Forget Big Brother Facebook – it’s sneaky little sisters we really need to worry about

January 20, 2012

By Robert Dwek 

Talk about love-hate relationships. We read this week that Facebook – with a mere 800 million plus accounts worldwide – is now among America’s most hated companies – thanks to the perception that it doesn’t really care about its users’ privacy.

When are we finally going to have the real debate about privacy – the one relevant to the 21st rather than the 20th century ? It’s what we might call Big Brother versus little brother, for reasons that will become clear in a moment.

Facebook was founded, as we all know thanks to the movie, by college geeks who wanted to assess the “fitness” of female students. In that respect, it was an extension of American high school, where the only privacy invaders are your peers.

This Facebook DNA has remained at the core of the company, no matter how world-conquering and gargantuan it has become. The Big Brother is not so much the evil corporate that is Facebook HQ – or for that matter the evil corporates who pay Facebook to promote themselves. No, the Big Brother lurking deep within Facebook is in fact … us. We, the 800 million users.

And that brings me neatly onto my little brother – actually, little sister – story. The other day my younger sibling who lives far across the sea, popped up on my computer screen, via Google Talk, with the words: “Enjoying Abba are we ?” What the ?! How the !! did she know my partner had been blaring out a bunch of Abba songs on her iPhone ? For a couple of seconds it was quite spooky.

But the (prosaic) answer came soon enough. I’d forgotten that sometime recently, in yet another unmemorable online moment, I’d allowed Spotify to tell the Facebook universe all about my music-listening habits. That is why Spotify-Facebook assumed it was me listening to Abba and put words to this effect on my Facebook page.

Here’s the problem when it comes to the potential evil of Big Brother: corporates like Facebook and Spotify – both relying on incredibly small numbers of employees relative to their global reach – will do almost nothing of interest with this data that they have collected about “me”.

These companies – and indeed most modern companies – have neither the resources nor the inclination to exploit all this data that they are supposedly collecting. I remember writing breathless stuff about the “database revolution” back in the early ‘90s, waxing lyrical about the impending golden age of “personalisation” and “one-to-one” marketing that was about to dawn. Well, frankly, it never did.

Most companies are utterly incompetent in using our data. Phone calls that are “recorded for training purposes” disappear into a black hole of indifference.

But marketers persist in believing their own propaganda. More to the point, consumers believe in it too!

The fact is, Big Brother died with the end of communism – he’s so last century. Little brother, however, or indeed little sister, is alive and well. Marketers finally caught onto little bro when they realised they were too lazy and incompetent to do the spying themselves. So they outsourced it – to their customers.

OK, I’m being somewhat tongue in cheek. Is forwarding a “viral” email spying ? Is my little sister’s commenting on my apparent musical taste something sinister ? Odd and unexpected, maybe, but sinister, no. The point is that We-The-People, we the seething mass of little brothers and sisters – we are the only ones who give enough of a damn to spy on each other.

So, the potential “evil” of a massively understaffed company like Facebook amounts to no more than its ability to empower our voyeurism.

The thing we should “hate” in a “most hated company” is not what they might do with our data but what we might do with it. And maybe we should be grateful for small mercies: my sister at least did something, and in a very timely way, with the information presented.

God bless outsourcing.

Robert Dwek is a writer, journalist and blogger, whose interests include marketing and social media.

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Baz, Big Brother’s Hero of Our Time

August 27, 2009

Peter BazalgetteI am indebted to my former colleague, Iain Murray, for reminding me not so much that Peter Bazalgette – the impresario behind Big Brother – is the great-great-grandson of Sir Joseph Bazalgette, but of what they have in common. It seems that genetic inheritance, if dominant enough, will out. Sir Joseph was an eminent Victorian engineer, one of whose grand achievements was the construction of the London sewerage system. Peter’s great achievement has been mapping the cesspool of the human soul, via reality television.

The first was undoubtedly a philanphropist, who happened to work for money. The other, I’m not so sure about. Gifted, witty, an after-dinner speaker worth paying money to hear; commercially adroit; along with David Elstein one of the most intelligent and perceptive commentators on the current media scene; a first-class psychologist. Yes, all these things are true. And yet the key adjective that comes to mind is “cynical”: not in his manner, but in the nature of his achievement. It’s the kind of cool, cultured cynicism of the Roman aristocrat of yesteryear, who – personally disdainful of animal bloodshed and human sacrifice in the arena – nevertheless proves a superlative organiser of the emperor’s “bread and circuses” entertainments programme designed to keep the unwashed masses compliant.

Bazalgette didn’t invent Big Brother, and he certainly didn’t come up with reality TV (although he has, in his time, been a fertile inventor of TV formats). Where he was smart was in grasping the reality format’s potential, back in 1999. To fill the void of values, in the wake of declining conventional ideological beliefs and the collapse of social deference, we have celebrity culture. That is to say, having destroyed the old idols we feel bereft and have to seek out new ones to worship. But where to find them? Magazines, from ¡Hola! to Heat, provide only limited production value; nothing by comparison with television when it comes to manufacturing instant stardom and providing gratification for our voyeuristic instincts. In this egalitarian age, the compelling thing about these instant wannabe idols is that they are just like you and me. All right, they may scream a bit louder, they may be more self-obsessed and emote a great deal more than the rest of us, but on one thing we can all be agreed: they, like us, have feet of clay. And in that we have the essence of their entertainment value.

Taking things a stage further, Bazalgette was quick to realise he held the whip-hand with our political, media and cultural elites – the “twittering classes” of which he is a renegade scion. They might sneer at what they saw, but by degrees they found themselves sucked into Big Brother’s maelstrom whether they liked it or not. And often they did not: it was a humiliating experience. Germaine Greer, for example, proposed herself as a human experiment, but found she couldn’t take the relentless exposure. On a personal note, Bazalgette’s most triumphant moment must surely have occured when he had to turn down haughty media grandee Jeremy Paxman for an interview with ousted BB candidate George Galloway MP, because it broke the House rules. As for the newspapers, he had them in the palm of his hand. Declining circulations and a loss of young readers meant they had no option but to cover the climax of a BB series on their front pages.

And where the newspapers led, the political class surely had to follow. “It is entirely legitimate to regard politics as a popularity contest,” Bazalgette once wrote. “After all, what you think of the person you are going to entrust power to for five years is pretty crucial. And in the close-up age of Big Brother and Heat magazine, our expectations are raised.”  A pretty flip explanation, you might say, for the appearance of Galloway or Christine Hamilton, wife of the disgraced Neil, but you know what he means.

Last and not least, Bazalgette was on top of the multimedia implications of reality TV right from the start. Only formally was BB a television show. It also embraced internet and mobile audiences, 24/7. In that lay a further little goldmine, surplus to Channel 4′s sponsorship and advertising revenue extracted from the TV programme.

I remember Bazalgette – at the Marketing Week Madrid Media Conference in 2001 soon after BB first aired – confidently predicting the eventual collapse of its blockbuster viewing figures. He, at least, was under no illusion about its ephemeral appeal. And, to prove the point, he has long since moved on from production company Endemol. Now viewers are down to 2 million, Channel 4 is finally calling time. But if BB is dead, the reality entertainment concept – or something very like it – is destined to live on.


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