a place governed by a body, that body is mandated to keep its people safe. In the metaverse, with whom does that responsibility lie? With the plethora of threats combined with the growing mountains of personal information, memories, and lives at risk, we are witnessing a perfect storm brewing. Machine powered surveillance for weaknesses which can be exploited within a split second, these are predators in a world where the prey animals are the human users. Steel teeth piercing soft skin – sounds terrifying, doesn’t it? Enter the middleman, the social media algorithm.
By ignoring our requests to give us what we ask for, by not giving us time to think about what we are holding, the algorithm is drastically increasing our risk of becoming a victim. As we push forward, we must critically investigate in which direction we are going, and if it is for the betterment of us all. It is often difficult for me to understand the level of trust we have put into machines. After all, the machines were built by people, and people do not exactly have a clean track record of being kind to other people.
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