FACIAL RECOGNITION TECHNOLOGY OR PUBLIC ANONYMITY?

It was in Tokyo 1880 that the first conviction based on finger printing took place. In due course the technique spread and its development and implementation in the first years of the 20th century led to high profile convictions in UK in 1902. Around this time Scotland Yard had built massive data bases which revolutionised the conviction rates of police forces throughout the country.

It was 10 September 1984 at Leicester University that the world's first genetic fingerprint emerged. Since that Eureka moment DNA has revolutionised the science of criminology amongst many medical and other scientific innovations which have benefitted millions of people worldwide. However both these aids to police enforcement initially met with some scepticism as did the introduction of new techniques throughout history from the bow and arrow to the steam engine or spinning jenny.


Today it`s almost impossible for a week to go by without news of some controversy on the subject of police using facial recognition AI. As with the argument employed over a century ago enhanced crime solving is at the root of the argument for those charged with enforcing the law but finger printing was applied mainly to those whom police suspected were in some way connected to an offence however remotely or for the elimination of their involvement. Mass facial recognition can rapidly match suspects to CCTV footage, cold case evidence, or wanted databases cutting investigation times from weeks to hours. Socially, communities with high crime rates might welcome the tool but over time risk normalising pervasive surveillance as a permanent feature of public life. Proponents of facial recognition technology [FRT] argue the technology can flag known terrorists at airports, stadiums or large events before an attack occurs. FRT has been used to identify trafficking victims and missing children giving it a strong humanitarian framing. If this argument prevails it becomes politically toxic to oppose the technology outright forcing critics into a defensive posture. Socially it creates a permissive norm "if it saves children" that can be extended to far broader applications. The question is how far can or should the technology be extended.


There are classic arguments against the use or wider use of FRT. Perhaps the most persuasive is what effects does mass surveillance have on civil liberties. Even when accurate the knowledge that one's movements are tracked in public fundamentally alters behaviour. People might avoid protests, places of worship or political gatherings. Political success of this argument energises civil liberties coalitions across the left-right spectrum (libertarian conservatives and progressive liberals often unite here). Socially, if the argument fails, democracies quietly cross a threshold into infrastructures of control previously associated with authoritarian states with little prospect of reversal. Currently there is a lack of legal framework and accountability. In some jurisdictions police have deployed FRT with no specific legislation governing its use, data retention or oversight. In such a scenario the precedent is set that novel surveillance technologies can be adopted by executive agencies without democratic consent weakening legislative authority over policing.


There is the old adage; "Give the devil a finger and he will bite off your arm". In many cases the government is that devil. Technology introduced for serious crime quickly migrates to minor offences, immigration enforcement and political monitoring. The political repercussion of ignoring this argument is substantial: governments that promise limited use rarely deliver it and once infrastructure exists successive administrations inherit and expand it. Socially, this gradually redefines the relationship between citizen and state moving from presumption of innocence in public spaces to presumption of identifiability.


Studies have shown FRT systems have significantly higher error rates for darker-skinned faces and women, meaning black and minority communities face disproportionate risk of wrongful identification. If this argument gains political traction it can lead to legislative restrictions or outright bans (as occurred in several US cities).


Most FRT systems are built and maintained by private companies raising questions about who ultimately controls the data. Political success of this critique can lead to data sovereignty legislation and restrictions on private-sector involvement.


The core tension is fundamentally one of collective security -v- individual liberty; a perennial democratic dilemma. What makes FRT particularly consequential is its scalability: unlike a stop and search, it can surveil millions simultaneously, meaning the stakes of getting the policy wrong are unusually high in either direction. Facial recognition technology is being deployed on British streets by British police forces operating largely outside any statutory British framework. Parliament has not legislated; the courts have not settled the boundaries and the public has not consented. A technology capable of identifying every person in a public space demands primary legislation, not policy guidance. Government must decide: is anonymity in public a right, or merely a convenience it has the authority to withdraw? Do we want more or do we demand less?