Big Brother is alive and well, not only in Newham but all over Britain. More than a million cameras now monitor the citizens’ movements. That’s more per head of population than in any other country. By one reckoning, the average commuter can expect to be caught on film 300 times between opening the garden gate in the morning and returning at night. Glance upward in almost any town center for proof: a wall-mounted camera–sometimes in a bulletproof casing–trained on the shoppers below. Over the last 10 years the police and local communities have invested hugely in the technology; Prime Minister Tony Blair last week advertised his backing with a visit to Newham. The closed-circuit television system may be intrusive–but its record blunts any public outrage. Figures suggest that a network of cameras in a town center can reduce crime by 70 percent.
Still, the sheer scale of supervision feeds fears of a snooper society. Cameras now watch over parking lots, phone booths, elevators and even some public toilets. Some buses carry up to six hidden lenses. Beside all roads into the center of the City, the capital’s commercial heart, stand masts topped by cameras that snap every driver and his registration plate. When TV presenter Jill Dando was shot dead last summer, police hunting her murderer–still at large–could reconstruct much of her last morning’s shopping trip from footage taken in her local high street. Says Simon Davies of Privacy International: “A generation is growing up that won’t know what it means to walk anonymously.”
The technology can be pretty scary. The latest generation of face-recognition software can scan a million faces on its database in a second. Critics warn that soon authorities might use images and data for purposes that have nothing to do with routine law enforcement. Unlike most European countries, Britain has no laws on privacy. And the British have a sometimes unhealthy belief in the state’s wisdom. Other Europeans, says Tim Pidgeon of Visionics, the U.S.-based company that supplies the face-recognition software, “find the whole idea of cameras an invasion of privacy. The British are used to them.”
The government isn’t too troubled. Crime is on the rise: last year saw a 19 percent hike in robbery. For the politicians cost-effective solutions have become more important than any hand-wringing over privacy. Cameras and other next-generation technologies fit the bill.
If they work–but often they don’t. The camera can’t stop some of the most common crimes. The lout leaving the nightclub with a skinful of lager won’t know or care whether he’s filmed, say the critics. And the wise thief or mugger just moves to a new patch when the first camera appears. Crime is displaced–not eliminated.
A few powerful images help explain the camera’s popularity. Lodged in the public memory are the 1993 video pictures of two 10-year-old boys abducting toddler James Bulger from a Liverpool shopping mall. Hours later he was battered to death. The cameras hadn’t prevented his murder–but they did speed up the killers’ arrest. Besides, a little privacy can seem a small price to pay for the sense of security that cameras bring. “To worry about something like that, you must have something to hide,” says pensioner John Peebles, who has seen vandalism and petty crime evaporate since cameras were fitted around his home in a Glasgow housing development. “I certainly feel safer now–and I speak for 100 percent of the people here.” Back in Newham, there’s overwhelming support for extending the cameras’ gaze. Big Brother is best friend. For now.
