If only these firewalls could talk

*this post is for class*

Privacy in real life and privacy online are two very different things. In real life, it’s as simple as going into your boudoir and closing the door behind you. On the World Wide Web, everyone’s boudoir is public domain. Google and Facebook have essentially told “privacy” where to stick it, and as an aspiring writer and professional snoop, I couldn’t be happier.

Online, there is no such thing as a well-kept secret. Online, you don’t have friends, but rather hundreds and hundreds of acquaintances or as I like to call them, for the sake of this argument, "contacts".

In this biz, or so I’m told, connections are paramount. It’s not what you know, but rather who you know, and by knowing who you know, you can expand on what you know. And the internet, more specifically Facebook, knows everyone and everything.

Being inexperienced, young, and then by nature somewhat lazy, Facebook and Google have been fundamental to my learning experience in University. When my first feature rolls around, and I need to find a gaggle of girls who are willing to discuss the fortitude and necessity of sex toys, posting a mass cattle call for all sex toy aficionados on Facebook, where I know hundreds of friends (see: acquaintances; contacts) will see it, is a hell of a lot easier than walking up to people in Eaton Centre and saying:

“Hey, I’m from Ryerson. Do you use a dildo?”

Not only does the web threaten privacy in a technical/digital/.com sense (spyware etc.), but it also encourages people to sweep privacy under the rug for an average of 13.5 hours a week. Assume we’re back in the mall and I’m surveying people about their sex lives again – the number of people who will admit to owning an “NJOY Fun Wand 5001” to my face is far fewer than those who will admit it to my Facebook.

In December, when a girl passed away in Ryerson’s Pitman Hall residence and everyone’s lips were sealed, it appeared that no ones fingers were bound. It took all of three minutes after hearing the buzz on campus to double-click my way to the truth. On Facebook, a group was formed in memory of Adele Turcotte, 17, probably only minutes after her body was removed from her dorm room.

For whatever reason, the university was hesitant to release any information during the first few days, but her friends and roommates couldn’t wait to spill Pitman’s classified blather out onto the web for all to see. It was through Facebook that the Eyeopener (Ryerson’s better publication) was able to gather details and information on the death, and find people close to Turcotte who would (obviously) be willing to comment.

Journalists don’t like secrets. The entire job revolves around the belief that the public deserves to know. Facebook and Google don’t like secrets either, and that makes the job a little bit easier. With the web, it’ easy to find the story, or track down people who can find it for you. Lately, all we hear about is how our society is disintegrating into a heaving, creeping mess of voyeurism. The timing couldn't be better. I graduate in two years.