Technology's Role in Normalizing Surveillance of Our Loved Ones
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Chapter 1: The Culture of Monitoring
Recently, I tuned into a podcast featuring two friends in their thirties. During the episode, one friend playfully scolded the other for not reaching out frequently enough on “Find My Friends,” an iPhone application that enables users to track the locations of their contacts. The other friend defended herself, saying that whenever she checked the app, the first friend was either at home or at the gym. Despite the laughter, the first friend expressed feeling slighted. This conversation highlighted a troubling notion: the more you track someone, the more it seems to indicate how much you care for them.
Not long ago, I discussed a relationship breakdown with another friend in his late twenties. One of the reasons for the split was that his ex-girlfriend often questioned him without cause. Since their relationship was long-distance, she insisted on knowing his exact whereabouts whenever he was out with friends. To maintain peace, he would activate his phone's tracking feature, only to be bombarded with questions about his activities at various venues.
“Why did you agree to that?” I inquired, and then answered my own question. “If you decline the tracking, she might think you're hiding something?” He nodded, looking resigned.
In today’s world, monitoring each other's movements has become commonplace. While I understand the appeal of the “Find My Friends” app for safety reasons—like allowing parents to find a teen who hasn't checked in or helping women stay safe on dates—the everyday expectation to track someone's location feels unsettling. This capability can easily morph into a tool for manipulation or control.
While it is true that everyone has the right to refuse tracking, navigating that conversation can be challenging, especially when the person requesting it is controlling, like my friend’s ex. Trust is essential in any relationship, but it is also vital to maintain personal freedom and autonomy.
I often find myself captivated by films from the 1980s, such as The Way, Way Back and Super 8. These films evoke nostalgia not just for their narratives but for the portrayal of kids enjoying an unmonitored existence. In both stories, youngsters freely roam their neighborhoods on bicycles while their parents have only a vague idea of their whereabouts.
I resonate with Jill Francis' tribute to her first car and the independence it offered during high school. As she reflects: “My parents had no clue about my activities once I left, and every moment felt like my own in a way it never would in 2022.”
Chapter 2: The Changing Dynamics of Parental Communication
Today's youth have always lived in a world where they can reach their parents and vice versa at any hour. This constant connectivity shapes their behaviors. For instance, when I go out with a friend who has a teenager at home, that child will text at least once an hour. If they don’t, my friend becomes anxious.
This regularity in checking in has consequences, especially regarding decision-making skills. I’ve witnessed conversations where a teen asks, “Can I eat the cold cuts in the fridge?” to which the parent replies, “No, they’re for tomorrow’s lunch.” Moments later, the teen follows up, “What can I have for dinner then?” And the dialogue continues in this manner.
This observation isn't to criticize parents, as they are doing a commendable job. However, growing up with cell phones seems to foster a more dependent dynamic among teens than existed in previous generations. They have never experienced a scenario where they couldn't immediately consult their parents about decisions.
While this connectivity can bring families closer, I worry that teens raised in such an environment may grow into adults who excessively monitor their partners or feel discontented if their friends do not check in enough.
We show concern for our loved ones through phrases like “Be careful” and “Text me when you get home,” which translate to “I care about you.” The ability to instantly check on someone in times of worry is undoubtedly valuable.
Yet, in our hyper-connected society, many appear to be losing the ability to function independently. How do we embrace the present if we are perpetually accountable? How do we cultivate decision-making skills if there’s always someone to consult? And how is trust built when opportunities for independence are scarce?
I do not have clear answers to these questions as society seems to be gravitating toward greater co-dependency. Perhaps I’ll have to continue seeking solace in films that remind me of a time when autonomy was the norm.