“Goodbye, said the fox. And now here is my secret, a very simple secret. It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.” Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Privacy often comes up when we discuss the relationships between large corporations, usually Google or Apple, and their customers. Let's call it macro-privacy. What never seems to be addressed, or I have been perpetually missing it, is micro-privacy: what are the boundaries in our daily routine, how easy is it to cross them? What are the repercussions and who do I really hurt if I cross that boundary? Who will know, if I do? Maybe, and that is what really concerns me, how often do we know that we've crossed that boundary?
The questions are too many for this to just be a hypothetical discussion, indeed. A particular incident happened a few days ago and it stuck with me, it is marinating in my mind, my brain has been trying to simultaneously forget it and understand it.
Violence doesn't have to be physical to be tangible. Symbolic violence, though usually a reserved guest to feminist theologians (among others), is a curious concept that can be felt and that can confuse just as much as a slap in the face. If I get slapped in the face, I'd probably at least know where it came from.
An early train ride towards the airport had me leaning on the window. The slow rocking of the train, perhaps reminiscent of a cradle, got me drifting off. I was day dreaming, snoozing, feeling my eye lids heavy and sleeping, and waking up again. I opened my eyes, for no real reason, and I saw a man with a his phone aimed at me, taking a photo. He saw me open my eyes and immediately, quickly, swiftly and soundlessly walked away. That is it. That is all that happened.
Did he think it was funny I was asleep at 5 am on the train and wanted to post it online with a funny tagline underneath? Did he think I was cute while I was sleeping? I've been told that before but I never thought it was worthy of a photo. Maybe it wasn't the sleeping bit... so I looked at my reflection in the window which had, until seconds ago, provided me with a resting place and given space to my dreams; but no, I wasn't wearing any interesting clothes, didn't have any make-up smeared on my face. I still don't know why this stranger felt the need to take a picture of a sleeping person on a train at 5 am.
I get the feeling that there was no purpose to it, though. This is where privacy comes in. He felt it was OK for him to do it, yet not OK enough that he would be arrogant about it: me waking up snapped him out of it and he left, ashamed, perhaps. Where does the boundary come in, when you have a camera phone, when you can upload photos instantly and share them, literally, with the other side of the planet? I think, because technology allows us to do something, it is easy to assume that it grants a moral and social permission too. I ask myself questions too: why was I so taken aback by this? What was the worst that could happen, really, I thought to myself. Some strangers may see me sleeping. I don't even think you could see my face and I wasn't drooling... Yet, it was a very clear violation, it felt as strong as a punch in the chest.
To answer my questions:
1. it is incredibly easy to cross micro-boundaries because they are so subjective. There is a discrepancy, what we can physically accomplish has surpassed our development psychologically on an individual level, let alone the social one.We may be able to do something but that doesn't mean that we should or we are allowed to. Perceptions change slowly. I am not even disputing whether they should change, whether some opinions are better off "un-evolved".
2.usually, if you cross a boundary, in the cases of micro-privacy anyway, it won't be a major problem. Sure, the victim may tell you off or punch you (if you chat up someone's girlfriend in a bar, for example) but there rarely would be great consequences. It mostly tells something about you and your character.
3. the issue is that you may not know you've crossed a boundary. Because we're talking about such small moments that only last a second, sometimes without any witnesses or time for reaction, you may not feel that anything has happened. And if that's the case, returning to Question 2, mostly, it hurts the perpetrator, not the victim.
Ultimately, trust your instincts. And if you hear a silence, then that's more telling than the loudest scream. But just because you can do something, it doesn't mean you should. And frankly, I feel this ending to be a bit false, a bit unstable. This is my attempt at concluding a story which doesn't have a natural ending. This is just my brain, doing what it's made to do- trying to solve a puzzle and have closure.
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