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Category: Sociology of Law

Industrial Policy for Big Data

If you are childless, shop for clothing online, spend a lot on cable TV, and drive a minivan, data brokers are probably going to assume you’re heavier than average. We know that drug companies may use that data to recruit research subjects.  Marketers could utilize the data to target ads for diet aids, or for types of food that research reveals to be particularly favored by people who are childless, shop for clothing online, spend a lot on cable TV, and drive a minivan.

We may also reasonably assume that the data can be put to darker purposes: for example, to offer credit on worse terms to the obese (stereotype-driven assessment of looks and abilities reigns from Silicon Valley to experimental labs).  And perhaps some day it will be put to higher purposes: for example, identifying “obesity clusters” that might be linked to overexposure to some contaminant

To summarize: let’s roughly rank these biosurveillance goals as: 

1) Curing illness or precursors to illness (identifying the obesity cluster; clinical trial recruitment)

2) Helping match those offering products to those wanting them (food marketing)

3) Promoting the classification and de facto punishment of certain groups (identifying a certain class as worse credit risks)

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Trust is What Makes an Expectation of Privacy Reasonable

A few weeks ago, I defined trust as a favorable expectations as to the behavior of others. It refers to a behavior that reduces uncertainty about others to levels that us to function alongside them. This is a sociological definition; it refers directly to interpersonal interaction. But how does trust develop between persons? And is that trust sufficiently reasonable to merit society’s and the state’s protection. What follows is part of an ongoing process of developing the theory of privacy-as-trust. It is by no means a final project just yet. I look forward to your comments.

Among intimates, trust may emerge over time as the product of an iterative exchange; this type of trust is relatively simple to understand and generally considered reasonable. Therefore, I will spend little time proving the reasonableness of trust among intimates.

But social scientists have found that trust among strangers can be just as strong and lasting as trust among intimates, even without the option of a repeated game. Trust among strangers emerges from two social bases—sharing a stigmatizing identity and sharing trustworthy friends. When these social elements are part of the context of a sharing incident among relative strangers, that context should be considered trustworthy and, thus, a reasonable place for sharing.

Traditionally, social scientists argued that trust developed rationally over time as part of an ongoing process of engagement with another: if a interacts with b over t=0 to t=99 and b acts in a trustworthy manner during those interactions, a is in a better position to predict that b will act trustworthy at t=100 than if a were basing its prediction for t=10 on interactions between t=0 and t=9. This prediction process is based on past behavior and assumes the trustor’s rationality as a predictor. Given those assumptions, it seems relatively easy to trust people with whom we interact often.

But trust also develops among strangers, none of whom have the benefit of repeated interaction to make fully informed and completely rational decisions about others. In fact, a decision to trust is never wholly rational, it is a probability determination; “trust begins where knowledge ends,” as Niklas Luhmann said. What’s more, trust not only develops earlier than the probability model would suggest; in certain circumstances, trust is also strong early on, something that would seem impossible under a probability approach to trust. Sometimes, that early trust among strangers is the result of a cue of expertise, a medical or law degree, for example. But trust among lay strangers cannot be based on expertise or repeated interaction, and yet, sociologists have observed that such trust is quite common.

I argue that reasonable trust among strangers emerges when one of two things happen: when (1) strangers share a stigmatizing social identity or (2) share a strong interpersonal network. In a sense, we transfer the trust we have in others that are very similar to a stranger to the stranger himself or use the stranger’s friends as a cue to his trustworthiness. Sociologists call this a transference process whereby we take information about a known entity and extend it to an unknown entity. That is why trust via accreditation works: we transfer the trust we have in a degree from Harvard Law School, which we know, to one of its graduates, whom we do not. But transference can also work among persons. The sociologist Mark Granovetter has shown that economic actors transfer trust to an unknown party based on how embedded the new person is in a familiar and trusted social network. That is why networking is so important to getting ahead in any industry and why recommendation letters from senior, well-regarded, or renowned colleagues are often most effective. This is the theory of social embeddedness: someone will do business with you, hire you as an employee, trade with you, or enter into a contract with you not only if you know a lot of the same people, but if you know a lot of the right people, the trustworthy people, the parties with whom others have a long, positive history. So it’s not just how many people you know, it’s who you know.

The same is true outside the economic context. The Pew Internet and American Life Project found that of those teenagers who use online social networks and have online “friends” that they have never met off-line, about 70 % of those “friends” had more than one mutual friend in common. Although Pew did not distinguish between types of mutual friends, the survey found that this was among the strongest factors associated with “friending” strangers online. More research is needed.

The other social factor that creates trust among strangers is sharing a salient in-group identity. But such trust transference is not simply a case of privileging familiarity, at best, or discrimination, at worst. Rather, sharing an identity with a group that may face discrimination or has a long history of fighting for equal rights is a proxy for one of the greatest sources of trust among persons: sharing values. At the outset, sharing an in-group identity is an easy shorthand for common values and, therefore, is a reasonable basis for trust among strangers.

Social scientists call transferring known in-group trust to an unknown member of that group category-driven processing or category-based trust. But I argue that it cannot just be any group and any identity; trust is transferred when a stranger is a member of an in-group, the identity of which is defining or important for the trustor. For example, we do not see greater trust between men and other men perhaps because the identity of manhood is not a salient in-group identity. More likely, the status of being a man is not an adequate cue that a male stranger shares your values. Trust forms and is maintained with persons with similar goals and values and a perceived interest in maintaining the trusting relationship. But it is sharing values you find most important that breed trust.For example, members of the LGBT community are, naturally, more likely to support the freedom to marry for gays and lesbians than any other group. Therefore, sharing an in-group identity that constitutes an important part of a trustor’s persona operates as a cue that the trustee shares values important to that group.

What makes these factors—salient in-group identity and social embeddedness—the right bases for establishing when trust among strangers is reasonable and, therefore, when it should be protected by society, is that the presence of these factors is what justifies our interpersonal actions. We look for these factors, we decide to share on these bases, and our expectations of privacy are based on them.

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What Makes a Stranger Not So Strange

Most of the literature on trust among strangers comes from game theorists. Scholars perform simulations of so-called “trust games” to suggest that “impersonal trust” can develop under this or that circumstance. This literature is voluminous (the previous link is just one of many hits from a JSTOR search). The mere fact that trust among repeat actors can be seen in repeated evolutionary games should, at the very least, complicate a legal doctrine that necessarily extinguishes privacy upon disclosures. But you don’t have to understand (or agree) with game theorists to see the problem with such a bright line rule.

Over the last year, I observed different types of support group meetings, including Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous, and an HIV-positive support group. I interviewed several members, though many members declined to be interviewed, as I expected. These support groups thrive on privacy and anonymity. The very characteristic that made me want to study them was the very thing that would make it hard: members of such groups tend to know everything about a specific area of each other’s lives (their addiction), but often know precious little about a participant’s life and identity outside of what brought him to the group in the first place. In many cases, outside of the sponsor-recovering relationship, even last names remain unknown. And yet they share a secret that, unfortunately, retains a significant stigma in greater society.

This knowledge asymmetry is not always the case, I must admit. But for now, let’s accept the scenario: Participants are veritable strangers, except they know this one big secret about each other. This was in fact the story for most of the people I interviewed. And although this type of ethnography must always be a dubious source for grand conclusions about wide populations, we can still ask: Why do recovering addicts share their stigmatizing secret with strangers?

My research suggests it is because they all share the same stigmatizing secret. It is not simply that everyone shares the same secret or the same identity. People who are all Libras or all white males or all like Maroon5 do not necessarily feel a comfort level with those who were born at the same time, look the way they do, and listen to the same music, respectively. Rather, the shibboleth of a willingness to open up among strangers in this context is that everyone shares a stigmatizing identity. They trust each other not because they know them but because they know what they’ve been through in the greater world. And this is entirely reasonable.

I think this trust exists in other areas of life and not just in the unique support group environment. If it does, if trust develops among individuals who share a stigmatizing identity, then trust among so-called strangers can exist such that individuals would not be assuming the risk of further disclosure of a secret revealed to such a stranger.

I have designed a study to test this, using accepting/declining “friend” requests from strangers as a proxy. It is an imperfect proxy, but trust is hard to measure. But if we can control for other factors and see that friend requests from strangers are accepted more frequently by individuals who share a defining, stigmatizing characteristic — sexual minority status, is just one example — then we may have found a social determinant of trust among strangers.

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Why Some Risk Sending Intimate Pictures to “Strangers” and What It Says About Privacy

It is, as always, an honor and a pleasure to speak with the Co-Op community. Thank you to Danielle for inviting me back and thank yous all around for inviting me onto your desks, into your laps, or into your hands.

My name is Ari and I teach at New York Law School. In fact, I am honored to have been appointed Associate Professor of Law and Director of the Institute for Information Law and Policy this year at NYLS, an appointment about which I am super excited and will begin this summer. I am also finishing my doctoral dissertation in sociology at Columbia University. My scholarship focuses on the law and policy of Internet social life, and I am particularly focused on online privacy, the injustices and inequalities in unregulated online social spaces, and the digital implications for our cultural creations.

Today, and for most of this month, I want to talk a little bit about the relationship between strangers, intimacy, and privacy.

Over the last 2 years, I have conducted quantitative surveys and qualitative interviews with almost 1,000 users of any of the several gay-oriented geolocation platforms, the most famous of which is “Grindr.” These apps are described (or, derided, if you prefer) as “hook up apps,” or tools that allow gay men to meet each other for sex. That does happen. But the apps also allow members of a tightly identified and discriminated group to meet each other when they move to a knew town and don’t know anyone, to make friends, and to fall in love. Grindr, my survey respondents report, has created more than its fair share of long term relationships and, in equality states, marriages.

But Grindr and its cousins are, at least in part, about sex, which is why the app is one good place to study the prevalence of sharing intimate photographs and the sharers’ rationales. My sample is a random sample of a single population: gay men. Ages range from 18 to 59 (I declined to include anyone who self-reported as underage); locations span the globe. My online survey asked gay men who have used the app for more than one week at any time in the previous 2 years. This allowed me to focus on actual users rather than those just curious. Approximately 68 % of active users reported having sent an intimate picture of themselves to someone they were chatting with. I believe the real number is much higher. Although some of those users anonymized their initial photo, i.e., cropped out their head or something similar, nearly 89 % of users who admitted sending intimates photos to a “stranger” they met online also admitted to ultimately sending an identifiable photo, as well. And, yet, not one respondent reported being victimized, to their knowledge, by recipient misuse of an intimate photograph. Indeed, only a small percentage (1.9) reported being concerned about it or letting it enter into their decision about whether to send the photo in the first place.

I put the word “stranger” in quotes because I contend that the recipients are not really strangers as we traditionally understand the term. And this matters: You can’t share something with a stranger and expect it to remain private. Some people argue you can’t even do that with a close friend: you assume the risk of dissemination when you tell anyone anything, some say. But, at least, the risk is so much higher with strangers such that it is difficult for some to imagine a viable expectation of privacy argument when you chose to share intimate information with a stranger. I disagree. Sharing something with a “stranger” need not always extinguish your expectation of privacy and your right to sue under an applicable privacy tort if the intimate information is shared further.

A sociologist would say that a “stranger” is a person that is unknown or with whom you are not acquainted. The law accepts this definition in at least some respects: sometimes we say that individuals are “strangers in the eyes of the law,” like a legally married same-sex couple when they travel from New Jersey to Mississippi. I argue that the person on the other end of a Grindr chat is not necessarily a stranger because nonverbal social cues of trustworthiness, which can be seen anywhere, are heightened by the social group affinity of an all-gay male environment.

Over the next few weeks, I will tease out the rest of this argument: that trust, and, therefore, expectations of privacy, can exist among strangers. Admittedly, I’m still working it out and I would be grateful for any and all comments in future posts.

I’ve heard people say books are getting more ‘gritty’, meaning more violent and less stylised in general. The realism there might be in terms of warrior not shrugging off their wounds and being fine the next day etc. Researched realism and detailed city/country mechanics are not something I was aware of a movement toward. To me nothing is added by, for example, the author working out a grain distribution network. I’m interested in story and character, not mechanics.

— Mark L.

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Law and Hard Fantasy Interview Series: Mark Lawrence

Broken-EmpireI’ve sporadically run an interview series with fantasy authors who generally write in the burgeoning genre of gritty / hard / dark epic fantasy.  (I’m, obviously, a fan.)  The series began with this book review post, and continued with interviews of George R. R. Martin and Patrick Rothfuss.  The series continues today as I interview Mark Lawrence.  Mark is the author of the Broken Empire trilogy, and the forthcoming Red Queen’s War.  His work has been lauded on both sides of the Atlantic (Mark was raised in the U.K., where he works as a research scientist).  He was gracious enough to respond to my email queries, which follow after the jump.

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Some Brilliant Thoughts on Social Media

The LSE has a consistently illuminating podcast series, but Nick Couldry’s recent lecture really raised the bar. He seamlessly integrates cutting edge media theory into a comprehensive critique of social media’s role in shaping events for us. I was also happy to hear him praise the work of two American scholars I particularly admire: former Co-Op guest blogger Joseph Turow (whose Daily You was described as one of the most influential books of the past decade in media studies), and Julie Cohen (whose Configuring the Networked Self was featured in a symposium here).

I plan on posting some excerpts if I can find a transcript, or a published version of the talk. In the meantime, some more brilliant thoughts on social media, this time from Ian Bogost:

For those of us lucky enough to be employed, we’re really hyperemployed—committed to our usual jobs and many other jobs as well. . . . Hyperemployment offers a subtly different way to characterize all the tiny effort we contribute to Facebook and Instagram and the like. It’s not just that we’ve been duped into contributing free value to technology companies (although that’s also true), but that we’ve tacitly agreed to work unpaid jobs for all these companies. . . . We do tiny bits of work for Google, for Tumblr, for Twitter, all day and every day.

Today, everyone’s a hustler. But now we’re not even just hustling for ourselves or our bosses, but for so many other, unseen bosses. For accounts payable and for marketing; for the Girl Scouts and the Youth Choir; for Facebook and for Google; for our friends via their Kickstarters and their Etsy shops; for Twitter, which just converted years of tiny, aggregated work acts into $78 of fungible value per user.

And perhaps also for the NSA. As participants in 2011′s Digital Labor conference gear up for a reprise, I’m sure we’ll be discussing these ideas.

Management Wants Precarity: A California Ideology for Employment Law

LaborShareThe reader of Talent Wants to be Free effectively gets two books for the price of one. As one of the top legal scholars on the intersection of employment and intellectual property law, Prof. Lobel skillfully describes key concepts and disputes in both areas. Lobel has distilled years of rigorous, careful legal analysis into a series of narratives, theories, and key concepts. Lobel brings legal ideas to life, dramatizing the workplace tensions between loyalty and commitment, control and creativity, better than any work I’ve encountered over the past decade. Her enthusiasm for the subject matter animates the work throughout, making the book a joy to read. Most of the other participants in this symposium have already commented on how successful this aspect of the book is, so I won’t belabor their points.

Talent Want to Be Free also functions as a second kind of book: a management guide. The ending of the first chapter sets up this project, proposing to advise corporate leaders on how to “meet the challenge” of keeping the best performers from leaving, and how “to react when, inevitably, some of these most talented people become competitors” (26). This is a work not only destined for law schools, but also for business schools: for captains of industry eager for new strategies to deploy in the great game of luring and keeping “talent.” Reversing Machiavelli’s famous prescription, Lobel advises the Princes of modern business that it is better to be loved than feared. They should celebrate mobile workers, and should not seek to bind their top employees with burdensome noncompete clauses. Drawing on the work of social scientists like AnnaLee Saxenian (68), Lobel argues that an ecology of innovation depends on workers’ ability to freely move to where their talents are best appreciated.

For Lobel, many restrictions on the free flow of human capital are becoming just as much of a threat to economic prosperity as excess copyright, patent, and trademark protection. Both sets of laws waste resources combating the free flow of information. A firm that trains its workers may want to require them to stay for several years, to recoup its investment (28-29). But Lobel exposes the costs of such a strategy: human capital controls “restrict careers and connections that are born between people” (32). They can also hurt the development of a local talent pool that could, in all likelihood, redound to the benefit of the would-be controlling firm. Trapped in their firms by rigid Massachusetts’ custom and law, Route 128′s talent tended to stagnate. California refused to enforce noncompete clauses, encouraging its knowledge workers to find the firms best able to use their skills.

I have little doubt that Lobel’s book will be assigned in B-schools from Stanford to Wharton. She tells a consistently positive, upbeat story about management techniques to fraternize the incompatibles of personal fulfillment, profit maximization, and regional advantage. But for every normative term that animates her analysis (labor mobility, freedom of contract, innovation, creative or constructive destruction) there is a shadow term (precarity, exploitation, disruption, waste) that goes unexplored. I want to surface a few of these terms, and explore the degree to which they limit the scope or force of Lobel’s message. My worry is that managers will be receptive to the book not because they want talent to be free in the sense of “free speech,” but rather, in the sense of “free beer:” interchangeable cog(nitive unit)s desperately pitching themselves on MTurk and TaskRabbit.
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Trust is a Funny Thing

Last time, we discussed briefly that Erving Goffman’s social theory gives us an interactional perspective on privacy as a social relationship of trust and discretion. But trust, like love and life, is a funny thing. Trust is sometimes confused with naivete (Marshall 1976) or hallowed by optimism (Millman 2001), but trust, and its corollary, discretion, are what makes social interaction possible. I would like us to think about privacy this way: trust and discretion are what online best practices should encourage; trust and discretion, not an individual right, are what society should actively protect.

This is not a common denominator approach (Solove 2001). I am not arguing that everything we traditionally think of as “private” is trust and discretion. Nor is this a pure social network approach (Strahilevitz 2005). I am not arguing that we should protect privacy based on the suggestion from social science research that individuals tend to share or disclose otherwise private facts about themselves when they assume that the disclosed facts will not jump from one social network to another. Professors Solove and Strahilevitz are correct in their warnings and recommendations. But I believe that protecting disclosures where trust and discretion exist add value to both of their important contributions in the following ways:

First, intimate sharing among strangers is a fact we cannot — and the law should not — ignore. Professor Strahilevitz’s masterful work, A Social Network Theory of Privacy, does a good job surveying some of the social network research about sharing. But that research is in its relative infancy, as we all acknowledge. What is missing is a detailed understanding of the type of information shared with different groups of friends, particularly bare acquaintances and strangers. I hope to contribute to this understanding with the quantitative and empirical portions of my dissertation. The beta version of my surveys seem to suggest that highly intimate — determined on a subjective scale — information is often shared with veritable strangers. If sharing with strangers exists, it seems like tilting at windmills for the law to try to erect barriers that we know will fall, at best, or create perverse incentives for social sharers and private industry, at worse.

Second, trust can exist among strangers (Macy and Skvoretz 1998) and further research into the social determinants of that trust can give us the tools we need to determine when it is reasonable for judge or jury to protect the privacy interests of certain actors. Much of the social science literature about trust among strangers is in the game theory context (Macy and Skvoretz 1998, Buchan 2002, Croson 2002, Grabner-Kraeuter 2002, etc.). The quantitative studies in my dissertation have the potential to help us understand privacy among strangers outside the decision-making and consumer context, but inside the friend/social sharing context. It is, for example, too simple to say that people “sext” because they don’t believe in or understand or think about or care about privacy. Nor is it enough to say that we engage with strangers in the physical world and online because we think our social networks are separate. I would like to prove that trust and discretion exist among strangers online when sufficient information exists to act as social cues for trustworthiness, with the most important cue being embeddedness, or connections to other individuals for whom the trustworthiness decision has already been made. That decision may, at times, be related to the target’s position in your social network. But more likely, embeddedness is an overarching factor for which social network position is a proxy, or social network position is but one in a series of cues for embeddedness. In either case, the social science evidence does not require us to stop at social network position. We need to take another step.

Much of this work is decidedly in the work-in-progress stage. I have appreciated the comments so far and look forward to any comments, questions from the CoOp community.

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What Can Erving Goffman Teach Us About “Privacy”

I hope those celebrating Yom Kippur had a an easy fast.

We’ve already seen a few clues into the famous sociologist’s assumptions about privacy. As I discussed last week, Goffman seemed to fall into the trap of burdening his vision of “the private” with a negative moral judgment: we do things in secret because to do them in public would be embarrassing, discrediting, or worse. The private sphere was assumed to be the place where we literally let our hair down, literally let out our gut, and literally curse our our bosses. (And I am using the word “literally” correctly here, not according to the frustrating new definition, which will literally — ahem — make your head explode!).

In a series of short posts, I would like to flesh out what else we can learn from Goffman regarding the sociologists’ assumptions about privacy. It’s worth looking at Goffman, not only because of the seminal role he continues to play in sociological theory (if not methods) but because his theories are part of the culture and zeitgeist in which privacy scholars from the legal and philosophical worlds also live.

Goffman is famous, in part, for his back stage/front stage distinction in his discussion of micro- and macro-social interaction. In The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, Goffman (1959) analyzes social interaction through an extended theatrical conceit, comparing individuals to actors on a stage. He separates the front stage, where the performance of social interaction occurs (p. 107), and the back stage, where individuals can drop the façade of performance (p. 112). And he describes them as places, or “setting[s]” (Goffman, 1959, p. 107). The back stage is a place of hiding (Goffman, 1959, p. 113), so that devices like telephones, closets, and bathrooms “could be used ‘privately” (p. 112). It is also cut off from the front stage by a partition, passageway, or curtain (p. 112). The backstage, then, is defined by providing the performer with a private space—like a home, a green room, or a bathroom—to do certain necessary things away from an audience.

This sounds like a perfect tool for supporting spatial assumptions about privacy. But that would be taking Goffman too literally.

Perhaps we should resign ourselves to the idea that Goffman is a moralist who has a limited view of privacy as a place for deviance. My previous post certainly offered strong evidence of that. But, again, that might be taking Goffman too literally. More importantly, it misses what I feel is his greatest contribution to the study of privacy from a sociological standpoint.

Consider Goffman’s (1972) explanation for why staring and “intrusive looks” (p. 45) are, to use his words, “invasions of privacy.” Staring, Goffman (1963) writes, is not an ordinary or appropriate social interaction: it discriminates against the target and puts him “in a class apart” (p. 86). You stare at zoo monkeys, not people, so the invasion of privacy must either be a threat to the victim’s dignity as an end in himself, per Kant, or a breach of some implied duty that individuals owe one another. Goffman, true to his sociological roots, argues the latter, calling it a duty “civil inattention” (p. 85). This has groundbreaking implications for the study of privacy.

Civil inattention is a form of polite recognition of strangers, manifesting itself in nods of acknowledgment alongside a respectful modesty not to intrude where you do not belong. Staring at a physically injured or deformed bystander is the antithesis of civil inattention. In this example, the target might consider his injury “a personal matter which [he] would like to keep private” (Goffman, 1963, p. 86), but the fact that it is visible makes it publicly obvious. This obvious injury “differs from most other personal matters”—namely, those personal or private things that go on in the private sphere—because everyone has access to the injury regardless of how much the target would like to keep it secret (Goffman, 1963, p. 86). We are told not to stare precisely because the behavior’s abnormality disrupts the normal course of social interaction. It has been known to cause fear and flight (Ellsworth, 1972).

And so, as bystanders in general, we owe a duty to other individuals to treat them with discretion. Every interaction includes bystanders’ social obligation to protect social actors so that their interactions can continue. We have a “tactful tendency … to act in a protective way in order to help the performers save their own show,” Goffman (1959) writes, using his theatrical conceit to analogize to everyday social interaction (p. 229). We show extra “consideration” for novice performers, i.e., the young, who, because of the likelihood of mistakes, could damage ongoing social interaction by lapsing, forgetting how to behave, or brazenly engaging in asocial behavior, like nail-biting, nose-picking, or staring (Goffman, 1959, p. 323, 132). This tact is simply another word for discretion and respect: the knowledge that he is a beginner is appropriately set aside and ignored so that the performance can continue despite his mistakes. We also owe a measure of “tactful inattention” to neighboring conversations and nearby individuals to guarantee the “effective privacy” of others, a principle colloquially encapsulated by the phrase, “keep one’s nose out of other people’s” business (Goffman, 1959, p. 230). Privacy invasions, therefore, are not simple intrusions into personal territory or the disclosure of negative behaviors; rather, they are socially inappropriate behaviors that violate the trust and discretion we owe others.

Privacy-as-trust and discretion is also captured in Goffman’s early essay, The Nature of Deference and Demeanor (1967). Deference conveys respect “to a recipient or of this recipient, or of something of which this recipient is taken as a symbol, extension, or agent” (p. 56). In doing so, deference certainly imbues others with value and dignity; but that is merely a byproduct of the overarching purpose of creating a path for interaction. Rules of deference and respect constitute “rules of conduct which bind the actor and the recipient together” and “are the buildings of society” (Goffman, 1967, p. 90). In others words, they cue others as to our potential as interaction partners. This is the role of privacy. It creates a sense of confidence that allows people to share.

Teasing out this argument is how I would like to spend the remainder of my posts for the month. It highlights the central theoretical contribution of my dissertation.

And with that “Who-Shot-J.R.”-style cliffhanger, I leave you… for now.