David Brin in “The Transparent Society” makes the argument that the fight against the spying machines has been lost. We should, therefore, make all of everyone’s data available for public inspection, including the powerful people’s data.

The counter-argument persuades me. If we can’t get them to take down the cameras and databases, what makes you think we’ll get them to open up the databases? We are opposing powerful interests. Do not cede this ground. Cory Doctorow makes this counter-argument in his wonderful novel, “Little Brother.”

The man who becomes our new President in January of 2009 might not be able to dismantle the Surveillance State all by his lonesome. He might need some help. I am feeling patriotic!

Last week, I attempted to refill a regular (not time-limited “weekly” or “monthly”) NYC MetroCard. This card had been leftover from a guest who had stayed with me a few weeks prior. The balance on the card was $9, and it had been left for me to use.

To reload the MetroCard, I chose an MTA vending machine, tapped the touch-screen choosing “refill card”, and then deposited my $20, which it ingested effortlessly. All of a sudden, the machine turned on me. It spit out the card, displayed a big red “Error” on the screen, and wouldn’t return my $20, or give me a receipt of my transaction. I examined the card carefully and noticed that one of the corners had been bent slightly, but I’m not convinced that this was a “card” malfunction vs. a vending machine mechanical failure. If it was a card failure, wouldn’t the machine at least have given me a receipt for the $20 that I’d deposited, and it kept?

I spoke with a nearby MTA clerk who was very kind and gave me a form to fill out to retrieve my $20. However, the form asks you to detail the history of the card in question, for example, when it was last used and where it was purchased. Being that this particular card had been left behind from a friend’s recent visit, I could only guess it had been bought at the station nearest my home. I did know that I had used the card earlier that same day, and it had worked just fine at that point.

I am waiting to hear back from the NYC MTA, and I do hope I get my $20 back, but after going through this process, I wonder how sophisticated their complaint database is against repeated attempts. I often see MetroCards on benches and turnstiles that others have left behind, and I am curious what controls are in place to keep someone from making repeated false complaints about malfunctions with some of those cards? For example, one could answer that the station where the card was found was where it had been purchased (fairly plausible-if a commuter, close to 50% chance?). And, since the card had been tossed most likely because it had run out, it’s pretty safe to guess that that was the last time/place the card had been used. There are other factors-maybe the owner had tried to use the card at that station but it had already run out at the previous station, or perhaps a commuter wouldn’t be as likely to toss their card, but instead refill it. I’m not a statistician, but I’m thinking the guess-factor could have a pretty high rate of return on this one?

So: what formal, historical legitimacy (if any) do these rights have, for example in common law? What might it take to get them explicitly recognized by a modern government?

(These questions may well have well-known answers; I’m being a lazy armchair commentator here, without, like, doing any actual research first.)