net.wars

Unscreened

My Canadian friend was tolerant enough to restart his Nissan car so I could snare a pic of the startup screen (above) and read it in full. That’s when he followed the instructions to set the car to send only “limited data” to the company. What is that data? The car didn’t say. (Its manual might, but I didn’t test his patience that far.)

In 2023, a Mozilla Foundation study of US cars’ privacy called them the worst category it had ever tested and named Nissan as the worst offender: “The Japanese car manufacturer admits in their privacy policy to collecting a wide range of information, including sexual activity, health diagnosis data, and genetic data – but doesn’t specify how. They say they can share and sell consumers’ ‘preferences, characteristics, psychological trends, predispositions, behavior, attitudes, intelligence, abilities, and aptitudes’ to data brokers, law enforcement, and other third parties.”

Fortunately, my friend lives in Canada.

Granting that no one wants to read privacy policies, at least apps, and websites display them in their excruciating, fine-print detail. They can afford to because usually you encounter them when you’re not in a hurry. That can’t be said of the start-up screen in a car, when you just want to get moving. Its interference has to be short.

The new startup screen confirmed that “limited data” was now being sent. I wasn’t quick enough to read the rest, but it probably warned that some features might not now work – because that’s what they *always* say, and is what the settings warned (without specifics) when he changed them.

I assume this setup complies with Canada’s privacy laws. But the friction of consulting a manual or website to find out what data is being sent deters customers from exercising their rights. Like website dark patterns, it’s gamed to serve the company’s interests. It feels like grudging compliance with the law, especially because customers are automatically opted in.

How companies obtain consent is a developing problem. At Privacy International, Gus Hosein considers the future of AI assistants. Naturally, he focuses on the privacy implications: the access they’ll need, the data they’ll be able to extract, the new kinds of datasets they’ll create. And he predicts that automation will tempt developers to bypass the friction of consent and permission. In 2013, we considered this with respect to emotionally manipulative pet robots.

I had to pause when Hosein got to “screenless devices” to follow some links. At Digital Trends, Luke Edwards summarizes a report at The Information that OpenAI may acquire io Products. This start-up, led by renowned Apple hardware designer Jony Ive and OpenAI CEO Sam Altman, intends to create AI voice-enabled assistants that may (or may not) take the form of a screenless “phone” or household device.

Meanwhile, The Vergecast (MP3) reports that Samsung is releasing Ballie, a domestic robot infused with Google Cloud’s generative AI that can “engage in natural, conversational interactions to help users manage home environments”. Samsung suggests you can have it greet people at the door. So much nicer than being greeted by your host.

These remind of the Humane AI pin, whose ten-month product life ended in February with HP’s purchase of the company’s assets for $116 million. Or the similar Bee, whose “summaries” of meetings and conversations Victoria Song at The Verge called “fan fiction”. Yes: as factual as any other generative AI chatbot. More notably, the Bee couldn’t record silent but meaningful events, leading Song to wonder, “In a hypothetical future where everyone has a Bee, do unspoken memories simply not exist?”

In November 2018, a Reuters Institute report on the future of news found that on a desktop computer the web can offer 20 news links at a time; a smartphone has room for seven, and smart speakers just one. Four years later, smart speakers were struggling as a category because manufacturers can’t make money out of them. But apparently Silicon Valley still thinks the shrunken communications channel of voice beats typing and reading and are plowing on. It gives them greater control.

The thin, linear stream of information is why Hosein foresees the temptation to avoid the friction of consent. But the fine-grained user control he wants will, I think, mandate offloading reviewing collected data and granting or revoking permissions onto a device with a screen. Like smart watches, these screenless devices will have to be part of a system. What Hosein wants and Cory Doctorow has advocated for web browsers is that these technological objects should be loyal agents. That is, they must favor *our* interests over those of their manufacturer, or we won’t trust them.

More complicated is the situation with respect to incops – incidentally co-present [people] – whose data is also captured without their consent: me in my friend’s car, everyone Song encountered. Mozilla reported that Subaru claims that by getting in the car passengers become “users” who consent to data collection (as if); several other manufacturers say that the driver is responsible for notifying passengers. Song found it easier to mute the Bee in her office and while commuting than to ask colleagues and passersby for permission to record. Then she found it didn’t always disconnect when she told it to…

So now imagine that car saturated with an agentic AI assistant that decides where you want to go and drives you there.

“You don’t want to do that, Dave.”

Illustrations: The start-up screen in my Canadian friend’s car.

Wendy M. Grossman is the 2013 winner of the Enigma Award. Her Web site has an extensive archive of her books, articles, and music, and an archive of earlier columns in this series. She is a contributing editor for the Plutopia News Network podcast. Follow on Mastodon or Bluesky.

Predatory inclusion

The recent past is a foreign country; they view the world differently there.

At last week’s We Robot conference on technology, policy, and law, the indefatigably detail-oriented Sue Glueck was the first to call out a reference to the propagation of transparency and accountability by the “US and its allies” as newly out of date. From where we were sitting in Windsor, Ontario, its conjoined fraternal twin, Detroit, Michigan, was clearly visible just across the river. But: recent events.

As Ottawa law professor Teresa Scassa put it, “Before our very ugly breakup with the United States…” Citing, she Anu Bradford, she went on, “Canada was trying to straddle these two [US and EU] digital empires.” Canada’s human rights and privacy traditions seem closer to those of the EU, even though shared geography means the US and Canada are superficially more similar.

We’ve all long accepted that the “technology is neutral” claim of the 1990s is nonsense – see, just this week, Luke O’Brien’s study at Mother Jones of the far-right origins of the web-scraping facial recognition company Clearview AI. The paper Glueck called out, co-authored in 2024 by Woody Hartzog, wants US lawmakers to take a tougher approach to regulating AI and ban entirely some systems that are fundamentally unfair. Facial recognition, for example, is known to be inaccurate and biased, but improving its accuracy raises new dangers of targeting and weaponization, a reality Cynthia Khoo called “predatory inclusion”. If he were writing this paper now, Hartzog said, he would acknowledge that it’s become clear that some governments, not just Silicon Valley, see AI as a tool to destroy institutions. I don’t *think* he was looking at the American flags across the water.

Later, Khoo pointed out her paper on current negotiations between the US and Canada to develop a bilateral law enforcement data-sharing agreement under the US CLOUD Act. The result could allow US police to surveil Canadians at home, undermining the country’s constitutional human rights and privacy laws.

In her paper, Clare Huntington proposed deriving approaches to human relationships with robots from family law. It can, she argued, provide analogies to harms such as emotional abuse, isolation, addiction, invasion of privacy, and algorithmic discrimination. In response, Kate Darling, who has long studied human responses to robots, raised an additional factor exacerbating the power imbalance in such cases: companies, “because people think they’re talking to a chatbot when they’re really talking to a company.” That extreme power imbalance is what matters when trying to mitigate risk (see also Sarah Wynn-Williams’ recent book and Congressional testimony on Facebook’s use of data to target vulnerable teens).

In many cases, however, we are not agents deciding to have relationships with robots but what AJung Moon called “incops”, or “incidentally co-present”. In the case of the Estonian Starship delivery robots you can find in cities from San Francisco to Milton Keynes, that broad category includes human drivers, pedestrians, and cyclists who share their spaces. In a study, Adeline Schneider found that white men tended to be more concerned about damage to the robot, where others worried more about communication, the data they captured, safety, and security. Delivery robots are, however, typically designed with only direct users in mind, not others who may have to interact with it.

These are all social problems, not technological ones, as conference chair Kristen Thomasen observed. Carys Craig later modified it: technology “has compounded the problems”.

This is the perennial We Robot question: what makes robots special? What qualities require new laws? Just as we asked about the Internet in 1995, when are robots just new tools for old rope, and when do they bring entirely new problems? In addition, who is responsible in such cases? This was asked in a discussion of Beatrice Panattoni‘s paper on Italian proposals to impose harsher penalties for crime committed with AI or facilitated by robots. The pre-conference workshop raised the same question. We already know the answer: everyone will try to blame someone or everyone else. But in formulating a legal repsonse, will we tinker around the edges or fundamentally question the criminal justice system? Andrew Selbst helpfully summed up: “A law focusing on specific harms impedes a structural view.”

At We Robot 2012, it was novel to push lawyers and engineers to think jointly about policy and robots. Now, as more disciplines join the conversation, familiar Internet problems surface in new forms. Human-robot interaction is a four-dimensional version of human-computer interaction; I got flashbacks to old hacking debates when Elizabeth Joh wondered in response to Panattoni’s paper if transforming a robot into a criminal should be punished; and a discussion of the use of images of medicalized children for decades in fundraising invoked publicity rights and tricky issues of consent.

Also consent-related, lawyers are starting to use generative AI to draft contracts, a step that Katie Szilagyi and Marina Pavlović suggested further diminishes the bargaining power already lost to “clickwrap”. Automation may remove our remaining ability to object from more specialized circumstances than the terms and conditions imposed on us by sites and services. Consent traditionally depends on a now-absent “meeting of minds”.

The arc of We Robot began with enthusiasm for robots, which waned as big data and generative AI became players. Now, robots/AI are appearing as something being done to us.

Illustrations: Detroit, seen across the river from Windsor, Ontario with a Canadian Coast Guard boat in the foreground.

Catoptromancy

It’s a commonly held belief that technology moves fast, and law slowly. This week’s We Robot workshop day gave the opposite impression: these lawyers are moving ahead, while the technology underlying robots is moving slower than we think.

A mainstay of this conference over the years has been Bill Smart‘s and Cindy Grimm‘s demonstrations of the limitations of the technologies that make up robots. This year, that gambit was taken up by Jason Millar and AJung Moon. Their demonstration “robot” comprised six people – one brain, four sensors, and one color sensor. Ordering it to find the purple shirt quickly showed that robot programming isn’t getting any easier. The human “sensors” can receive useful information only as far as their outstretched fingertips, and even then the signal they receive is minimal.

“Many of my students program their robots into a ditch and can’t understand why,” Moon said. It’s the required specificity. For one thing, a color sensor doesn’t see color; it sends a stream of numeric values. It’s all 1s and 0s and tiny engineering decisions whose existence is never registered at the policy level but make all the difference. One of her students, for example, struggled with a robot that kept missing the croissant it was supposed to pick up by 30 centimeters. The explanation turned out to be that the sensor was so slow that the robot was moving a half-second too early, based on historical information. They had to insert a pause before the robot could get it right.

So much of the way we talk about robots and AI misrepresents those inner workings. A robot can’t “smell honey”; it merely has a sensor that’s sensitive to some chemicals and not others. It can’t “see purple” if its sensors are the usual red, green, blue. Even green may not be identifiable to an RGB sensor if the lighting is such that reflections make a shiny green surface look white. Faster and more diverse sensors won’t change the underlying physics. How many lawmakers understand this?

Related: what does it mean to be a robot? Most people attach greater intelligence to things that can move autonomously. But a modern washing machine is smarter than a Roomba, while an iPhone is smarter than either but can’t affect the physical world, as Smart observed at the very first We Robot, in 2012.

This year we are in Canada – to be precise, in Windsor, Ontario, looking across the river to Detroit, Michigan. Canadian law, like the country itself, is a mosaic: common law (inherited from Britain), civil law (inherited from France), and myriad systems of indigenous peoples’ law. Much of the time, said Suzie Dunn, new technology doesn’t require new law so much as reinterpretation and, especially, enforcement of existing law.

“Often you can find criminal law that already applies to digital spaces, but you need to educate the legal system how to apply it,” she said. Analogous: in the late 1990s, editors of the technology section at the Daily Telegraph had a deal-breaking question: “Would this still be a story if it were about the telephone instead of the Internet?”

We can ask that same question about proposed new law. Dunn and Katie Szilagyi asked what robots and AI change that requires a change of approach. They set us to consider scenarios to study this question: an autonomous vehicle kills a cyclist; an autonomous visa system denies entry to a refugee who was identified in her own country as committing a crime when facial recognition software identifies her in images of an illegal LGBTQ protest. In the first case, it’s obvious that all parties will try to blame someone – or everyone – else, probably, as Madeleine Clare Elish suggested in 2016, on the human driver, who becomes the “moral crumple zone”. The second is the kind of case the EU’s AI Act sought to handle by giving individuals the right to meaningful information about the automated decision made about them.

Nadja Pelkey, a curator at Art Windsor-Essex, provided a discussion of AI in a seemingly incompatible context. Citing Georges Bataille, who in 1929 saw museums as mirrors, she invoked the word “catoptromancy”, the use of mirrors in mystical divination. Social and political structures are among the forces that can distort the reflection. So are the many proliferating AI tools such as “personalized experiences” and other types of automation, which she called “adolescent technologies without legal or ethical frameworks in place”.

Where she sees opportunities for AI is in what she called the “invisible archives”. These include much administrative information, material that isn’t digitized, ephemera such as exhibition posters, and publications. She favors small tools and small private models used ethically so they preserve the rights of artists and cultural contexts, and especially consent. In a schematic she outlined a system that can’t be scraped, that allows data to be withdrawn as well as added, and that enables curiosity and exploration. It’s hard to imagine anything less like the “AI” being promulgated by giant companies. *That* type of AI was excoriated in a final panel on technofascism and extractive capitalism.

It’s only later I remember that Pelkey also said that catoptromancy mirrors were first made of polished obsidian.

In other words, black mirrors.

Illustrations: Divination mirror made of polished obsidian by artisans of the Aztec Empire of Mesoamerica between the 15th and 16th centuries (via Wikimedia

A short history of We Robot 2012-

On the eve of We Robot 2025, here are links to my summaries of previous years. 2014 is missing; I didn’t make it that year for family reasons. There was no conference in 2024 in order to move the event back to its original April schedule (covid caused its move to September in 2020). These are my personal impressions; nothing I say here should be taken as representing the conference, its founders, its speakers, or their institutions.

We Robot was co-founded by Michael Froomkin, Ryan Calo, and Ian Kerr to bring together lawyers and engineers to think early about the coming conflicts in robots, law, and policy.

2024 No conference.

2023 The end of cool. After struggling to design a drone delivery service that had any benefits over today’s cycling couriers, we find ourselves less impressed by robot that can do somersaults but not do anything useful.

2022 Insert a human. “Robots” are now “sociotechnical systems”.

Workshop day Coding ethics. The conference struggles to design an ethical robot.

2021 Plausible diversions. How will robots rehape human space?

Workshop day Is the juice worth the squeeze?. We think about how to regulate delivery robots, which will likely have no user-serviceable parts. Title from Woody Hartzog.

2020 (virtual) The zero on the phone. AI exploitation becomes much more visible.

2019 Math, monsters, and metaphors. The trolley problem is dissected; the true danger is less robots than the “pile of math that does some stuff”.

Workshop day The Algernon problem. New participants remind that robots/AI are carrying out the commands of distant owners.

2018 Deception. The conference tries to tease out what makes robots different and revisits Madeleine Clare Elish’s moral crumple zones after the first pedestrian death by self-driving car.

Workshop day Late, noisy, and wrong. Engineers Bill Smart and Cindy Grimm explain why sensors never capture what you think they’re capturing and how AI systems use their data.

2017 Have robot, will legislate. Discussion of risks this year focused on the intermediate sitaution, when automation and human norms clash.

2016 Humans all the way down. Madeline Clare Elish introduces “moral crumple zones”.

Workshop day: The lab and the world. Bill Smart uses conference attendees in formation to show why building a robot is difficult.

2015 Multiplicity. A robot pet dog begs its owner for an upgraded service subscription.

2014 Missed conference

2013 Cautiously apocalyptic. Diversity of approaches to regulation will be needed to handle the diversity of robots.

2012 A really fancy hammer with a gun. Unsentimental engineer Bill Smart provided the title.

Review: Careless People

Careless People: A Cautionary Tale of Power, Greed, and Lost Idealism
By Sarah-Wynn-Williams
Macmillan
ISBN: 978-1035065929

In his 2021 book Social Warming, Charles Arthur concludes his study of social media with the observation that the many harms he documented happened because no one cared to stop them. “Nobody meant for this to happen,” he writes to open his final chapter.

In her new book, Careless People, about her time at Facebook, former New Zealand diplomat Sarah Wynn-Williams shows the truth of Arthur’s take. A sad tale of girl-meets-company, girl-loses-company, girl-tells-her-story, it starts with Wynn-Williams stalking Facebook to identify the right person to pitch hiring her to build its international diplomatic relationships. I kept hoping increasing dissent and disillusion would lead her to quit. Instead, she stays until she’s fired after HR dismisses her complaint of sexual harassment.

In 2011, when Wynn-Williams landed her dream job, Facebook’s wild expansion was at an early stage. CEO Mark Zuckerberg is awkward, sweaty, and uncomfortable around world leaders, who are dismissive. By her departure in 2017, presidents of major countries want selfies with him and he’s much more comfortable – but no longer cares. Meanwhile, then-Chief Operating Officer Sheryl Sandberg, wealthy from her time at Google, becomes a celebrity via her book, Lean In, written with the former TV comedy writer Nell Scovell. Sandberg’s public feminism clashes with her employee’s experience. When Wynn-Williams’s first child is a year old, a fellow female employee congratulates her on keeping the child so well-hidden she didn’t know it existed.

The book provides hysterically surreal examples of American corporatism. She is in the delivery room, feet in stirrups, ordered to push, when a text arrives: can she draft talking points for Davos? (She tries!) For an Asian trip, Zuckerberg wants her to arrange a riot or peace rally so he can appear to be “gently mobbed”. When the company fears “Mark” or “Sheryl” might be arrested if they travel to Korea, managers try to identify a “body” who can be sent in as a canary. Wynn-Williams’s husband has to stop her from going. Elsewhere, she uses her diplomatic training to land Zuckerberg a “longer-than-normal handshake” with Xi Jinping.

So when you get to her failure to get her bosses to beef up the two-person content moderation team for Myanmar’s 60 million people, rewrite the section so Burmese characters render correctly, and post country-specific policies, it’s obvious what her bosses will decide. The same is true of internal meetings discussing the tools later revealed to let advertisers target depressed teens. Wynn-Williams hopes for a safe way forward, but warns that company executives’ “lethal carelessness” hasn’t changed.

Cultural clash permeates this book. As a New Zealander, she’s acutely conscious of the attitudes she encounters, and especially of the wealth and class disparity that divide the early employees from later hires. As pregnancies bring serious medical problems and a second child, the very American problem of affording health insurance makes offending her bosses ever riskier.

The most important chapters, whose in-the-room tales fill in gaps in books by Frances Haugen, Sheera Frankel and Cecilia Kang, and Steven Levy, are those in which Wynn-Williams recounts the company’s decision to embrace politics and build its business in China. If, her bosses reason, politicians become dependent on Facebook for electoral success, they will balk at regulating it. Donald Trump’s 2016 election, which Zuckerberg initially denied had been significantly aided by Facebook, awakened these political aspirations. Meanwhile, Zuckerberg leads the company to build a censorship machine to please China. Wynn-Williams abhors all this – and refuses to work on China. Nonetheless, she holds onto the hope that she can change the company from inside.

Apparently having learned little from Internet history, Meta has turned this book into a bestseller by trying to suppress it. Wynn-Williams managed one interview, with Business Insider, before an arbitrator’s injunction stopped her from promoting the book or making any “disparaging, critical or otherwise detrimental comments” related to Meta. This fits the man Wynn-Williams depicts who hates to lose so much that his employees let him win at board games.

The risks of recklessness

In 1997, when the Internet was young and many fields were still an unbroken green, the United States Institute of Peace convened a conference on virtual diplomacy. In my writeup for the Telegraph, I saw that organizer Bob Schmitt had convened two communities – computer and diplomacy – who were both wondering how they could get the other to collaborate but had no common ground.

On balance, the computer folks, who saw a potential market as well as a chance to do some good, were probably more eager than the diplomats, who favored caution and understood that in their discipline speed was often a bad idea. They were also less attracted than one might think to the notion of virtual meetings despite the travel it would save. Sometimes, one told me, it’s the random conversations around the water cooler that make plain what’s really happening. Why is Brazil mad? In a virtual meeting, it may be harder to find out that it’s not the negotiations but the fact that their soccer team lost last night.

I thought at the time that the conference would be the first of many to tackle these issues. But as it’s turned out, I’ve never been at an event anything like it…until now, nearly 30 years later. This week, a group of diplomats and human rights advocates met, similarly, to consider how the cyber world is changing diplomacy and international relations.

The timing is unexpectedly fortuitous. This week’s revelation that someone added Atlantic editor-in-chief Jeffrey Goldberg to a Signal chat in which US cabinet officials discussed plans for an imminent military operation in Yemen shows the kinds of problems you get when you rely too much on computer mediation. In the usual setting, a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility (SCIF), you can see exactly who’s there, and communications to anyone outside that room are entirely blocked. As a security clearance-carrying friend of mine said, if he’d made such a blunder he’d be in prison.

The Signal blunder was raised by almost every speaker. It highlights something diplomats think about a lot: who is or is not in the room. Today, as in 1997, behavioral cues are important; one diplomat estimated that meeting virtually costs you 50% to 60% of the communication you have when meeting face-to-face. There are benefits, too, of course, such as opening side channels to remote others who can advise on specific questions, or the ability to assemble a virtual team a small country could never afford to send in person.

These concerns have not changed since 1997. But it’s clear that today’s diplomats feel they have less choice about what new technology gets deployed and how than they did then, when the Internet’s most significant predecessor new technology was the global omnipresence of news network CNN, founded in 1980. Now, much of what control they had then is disappearing, both because human behavior overrides their careful, rulebound, friction-filled diplomatic channels and processes via shadow IT, but also because the biggest technology companies own so much of what we call “public” infrastructure.

Another key difference: many people don’t see the need for education to learn facts; it’s a particular problem for diplomats, who rely on historical data to show the world they aspire to build. And another: today a vastly wider array of actors, from private companies to individuals and groups of individuals, can create world events. And finally: in 1997 multinational companies were already challenging the hegemony of governments, but they were not yet richer and more powerful than countries.

Cue for a horror thought: what if Big Tech, which is increasingly interested in military markets, and whose products are increasingly embedded at the hearts of governments decide that peace is bad for business? Already they are allying with politicians to resist human rights principles, most notably privacy.

Which cues another 1997 memory: Nicholas Negroponte absurdly saying that the Internet would bring world peace by breaking down national borders. In 20 years, he said (that would be eight years ago) children would not know what nationalism is. Instead, on top of all today’s wars and internal conflicts, we’re getting virtual infrastructure attacks more powerful than bullets, and proactive agents fueled by large language models. And all fueled by the performative-outrage style of social media, which is becoming just how people speak, publicly and privately.

All this is more salient when you listen to diplomats and human rights activists as they are the ones who see up close the human lives lost. Meta’s name comes up most often, as in Myanmar and Ethiopia.

The mood was especially touchy because a couple of weeks ago a New Zealand diplomat was recalled after questioning US president Donald Trump’s understanding of history during a public panel in London – ironically in Chatham House under the Chatham House rule.

“You say the wrong thing on the wrong platform at the wrong time, and your career is gone,” one observed. Their people perimeter is gone, as it has been for so many of us for a decade or more. But more than most people, diplomats who don’t have trust have nothing. And so: “We’re in a time when a single message can up-end relationships.”

No surprise, then, that the last words reflected 1997’s conclusion: “Diplomacy is still a contact sport.”

Illustrations: Internet meme rewriting Wikipedia’s Alice and Bob page explaining man-in-the-middle attacks with the names Hegseth, Waltz, and Goldberg, referencing the Signal snafu.

Dorothy Parker was wrong

Goldie Hawn squinted into the lights. “I can’t read that,” she said to her co-presenter. “Cataracts.”

It was the 2025 Academy Awards. She was wearing a pale gold gown, and her hair and makeup did their best to evoke the look she’s had ever since she became a star in the 1960s. She is, in fact, 79. But Hollywood 79. Except for the cataracts. I know people who cheered when she said that bit of honesty about her own aging.

Doubtless soon Hawn will join the probably hundreds of millions who’ve had cataract surgery, and at her next awards outing she’ll be able to read the Teleprompter just fine. Because, let’s face it, although the idea of the surgery is scary and although the tabloids painted Hawn’s “condition” as “tragic”, if you’re going to have something wrong with you at 79, cataracts are the least worst. They’re not life-threatening. There’s a good, thoroughly tested treatment that takes less than half an hour. Recovery is short (a few weeks). Side effects, immediate or ongoing, are rare and generally correctable. Treatment vastly improves your quality of life and keeps you independent. Even delaying treatment is largely benign: the cataract may harden and become more complicated to remove, but doesn’t do permanent damage.

Just don’t see the 1929 short experimental film Un Chien Andalou when you’re 18. That famous opening scene with the razor and the eyeball squicks out *everybody*. Thank you, Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali.

I have cataracts. But: I also have a superpower. Like lots of people with extreme myopia, even at 71 I can read the smallest paragraph on the Jaeger eye test in medium-low lighting conditions. I have to hold it four and a half inches from my face, but close-up has always been the only truly reliable part of my vision.

Eye doctors have a clear, shared understanding of what constitutes normal vision, which involves not needing glasses to see at a distance and needing reading glasses around the time you turn 40. So when it comes time for cataract surgery they see it as an opportunity to give you the vision that normal people have.

In the entertainment world, this attitude was neatly summed up in 1926 by the famed acerbic wisecrack and New Yorker writer Dorothy Parker: “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses.” It’s nonsense. Women who wear glasses know it’s nonsense. There was even a movie – How to Marry a Millionaire (1953) – which tackled this silliness by having Marilyn Monroe’s Pola wander around bumping into walls and getting onto wrong planes until she meets Freddie (David Wayne), who tells her to put her glasses on and that he thinks she looks better wearing them. Of course she does. Restoring the ability to see in focus removes the blank cluelessness from her face.

“They should put on your tombstone ‘She loved myopia’,” joked the technician drawing up a specification for the lens they were going to implant. We all laughed. But it’s incorrect, since what I love is not myopia but the intimate feeling of knowing I can read absolutely anything in most lighting conditions.

But kudos: whatever their preferences, they are doing their best to accommodate mine – all credit to the NHS and Moorfields. The first eye has healed quickly, and while the full outcome is still uncertain (it’s too soon) the results look promising.

So, some pointers, culled by asking widely what people wished they’d known beforehand or asked their surgeon.

– Get a diving mask or swimming goggles to wear in the shower because for the first couple of weeks they don’t want all that water (or soap) to get in your eye. (This was the best tip I got, from my local postmaster.)

– A microwaveable heated mask, which I didn’t try, might help if you’re in discomfort (but ask your doctor).

– Plan to feel frustrated for the first week because your body feels fine but you aren’t supposed to do anything strenuous that might raise the pressure in your eye and disrupt its healing. Don’t do sports, don’t lift weights, don’t power walk, don’t bend over with your eyes below your waist, and avoid cooking or anything else that might irritate your eyes and tempt you to scratch or apply pressure. The bright side: you can squat to reach things. And you can walk gently.

– When you ask people what they wish they’d known, many will say “How easy it was” and “I wish I’d done it years earlier”. In your panicked pre-surgery state, this is not helpful. It is true that the operation didn’t hurt (surgeons are attentive to this, because they don’t want you to twitch). It is true that the lights shining on your eye block sight of what they’re doing. I saw a lot of magenta and blue lights. I heard machine sounds, which my surgeon kindly explained as part of fulfilling my request to talk me through it. Some liquid dripped into my hair.

– Take the time you need to prepare, because there’s no undo button.

Think of it as a very scary dental appointment.

Illustrations: Pola (Marilyn Monroe) finding out that glasses can be an asset in How to Marry a Millionaire (1953).

Lost futures

In early December, the Biden administration’s Department of Justice filed its desired remedies, having won its case that Google is a monopoly. Many foresaw a repeat of 2001, when the incoming Bush administration dropped the Clinton DoJ’s plan to break up Microsoft.

Maybe not this time. In its first filing, Trump’s DoJ still wants Google to divest itself of the Chrome browser and intends to bar it from releasing other browsers. The DoJ also wants to impose some restrictions on Android and Google’s AI investments.

At The Register, Thomas Claburn reports that Mozilla is objecting to the DoJ’s desire to bar Google from paying other companies to promote its search engine by default. Those payments, Mozilla president Mark Surman admits to Claburn, keep small independent browsers afloat.

Despite Mozilla’s market shrinkage and current user complaints, it and its fellow minority browsers remain important in keeping the web open and out of full corporate control. It’s definitely counter-productive if the court, in trying to rein in Google’s monopoly, takes away what viability these small players have left. They are us.

***

On the other hand, it’s certainly not healthy for those small independents to depend for their survival on the good will of companies like Google. The Trump administration’s defunding of – among so many things – scientific research is showing just how dangerous it can be.

Within the US itself, the government has announced cuts to indirect funding, which researchers tell me are crippling to universities; $800 million cut in grants to Johns Hopkins, $400 at Columbia University, and so many more.

But it doesn’t stop in the US or with the cuts to USAID, which have disrupted many types of projects around the world, some of them scientific or medical research. The Trump administration is using its threats to scientific funding across the world to control speech and impose its, um, values. This morning, numerous news sources report that Australian university researchers have been sent questionnaires they must fill out to justify their US-funded grants. Among the questions: their links to China and their compliance with Trump’s gender agenda.

To be fair, using grants and foreign aid to control speech is not a new thing for US administrations. For example, Republican presidents going back to Reagan have denied funding to international groups that advocated abortion rights or provided abortions, limiting what clinicians could say to pregnant patients. (I don’t know if there are Democratic comparables.)

Science is always political to some extent: think the for stating that the earth was not the center of the universe. Or take intelligence: in his 1981 book The Mismeasure of Man, Stephen Jay Gould documented a century or more of research by white, male scientists finding that white, male scientists were the smartest things on the planet. Or say it inBig Tobacco and Big Oil, which spent decades covering up research showing that their products were poisoning us and our planet.

The Trump administration’s effort is, however, a vastly expanded attempt that appears to want to squash anything that disagrees with policy, and it shows the dangers of allowing any one nation to amass too much “soft power”. The consequences can come quickly and stay long. It reminds me of what happened in the UK in the immediate post-EU referendum period, when Britain-based researchers found themselves being dropped from cross-EU projects because they were “too risky”, and many left for jobs in other countries where they could do their work in peace.

The writer Prashant Vaze sometimes imagines a future in which India has become the world’s leading scientific and technical superpower. This imagined future seems more credible by the day.

***

It’s strange to read that the 35-year-old domestic robots pioneer, iRobot, may be dead in a year. It seemed like a sure thing; early robotics researchers say that people were begging for robot vacuum cleaners even in the 1960s, perhaps inspired by Rosie, The Jetsons‘ robot maid.

Many people may have forgotten (or not known) the excitement that attended the first Roombas in 2002. Owners gave them names, took them on vacation, and posted videos. It looked like the start of a huge wave.

I bought a Roomba in 2003, reviewing it so enthusiastically that an email complained that I should have said I had been given it by a PR person. For a few happy months it wandered around cleaning.

Then one day it stopped moving and I discovered that long hair paralyzed it. I gave it away and went back to living with moths.

The Roomba now has many competitors, some highly sophisticated, run by apps, and able to map rooms, identify untouched areas, scrub stains, and clean in corners. Even so, domestic robots have not proliferated as imagined 20 – or 12 – years ago. I visit people’s houses, and while I sometimes encounter Alexas or Google Assistants, robot vacuums seem rare.

So much else of smart homes as imagined by companies like Microsoft and IBM remain dormant. It does seem like – perhaps a reflection on my social circle – the “smart home” is just a series of remote-control apps and outsourced services. Meh.

Illustrations: Rosie, the Jetsons‘ XB-500 robot maid, circa 1962.

Unsafe

The riskiest system is the one you *think* you can trust. Say it in encryption: the least secure encryption is encryption that has unknown flaws. Because, in the belief that your communication or data is protected, you feel it’s safe to indulge in what in other contexts would be obviously risky behavior. Think of it like an unseen hole in a condom.

This has always been the most dangerous aspect of the UK government’s insistence that its technical capability notices remain secret. Whoever alerted the Washington Post to the notice Apple received a month ago commanding it to weaken its Advanced Data Protection performed an important public service. Now, Carly Page reports at TechCrunch based on a blog posting by security expert Alec Muffett, the UK government is recognizing that principle by quietly removing from its web pages advice to use that same encryption that was directed at people whose communications are at high risk – such as barristers and other legal professionals. Apple has since withdrawn ADP in the UK.

More important long-term, at the Financial Times, Tim Bradshaw and Lucy Fisher report that Apple has appealed the government’s order to the Investigatory Powers Tribunal. This will be, as the FT notes, the first time government powers under the Investigatory Powers Act (2016) to compel the weakening of security features will be tested in court. A ruling that the order was unlawful could be an important milestone in the seemingly interminable fight over encryption.

***

I’ve long had the habit of doing minor corrections on Wikipedia – fixing typos, improving syntax – as I find them in the ordinary course of research. But recently I have had occasion to create a couple of new pages, with the gratefully-received assistance of a highly experienced Wikipedian. At one time, I’m sure this was a matter of typing a little text, garlanding it with a few bits of code, and garnishing it with the odd reference, but standards have been rising all along, and now if you want your newly-created page to stay up it needs a cited reference for every statement of fact and a minimum of one per sentence. My modest pages had ten to 20 references, some servicing multiple items. Embedding the page matters, too, so you need to link mentions to all those pages. Even then, some review editor may come along and delete the page if they think the subject is not notable enough or violates someone’s copyright. You can appeal, of course…and fix whatever they’ve said the problem is.

It should be easier!

All of this detailed work is done by volunteers, who discuss the decisions they make in full view on the talk page associated with every content page. Studying the more detailed talk pages is a great way to understand how the encyclopedia, and knowledge in general, is curated.

Granted, Wikipedia is not perfect. Its policy on primary sources can be frustrating, and errors in cited secondary sources can be difficult to correct. The culture can be hostile if you misstep. Its coverage is uneven, But, as Margaret Talbot reports at the New Yorker and Amy Bruckman writes in her 2022 book, Should You Believe Wikipedia?, all those issues are fully documented.

Early on, Wikipedia was often the butt of complaints from people angry that this free encyclopedia made by *amateurs* threatened the sustainability of Encyclopaedia Britannica (which has survived though much changed). Today, it’s under attack by Elon Musk and the Heritage Foundation, as Lila Shroff writes at The Atlantic. The biggest danger isn’t to Wikipedia’s funding; there’s no offer anyone can make that would lead to a sale. The bigger vulnerability is the safety of individual editors. Scold they may, but as a collective they do important work to ensure that facts continue to matter.

***

Firefox users are manifesting more and more unhappiness about the direction Mozilla is taking with Firefox. The open source browser’s historic importance is outsized compared to its worldwide market share, which as of February 2025 is 2.63%, according to Statcounter. A long tail of other browsers are based on it, such as LibreWolf, Waterfox, and the privacy-protecting Tor.

The latest complaint, as Liam Proven and Thomas Claburn write at The Register is that Mozilla has removed its commitment not to sell user data from Firefox’s terms and conditions and privacy policy. Mozilla responded that the company doesn’t sell user data “in the way that most people think about ‘selling data'” but needed to change the language because of jurisdictional variations in what the word “sell” means. Still, the promise is gone.

This follows Mozilla’s September 2024 decision, reported by Richard Speed at The Register, to turn on by default a “privacy-preserving feature” to track users that led the NGO noyb to file a complaint with the Austrian data protection authority. And a month ago, Mark Hachman reported at PC World that Mozilla is building access to third-party generative AI chatbots into Firefox, and there are reports that it’s adding “AI-powered tab grouping.

All of these are basically unwelcome, and of all organizations Mozilla should have been able to foresee that. Go away, AI.

***

Molly White is expertly covering the Trump administration’s proposed “US Crypto Reserve”. Remains only to add Rachel Maddow, who compared it to having a strategic reserve of Beanie Babies.

Illustrations:: Beanie baby pelican.

Optioned

The UK’s public consultation on creating a copyright exception for AI model training closed on Tuesday, and it was profoundly unsatisfying.

Many, many creators and rights holders (who are usually on opposing sides when it comes to contract negotiations) have opposed the government’s proposals. Every national newspaper ran the same Make It Fair front page opposing them; musicians released a silent album. In the Guardian, the peer and independent filmmaaker Beeban Kidron calls the consultation “fixed” in favor of the AI companies. Kidron’s resume includes directing Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason (2004) and the meticulously researched 2013 study of teens online, InRealLife, and she goes on to call the government’s preferred option a “wholesale transfer of wealth from hugely successful sector that invests hundreds of millions in the UK to a tech industry that extracts profit that is not assured and will accrue largely to the US and indeed China.”

The consultation lists four options: leave the situation as it is; require AI companies to get licenses to use copyrighted work (like everyone else has to); allow AI companies to use copyrighted works however they want; and allow AI companies to use copyrighted works but grant rights holders the right to opt out.

I don’t like any of these options. I do believe that creators will figure out how to use AI tools to produce new and valuable work. I *also* believe that rights holders will go on doing their best to use AI to displace or impoverish creators. That is already happening in journalism and voice acting, and was a factor in the 2023 Hollywood writers’ strike. AI companies have already shown that won’t necessarily abide by arrangements that lack the force of law. The UK government acknowledged this in its consultation document, saying that “more than 50% of AI companies observe the longstanding Internet convention robots.txt.” So almost half of them *don’t*.

At Pluralistic, Cory Doctorow argued in February 2023 that copyright won’t solve the problems facing creators. His logic is simple: after 40 years of expanding copyright terms (from a maximum of 56 years in 1975 to “author’s life plus 70” now), creators are being paid *less* than they were then. Yes, I know Taylor Swift has broken records for tour revenues and famously took back control of her own work. but millions of others need, as Doctorow writes, structural market changes. Doctorow highlights what happened with sampling: the copyright maximalists won, and now musicians are required to sign away sampling rights to their labels, who pocket the resulting royalties.

For this sort of reason, the status quo, which the consultation calls “option 0”, seems likely to open the way to lots more court cases and conflicting decisions, but provide little benefit to anyone. A licensing regime (“option 1”) will likely go the way of sampling. If you think of AI companies as inevitably giant “pre-monopolized” outfits, like Vladen Joler at last year’s Computers, Privacy, and Data Protection conference, “Option 2” looks like simply making them richer and more powerful at the expense of everyone else in the world. But so does “option 3”, since that *also* gives AI companies the ability to use anything they want. Large rights holders will opt out and demand licensing fees, which they will keep, and small ones will struggle to exercise their rights.

As Kidron said, the government’s willingness to take chances with the country’s creators’ rights is odd, since intellectual property is a sector in which Britain really *is* a world leader. On the other hand, as Moody says, all of it together is an anthill compared to the technology sector.

None of these choices is a win for creators or the public. The government’s preferred option 3 seems unlikely to achieve its twin goals of making Britain a world leader in AI and mainlining AI into the veins of the nation, as the government put it last month.

China and the US both have complete technology stacks *and* gigantic piles of data. The UK is likely better able to matter in AI development than many countries – see for example DeepMind, which was founded here in 2010. On the other hand, also see DeepMind for the probable future: Google bought it in 2014, and now its technology and profits belong to that giant US company.

At Walled Culture, Glyn Moody argued last May that requiring the AI companies to pay copyright industries makes no sense; he regards using creative material for training purposes as “just a matter of analysis” that should not require permission. And, he says correctly, there aren’t enough such materials anyway. Instead, he and Mike Masnick at Techdirt propose that the generative AI companies should pay creators of all types – journalists, musicians, artists, filmmakers, book authors – to provide them with material they can use to train their models, and the material so created should be placed in the public domain. In turn it could become new building blocks the public can use to produce even more new material. As a model for supporting artists, patronage is old.

I like this effort to think differently a lot better than any of the government’s options.

Illustrations:: Tuesday’s papers, unprecedentedly united to oppose the government’s copyright plan.