When telephone systems began to assign phone numbers to households in the last century, a number of people objected to having their phone numbers (and addresses) published. Thus the concept of the “unlisted number” was born: the phone company would publish your name, address and phone number unless you asked them (and paid them extra) not to.
The definition of what information is considered “public” and what is considered “private” is one that is constantly evolving. Consider for instance the ongoing flap between some communities (as well as the EU) and Google Streetview: does having a picture of your house online—taken from a public road and showing no more than any member of the public would see from the same location—constitute an invasion of privacy? (It should be noted that Google will indeed “unlist” your home’s photo if you ask them to.) The lines are so fuzzy that both the US and the EU publish guidelines on what is considered “public” and what is considered “private” data, mostly in an attempt to stem the huge problem of identity theft.
In the era of Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn and so many other online social networks, many of us voluntarily put a lot of information online that might otherwise be considered private: who we are dating, who we are socializing with, where we are going to dinner, what kind of pets we own, what kind of music we like, what politicians we vote for, etc. In some respects that’s precisely why these sites are so popular: they enable us to have (often) intimate conversations with groups of people that we want to keep in touch with. We expect that these social networks will respect our privacy settings and only share the information as widely as we have designated: I might not care if my circle of friends knew I was attending a certain function, but I might not want co-workers or my employer to know.
If you aren’t already concerned about the amount of information you put online and how it might be (mis)used, you might be after hearing about Robert Collins’ recent experience. During a job interview with the Maryland Department of Corrections, Robert was asked to divulge his Facebook password. Not asked if he had a Facebook account, mind you, or to identify which “Robert Collins” was him on Facebook. They. Asked. For. His. Password. Needless to say, he was understandably shocked that they asked. And not knowing what the right thing to do was, he gave it to them, and then sat stunned (I would have to imagine) while the logged in *as him* and looked at all of his posts, as well as the posts of his Facebook friends.
It goes without saying that this should concern you (it certainly concerns the ACLU). I certainly assume that if I’m applying for a job, all the information I’ve put online for the public to see is fair game for my prospective employer to look at (and if I’m stupid enough to put things on Facebook that would disqualify me for a job, then I have no right to be upset if an employer finds it). But should employers (either in the public or private sector) have any right to request the keys to your Facebook account?
To me, it’s not far removed from asking for the keys to your house so that they can come in and poke around. After all, the argument goes, if you aren’t doing anything wrong, you don’t have anything to worry about. Here’s a tip: if anyone ever uses that phrase, you can assume someone is about to invade your privacy. Probably illegally.
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