Boarding a Chinese train requires 4 levels of security clearance. First your ticket and ID are cross-checked at an airport style check-in desk. Next you must queue to put your bag through an X-ray scanner before stepping on to a soapbox for a full body pat-down. Finally, having queued at the boarding gate, you’ll have your ticket checked once more and be allowed to proceed to the platform.
Negotiating such comprehensive security measures on our trip has not been limited to travel in China. 70s hippies who arrived in India and were said to have promptly fed their passports to cows would not recognise it today. Tourists must now present their passports to check in to even the most laid back of Goan beach huts. In the majority of hotels mugshots are taken at check-in and on one or two occasions again when checking out – presumably in case you’ve been involved in some Nicholas Cage style face-off during your stay. “It’s government regulations” is the reply to the inevitable “What for?”
Any London tube veteran would quake at the prospect of the Chinese or Indian metro security measures being introduced in London (ironically the only one of the three places that’s experienced a major underground bomb attack). The prospect of joining a queue for a bag scanner and a full body pat-down at Victoria station at 8am would be unthinkable to many.
I’ve realised that my own response to these security measures varies wildly and is related to perceived threat. Being photographed in order to stay in a South Indian shack made me depressed and resentful, but I didn’t mind when a video camera was shoved in my face by police on a bus in Abbotabad, Pakistan. The greatest danger I associated with the former was persistent bead sellers or ear cleaners – the latter I associated with sensational stories of gun fights and al-Queda.
As a data geek with a lot of time on trains to kill, I started wondering about potential uses for the data that’s gathered about us. With access to large volumes of hotel and travel records, Chinese and Indian authorities could build up a detailed picture of the movements of citizens and tourists alike, regardless of whether or not they’ve been the victim or perpertrator of a crime.
Extensive data gathering is just one of the many systems of government control we’ve witnessed. Police in Istanbul had established a semi-permanent water cannon arsenal in the centre of the main shopping street. In the context of recent history, when protests to save a public park were violently crushed by police, the presence of these weapons seemed sinister and oppressive.
Water cannon haven’t yet been seen on the streets of London, but I suspect mayor Boris Johnson understands well the link between perceived threat and people’s readiness to accept drastic security measures. He snapped up the chance to buy water cannon in the wake of the widely condemned 2011 riots, hoping many would accept he had sufficient reason for acquiring weapons designed specifically for use against civilians. Ostensibly they are being kept in case of a similar bout of rioting. In reality they can be deployed to break up any gathering the Home Secretary gives them approval to.
We read with horror Western media reports on pervasive and oppressive government control in China, but this is increasingly reflected in the West. The recently elected government of the UK is expected to revive the ‘Snooper’s Charter’ in the Queen’s speech today, designed to grant them extensive powers to gather data from our private conversations. The previous coalition government already oversaw extensive censorship of web content by internet service providers.
Whether or not you support the political aims of the current government, increased powers of surveillance and weapons to control civilians will no doubt be used to support those aims. Any changes in the law will be permanent and will be open to use or abuse by successive governments. Let’s not be hoodwinked by the old lie: ‘If you have nothing to hide you have nothing to fear.’
Scamps on a train 