Daniel Solove, the John Marshall Harlan Research Professor of Law at the George Washington University Law School, gets at the problem of scale in Nothing to Hide: The False Tradeoff Between Privacy and Security when he takes the issue to its absurd conclusion in discussing the limited protection of the Fourth Amendment, which also has limited applicability to information shared with others:
So don't use a credit card. Don't have cable. Don't use the Internet. Don't use the phone. Don't have a bank account. Don't go to the hospital. Don't have a job. Don't rent an apartment. Don't subscribe to any magazine or newspapers. Don't do anything that creates a record. In other words, go live like a hermit in a mountain or cabin.
The third problem is that the "just leave" response is predicated on the questionable idea that alternative social technologies will voluntarily protect their new users in areas their competitors did not. To the contrary, social media users might face similar obscurity risks regardless of the medium they choose. Indeed, if your current social network has no obligation to respect the obscurity of your information, what justifies believing other companies will continue to be trustworthy over time? And, what happens if your newly chosen service subsequently raises red flags?
In the aggregate, if we acquiesce to the idea that structural protections that exist at the time of disclosure are meaningless, the ability to choose social technologies will become meaningless because no offered structural protections will be reliable. Sticking with the opt-out procedure turns digital life into a paranoid game of whack-a-mole where the goal is to stay ahead of the crushing mallet. Unfortunately, this path of perilously transferring risk from one medium to another is the direction we're headed if social media users can't make reasonable decisions based on the current context of obscurity, but instead are asked to assume all online social interaction can or will eventually lose its obscurity protection.
The fourth problem with the "leave if you're unhappy" ethos is that it is overly individualistic. If a critical mass participates in the "Opt-Out Revolution," what would happen to the struggling, the lonely, the curious, the caring, and the collaborative if the social web went dark? What would a social media blackout mean for youth -- and, indeed, the rest of us -- whose identity and beliefs are shaped by experimenting online? And what of those who feel compelled to stay, due to valuable networks complied and curated over time?
We aren't identifying these problems to dissuade users from exercising their right to abandon social technologies they feel uncomfortable with. A robust expression of consumer preferences could lead to improvements for users wishing to share information privately. Our point is that there is a middle ground between reclusion and widespread publicity, and the reduction of user options to quitting or coping, which are both problematic, need not be inevitable, especially when we can continue exploring ways to alleviate the user burden of retreat and the societal cost of a dark social web.
Ultimately, it is easy to presume that "even if you unfriend everybody on Facebook, and you never join Twitter, and you don't have a LinkedIn profile or an About.me page or much else in the way of online presence, you're still going to end up being mapped and charted and slotted in to your rightful place in the global social network that is life." But so long it remains possible to create obscurity through privacy enhancing technology, effective regulation, contextually appropriate privacy settings, circumspect behavior, and a clear understanding of how our data can be accessed and processed, that fatalism isn't justified. If we lose reliable obscurity protections, individuals and society as a whole will bear the cost. Forget Lolcats. We'll miss opportunities for self-expression, personal growth, learning, support, and civic exchange.