Is it app-ropriate to require personal information for parking?

elevenM’s Tessa Loftus on the experience of technology solutions that are actually privacy intrusions in our everyday life.

Last week, I needed to take my daughter for an early morning urgent medical appointment in Rhodes. My initial delight at easily finding a park quickly turned to consternation when it seemed that the only option to pay for my parking — on a public street — was to download an app.[1]

As anyone who’s ever needed to get to a specialist appointment on time (i.e., everybody) would know, you don’t have the luxury of being late. So, my options seemed to be: download the app without reading the privacy policy, do not download the app and risk a parking fine or find alternative parking.

Despite being a privacy professional, I did as most people would do and downloaded the app, which immediately asked to access my motion and fitness activity (why?), and to send me push notifications. For the app to work, I was required to provide my full name, email, phone number, credit card details and access to my real time location data. This gave the options of once only, only while using the app, or, again oddly, always.

Even if I’d had time to read the privacy policy (which I didn’t in view of our looming appointment), there was no privacy policy linked in the app store, and the page entitled ‘App Privacy’ was blank.

As we noted in our recent blog on the consent catch-22, “Information privacy is often defined in terms of individual control — the ability to determine for yourself when others may collect and how they may use your information.” But moving basic services into privately-operated technological solutions and making them ‘accept or don’t use’ undermines the basic notion of consent. If my options are ‘not parking in this suburb’ or providing my name, email, phone, credit card and real time location to an organisation that doesn’t provide a privacy policy in its app, that is not a real choice, nor is it genuine consent.

Further, where personal information must be provided to use public facilities or to access government services, there is no possibility of a valid ‘consent’ to data processing. I should not have to give up my information to sit on a public bench or park in a public space.

Needless to say, I deleted the app when I left my park. But how do I divorce myself entirely from this app? While deleting the app stops it accessing my location data, it is unlikely that it deletes my data from the database. So now I have to trust in perpetuity that the app developer is protecting my full name, email, phone number, credit card details and location data.

There are simply too many situations where unnecessary collection of information has been slipped into everyday life without people noticing. It is easy to see why a local council and frequent parkers would value the convenience of an app like this, which offers remote extensions of time and linking to a credit card for repeat payments. But what if I don’t want to share my profile with a company I don’t know (or haven’t had time to investigate), or I just want to remain anonymous? What if I am a person who is only thinking about getting where I’m going, and not about digital risk while I’m parking my car, which causes me to make a decision that later causes me harm?

We should all know by now that with innovation and digital convenience come new risks. And it should not be incumbent on consumers to navigate those new risks (especially when they’re under pressure), but rather to be able to trust the system knowing that the rules of participation for data collectors require that people and our social values are protected.

As organisations – both business and government – increasingly look to technology for solutions to the ‘everyday’ we need to ensure that they meet baseline protections. I feel entirely comfortable in buying the cheapest available car seat for my child, because I know that Australia has strong product safety laws and that someone with more expertise than myself has checked that we will be kept safe.

If I must download an app to park my car, the starting assumptions should include data minimisation, strict use limitation and high standards of security. It should not be used as an opportunity to track and monitor me under the fictional guise of consent. I should be able to feel confident that, even if I do not understand the privacy policy, someone who does has ensured that my welfare is protected.

[1]The Canada Bay council website indicates that app-area parking also offers regular parking meters. However this option wasn’t conspicuous to me – the parking sign said ‘phone ticket’, it was underneath a larger sign saying ‘app-name parking area’, and no parking meter was obvious in the vicinity.

 

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

 

When your milk comes with a free iris scan

elevenM’s Melanie Marks’ regular trip to the supermarket brings her face-to-face with emerging privacy issues.

A couple of weeks ago, as I was nonchalantly scanning my groceries, I looked up and was shocked to see a masked face staring back at me. 

After I realised it was my own face, fright turned to relief and then dismay as it hit me that the supermarkets had – without consultation, and with limited transparency – taken away my freedom to be an anonymous shopper buying milk on a Sunday.

Just days later, the press outed Coles for its introduction of cameras at self-service checkouts. Coles justified its roll-out on the basis that previous efforts to deter theft, such as signs that display images of CCTV cameras, threats to prosecute offenders, bag checks, checkout weighing plates and electronic security gates have not been effective and the next frontier is a very close-up video selfie to enjoy as you scan your goodies.

Smart Company reported on the introduction of self-surveillance tech last year, explaining the psychology of surveillance as a deterrent against theft. How much a person steals comes down to their own “deviance threshold” — the point at which they can no longer justify their behaviour alongside a self-perception as a good person.

The supermarkets’ strategy of self-surveillance provides a reminder that we are being watched, which supposedly evokes self-reflection and self-regulation.

This all sounds reason enough. Who can argue with the notion that theft is bad, and we must act to prevent it? We might also recognise the supermarkets’ business process excellence in extending self-service to policing.

Coles argues that they provide notice of the surveillance via large posters and signs at the front of stores. They say that the cameras are not recording, and they claim that the collection of this footage (what collection – if no record is being made?) is within the bounds of its privacy policy (last updated November 2018).

At the time of writing this blog, the Coles privacy policy makes no mention of video surveillance or the capturing of images, though it does cover its use of personal information for “investigative, fraud, and loss prevention” activities.

Woolworths has also attracted criticism over its use of the same software, which it began trialling last year. Recent backlash came after Twitter user @sallyrugg called on the supermarket to please explain any connection between the cameras, credit card data and facial recognition technology it employs. Like Coles, Woolies says no recording takes place at the self-serve registers and that the recent addition it has made to its privacy policy regarding its use of cameras pertains only to the use of standard CCTV in stores.

So it would appear the supermarkets have addressed the concerns. No recordings, no data matching, covered by privacy policy. And my personal favourite: choice: “If you do not wish to be a part of the trial, you are welcome to use the staffed checkouts.

But these responses are not sufficient. Firstly, there is no real choice in relation to the cameras when a staffed checkout is unavailable. Secondly, our notice and consent models are broken, which overstates the actual power granted to consumers by privacy policy. We don’t read them, and even when we do, we have no bargaining power. And lastly, the likelihood of function creep is high. It is not a stretch to imagine that the next step in the trial will be to pilot the recording of images for various purposes, and it could be navigated legally with little constraint.

On a final note, this experience reflects many of the challenges in our current privacy framework including: the balance of consumer interests against commercial interests, the strain on current consent models, and even the desire for a right to be forgotten.

Thankfully, these issues are all being contemplated by the current review of the Privacy Act (read our ongoing blog series on the review here). We need these protections and structures in place, to create a future in which we milk buyers can be free and anonymoos.

Photo by Ali Yahya on Unsplash