Great Expectations

Does anyone expect not to be photographed when they enter a bank, a courthouse, run a red light, speed in Europe, park their car at Wal-mart? Security cameras are everywhere these days. If and when I ever invest in private property for the family to live on, I’ll probably put in motion detectors hooked to flood lights and a camera. Why not, it’s cheep. Those devices, along with the National Rifle Association bumper stickers firmly affixed to the back of my autos and one of those catchy “This house protected by Smith & Wesson” signs in the front yard, ought to be enough to deter most of the criminal element.

Does anyone who uses a cell or wireless phone expect not to be overheard by anyone within a ¼ mile using a common frequency scanner? I don’t have a cell phone, but if I did I wouldn’t go about discussing private things over that type of line. I sure wouldn’t be discussing criminal activities over one. Technology has made it such that I have no expectation that what I say over what essentially is a radio transmitter will not be overheard by some unintended recipient. It’s sort of like the old days when people shared party lines or the local operator connected calls. One never knew if someone was listening in so one didn’t discuss sensitive things on the phone.

Does anyone expect privacy on the Internet? Isn’t it odd that after checking out the Lego site for Christmas, I get 50 e-mails from Lego telling me about sales on particular items that I had visited? Isn’t it odd that after visiting a real estate site I get 50 e-mails from mortgage providers? I know that companies track who visits their sites and they share that information. I conduct my Internet business accordingly.

There is no right to privacy expressed in the Constitution. In public or in our homes aside from the 4th Amendment the founding fathers were bright enough to not allow terrorists to plot unfettered in their homes. I can be secure from unreasonable search and seizure if I bother to follow the law. But I have no right to turn my basement into a biolab for cooking meth or constructing a dirty bomb. If the feds notice the high traffic of the usual dopes associated with a meth operation, I can expect them to crashing in on me. If an FBI van drives by with a Geiger counter that goes off like baby sister’s rattle, I can expect a knock at my door. Only an idiot would have an expectation of privacy to run a meth lab or construct a dirty bomb.