I was a late and reluctant convert to the network. I buckled to peer pressure because it had become the only way some of my relatives wanted to communicate. I had reached the point where the social benefits of membership outweighed the privacy risks.

I won’t pretend I didn’t like using Facebook. Once I’d removed all the adverts and games, set access limits on the things I published and figured out how to read content without using the website, it became a genuinely useful tool. The events-management feature was a particular highlight.

Since I joined Facebook the company has been relentless in pursuit of it’s business plan: to extract and sell as much personal information about it’s users as possible. Consequently the privacy risks of usage became more severe over time. Facebook made a series of unilateral changes that affected user privacy adversely. It made public information I uploaded on the understanding that it would only be shared with my friends. From that point on the only way to protect this information was to lie. (For the record: my birthday isn’t really 1 January and I’m not really 108 years old.) The system has been trying to persuade me to tell it my mobile phone number lately, first by pointing out me how useful it’d be to hapless friends who’d lost their mobiles, and second by claiming it would improve the security of my account. I think Bruce Schneier described it best when he said, “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re Facebook’s customer, you’re not – you’re the product. It’s customers are the advertisers.”

The third-party applications through which much of the entertainment value of Facebook is derived proved untrustworthy, even without the accidental security-holes in the platform, so I stopped using them. Later, Facebook started dismantling the boundaries between itself and other websites by sharing profile information with it’s “carefully selected partners”, and subsequently with anyone who cared to put a Facebook “like” button on their website. It became necessary to log into Facebook only in Firefox’s “private browsing” mode to prevent information from leaking out to other websites without consent.

Facebook also made a controversial rights-grab by changing it’s terms and conditions to grant itself a copyright license-in-perpetuity to do what it likes with the content people published to it. My reaction was to stop sharing most of my photos, videos and blog posts on Facebook, which limited the value of my account to the people with whom I wanted to share those things.

Other changes were prompted by competitor social-networks. Facebook reacted to the explosion in popularity of it’s rival Twitter by changing it’s look to focus on status updates. At this point my use of Facebook became limited to the events system and as Twitter for people without a Twitter account.

In summary, as the Facebook kool-aid became more poisonous over time, I compensated by drinking less of it. A few months ago I realised I was logging in so infrequently that I was missing out on even those things in which I was genuinely interested: the birth of an acquaintance’s first child, an invitation to a party, and so on. I had to ask myself whether there was any point continuing.

The trouble is, Facebook is now integral to the lives of the people in my social circle, particularly since it reached critical mass: the point at which so many of my friends use the system that it’s become a chore for them to keep in touch in any other way. Some people I know don’t just limit their social interaction to Facebook – they also assume I’ve been following their posts and behave as if that assumption is sound. Suddenly it’s my fault if I don’t understand what they’re talking about. I’m making a social faux-pas by not reading what they have to say.

I’ve realised my relationship with Facebook has become an abusive one and it’s time to end it. This feeling was confirmed the moment I hit the deactivate button when my partner noted she’d probably have to field a stream of questions from her friends about why she’s no longer listed as “in a relationship” with me on *her* profile (my one concession to publishing private information about my life). I’m sure I would not have signed up to the network in the first place if I’d realised that my subsequent withdrawal could have an adverse impact on anyone other than myself.

I expect I’ll miss out on some photos I wish I’d seen, I’ll fail to realise that important events in my friends’ lives have happened, I’ll miss out on social events and my awareness of happenings in my extended circle of family and friends will diminish. Therefore I’m making my new year resolution to put more effort into maintaining my relationships in person. I’m betting I can enjoy just as rich a social life with fewer deeper relationships than I can with hundreds of shallow ones maintained through continuous partial attention.

This previously-boiling frog figures he’ll thank himself later for hopping out of the pan before it got too hot to survive.

If you want to get or stay in touch with me, or if you want to see my photos, videos and status updates, check out my ‘contact me’ page.

Your search terms are highly sensitive and very private. They are also uniquely identifiable. Examining what you search for can reveal deeply personal facts about you, such as your online reading habits, medical history, finances, sexual preferences and political affiliations.

A database of search terms, linked to subscriber accounts, would be a clear violation of the privacy rights of everyone who uses the Internet in Europe.

I’ve written to my MEPs urging them not to sign Written Declaration 29 and to withdraw their signature if they have already signed. You should do the same – it takes two minutes through writetothem.com

Here’s my letter (but, as always, please use your own words for maximum effect).

Dear Timothy Kirkhope, Edward McMillan-Scott, Andrew Brons, Godfrey Bloom, Diana Wallis and Linda McAvan,

Written declaration 29 [pdf] calls on the European Commission to extend the data retention directive (2006/24/EC) to Internet search-engines. If this were to happen all private searches done on Google et al would be monitored. I feel this would be an intolerable violation of article 8 ECHR privacy rights.

Written declaration 29 is being marketed within the European Parliament by using an emotionally-loaded picture of a child and talking about the need to set up an ”early warning system” to combat child abuse. Laudable though that aim is, as a technical expert it’s my opinion that these measures cannot achieve it, and the marketing is therefore misleading. Some MEPs have already said they feel they have been misled into signing the declaration because of the way in which it was presented to them.

If the declaration is adopted the names of the signatories will be made public.

If you have signed written declaration 29 and feel you have been misled I urge you to withdraw your signature.

Christian Engström MEP has published more information on his website.

1. Scrap the ID card scheme, the National Identity register, the next generation of biometric passports and the ContactPoint Database.
2. Outlaw the finger-printing of children at school without parental permission.
3. Extend the scope of the Freedom of Information Act to provide greater transparency.
4. Adopt the Scottish approach to stopping retention of innocent people’s DNA on the DNA database.
5. Defend trial by jury.
6. Restore rights to non-violent protest.
7. A review of libel laws to protect freedom of speech.
8. Safeguards against the misuse of anti-terrorism legislation.
9. Further regulation of CCTV.
10. Ending of storage of internet and email records without good reason.
11. A new mechanism to prevent the proliferation of unnecessary new criminal offences.
12. End the detention of children for immigration purposes.

Oh my!

As a digital- and civil-rights campaigner this list fills my heart with joy. The successful passage of this Bill through Parliament would not end the need to champion human rights in the digital era* however it would be a famous victory for that cause: we could say with certainty that this election, that the ousting of Labour from Government, was the point at which the high-water mark of authoritarian social policy in Britain was reached.

Some fellow campaigners have today urged caution and are reserving judgement until the details of the Bill are published. I cannot fault them for their cynicism however I am filled with hope that today we have seen not only the dawn of a new politics in Britain, but a new era of liberty, freedom, privacy and respect for human rights in the UK.

I shall be raising my glass to the death of ID cards and the Database State tonight!

* Three omissions stand out: repeal clauses 11-18 of the Digital Economy Act; make the NHS Summary Care Record opt-in rather than opt-out; end the Vetting and Barring scheme, abolish the Independent Safeguarding Authority and reform CRB checks to make them fair. It’s possible that these will be included in the detail of the Bill.

British civil liberties have been dismantled systematically since 2001. The National Identity Register, biometric passports, the NHS spine, Contactpoint and the Vetting and Barring Scheme are just a few of the most egregious privacy invasions we have suffered.

Our every move is watched with suspicion by the authorities. ANPR systems record every journey we make. Video and audio Surveillance Systems (SS) watch us in every public space and many private ones too. Thousands of public bodies abuse their RIP Act powers to spy on us for trivial reasons. The police can stop us and search us arbitrarily, and they keep “pre-crime” databases on the innocent. Our private communications are monitored, analysed and recorded both by the Government and private companies.

Yet often MPs want one rule for us and another for them. The children of MPs can be “shielded” on ContactPoint to protect their privacy – but ours can’t. Very few MPs have an ID card even though ministers have been doing everything in their power to coerce the public into “volunteering” for them. Many MPs voted to exempt themselves from the Freedom of Information Act, to protect their “privacy”, whilst passing laws that erode ours.

When it comes to liberty in Britain today, all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others. This hypocrisy has to end and the systematic assault on our civil liberties must be reversed.

The Power2010 campaign is conducting a letter writing campaign asking Prospective Parliamentary Candidates to:

…commit that, if you are elected, you will vote to repeal the Identity Cards Act 2006 and will defend our privacy as fiercely as you would defend your own and that of your family.

The above reproduces what I sent to Sheffield Central PPCs. You can take part in the campaign here.

Mobile ANPR cameras are also used by some police forces. These are deployed in popular locations such as shopping centres for so-called “lockdown” operations, where every vehicle entering the area is checked against records as police fish for reasons to impound cars and fine drivers. One such operation in November 2008, which was filmed for television (relevant segment starts at 21m30s), saw 369 vehicles stopped, 84 tickets issued, 51 cars seized and 12 people arrested at Bluewater shopping centre in Kent – in a single day.

It’s no longer a case of “follow that car” but “follow every car.”

ACPO defend their wholesale surveillance system by pointing to a few high-profile cases where ANPR evidence has formed part of a prosecution. They’re less keen to highlight the cases of mistaken identity, inaccurate record-keeping and official ineptitude that have left innocent people standing on the kerbside holding a ticket as an officer drives away in their vehicle. Even if these drivers manage to prove the database wrong they can end up paying hundreds of pounds in fees to get their car back – if it hasn’t been crushed.

Supporters of ANPR technology claim vehicle license-plate data is exempt from the Data Protection Act because it’s not “personal information” (it’s about the vehicle not the driver). However the Driver and Vehicle Licensing Agency (DVLA) sells access to the names and addresses of registered vehicle-keepers for £2.50p a time, making this distinction academic.

In common with the National Identity Register, National DNA Database and all the other tentacles of the database state, once this information is collected there’s nothing to stop it falling into the hands of other public or private organisations, either by accident, commercial arrangement or official decree. Wouldn’t you like to know where your partner really drives off to while you’re at work? I bet there’s a good number of private investigators who would.

The Information Commissioner’s Office is currently “working with” ACPO to determine whether the national ANPR network is “appropriate and proportionate” – which means nobody bothered to ask those questions before the system was commissioned.

Who stands up for the public interest in the rush to implement new technologies like ANPR for official convenience? I don’t recall there being a public or Parliamentary debate on giving the police these game-changing surveillance powers. Has anyone considered the down-side of collecting all this data?

Somehow I doubt it.