Writing a blog that no one can find is like writing a diary, except you wish no one ever read it. I have both and recently I found my validation from pouring my heart out on the web as well as reading other peoples bleeding hearts on BI and Guardian News. It’s party on the internet. This absolutely selfish deed is simultaneously allowing the free flow of information, both useful and not, facilitating collective consciousness of the human kind! Except those times when you facilitate collective consciousness more than certain individuals would like you too.
Using Snowden’s and Assange’s examples now as cautionary tales rather than ongoing migraine for secret services , we can also dismiss the alleged freedom of speech. Not because sharing your concern on current affairs is fundamentally wrong, but maybe, because freedom of speech actually never existed by definition.
Digital privacy is virtually non existent – including your correspondence privacy (breaking a constitutional law here a little bit, but who cares right? It’s a democracy!). Internet is now logging your deleted text entry? That’s fine because, sorry, why is that fine again? This is embarrassing considering how many times I’ve written an angry email to my exes and never sending it, gosh if they ever come out the world will be a very angry place.
I am indeed exaggerating, but unfortunately we will miss that line when it will become normal, because you will never hear about it. That’s why I love diaries. That special warm feeling when you open a note book with carefully scribbled words in it. It’s a rendezvous with yourself where you can experience genuine intimacy of your thoughts and opinions without being arrested for it. It’s challenging to keep privacy in big brother society, luckily we still can afford the luxury of privacy in a form of written word with pen and paper.