1954, a prophet foretold many of our
current dilemmas in privacy law and policy. His name was Alfred Hitchcock. And
the prophecy was his film, Rear Window.
In the movie, photographer L.B. “Jeff”
Jefferies (played by James Stewart) finds himself with a broken leg and
confined to a wheelchair. Stuck at home, but with plenty of telephoto lenses at
his disposal, Jeff amuses himself by watching the world go by through the rear
window of his apartment. His attention is increasingly drawn across the
courtyard to the windows of his neighbors, whom he observes with deepening
curiosity.
One night, Jeff hears a scream come from
a nearby apartment occupied by a troubled couple, Lars Thorwald (played by
Raymond Burr) and his wife. Later, he sees Thorwald take numerous nocturnal trips
in and out of his building, always carrying a large sample case. The wife
having vanished from sight, Jeff comes to believe that Thorwald murdered her,
cut her into pieces, and is systematically disposing of the body.
Jeff involves his girlfriend Lisa, his
visiting nurse Stella, and his policeman friend Lt. Doyle in his efforts to
prove that Thorwald killed his wife. Thorwarld figures out what Jeff is up to
and comes after him. Help arrives in the nick of time, saving Jeff from the
murderous Thorwald, although not quickly enough to keep Jeff from falling out
of the rear window and breaking his other leg.
Rear
Window came out in 1954,
decades before we started worrying about the high tech surveillance state, how
the Internet monitors our behaviors, and the collection and dissemination of
big data. But when I recently watched the film I was struck by how poetically
it anticipates the dilemmas we now face.
On one hand, the film shows us the
advantages of closely observed human activity. In one of the film’s subplots,
Jeff watches over a young female neighbor who becomes increasingly desperate
and potentially suicidal. And, of course, it is only through Jeff’s surveillance
that the police are able to arrest Thorwald, a character played by Raymond Burr
with such brilliant menace that he seems like the very embodiment of
creepiness.
On the other hand, Jeff has some creepiness
of his own.
Lt. Doyle cautions Jeff that there are
parts of other people’s lives we’re not meant to see. He’s right, of course, but
Jeff keeps watching anyway. The habit of surveillance is more easily got than
got rid of.
Also, although some of Jeff’s snooping ends
up serving a greater social good, along the way he takes in a lot of
information that serves no higher end than his own idle curiosity. Like many
systems of data capture, his telephoto lenses sweep with stunning overbreadth
and without discretion.
Further, for all his looking out, Jeff does not want people looking in. At one point when Lt. Doyle is
visiting Jeff he notices Lisa’s open suitcase with her lingerie visible. Jeff
bristles at the intrusion.
And one of the most chilling moments in
the film occurs when Thorwald, realizing that he’s been watched, peers across
the courtyard and through the rear window into Jeff’s apartment. Jeff draws
violently back into the shadows, the observer recoiling at the thought of being
observed.
Of course, Jeff can look through all of
these windows because his neighbors opened them to get some fresh air during an
oppressively hot summer. And we might say that by doing so they assumed the
risk that someone would get a glimpse into things they normally keep hidden
from the world at large. It’s like a cinematographic representation of agreeing
to a website’s privacy terms.
Indeed, it calls the same sorts of
questions. Do these people realize how much of their privacy they’ve
surrendered? Do they understand that someone is watching them through the
enhanced capacities of a telephoto lens? Is the opening of the windows a
reasoned calculation, or an act of blind trust, or a capitulation to the
realities of comfort and convenience? It is, after all, easier to throw open
the window and take your chances than it is to try to protect your privacy—so
it was in 1954, so it is today.
There is surely a required reading list
for those interested in privacy law and policy. In an upcoming blog post, I
will review a book that I think belongs on that list: Privacy Revisited: A Global Perspective on the Right to Be Left Alone by
Professor Ronald J. Krotoszynski, Jr., of the University of Alabama School of
Law.
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