The UK’s new Data Retention and Investigatory Powers (Drip) law, which went from announcement to enactment in eight days, is a complete abomination. Everything about the process – and here, process is critical – is an affront to democracy, to the rule of law, to the rights of British and global citizens, and even to the erstwhile ends of national security.



The completely unsatisfactory process involved the announcement last Thursday that the three main party leaders had been working in private towards supporting a bill that wasn’t yet public, followed by a three day fast-track process through the Commons and Lords, an overnight afterthought on human rights compliance, vague and uncoordinated attempts at amendment, and a government reshuffle and countless other matters to distract and detract.

What Drip represents is the absence of true political leadership and an utter failure to engage in an open, mature, public debate about the clash between privacy and security online.

The debate shouldn’t be between blanket, universal data retention and no retention at all, as it was misleadingly cast. It should be about retention that is necessary and proportionate.

Instead of engaging with what it termed an “emergency” – that, months ago, the European court of justice, the European parliament, the United Nations, communications providers, civil society organisations, and other governments clearly stated that blanket, indiscriminate data retention and mass surveillance infringe human rights and are not necessary and proportionate – parliament pushed that debate, those rights and, in the long-run, that data, underground.

As Martha Lane Fox said in her speech to the Lords, with uncharacteristic gloom: “The web I want seems to be disappearing,”she said. “Addressing the ECJ ruling and planning this bill far earlier could have been an extraordinary opportunity to instigate a wide-ranging and sophisticated review about the future, a review which carefully considered the implications of data collection, the role of surveillance, and the trade-off between privacy and security.

“Instead, we are being catapulted into legislation that builds on the badly understood and arguably dysfunctional Ripa legislation. This bill sets a precedent from which, even with reviews and a sunset clause, I believe it will be hard to row back. I sincerely hope that we do not regret it.”

The clash between privacy and security goes to the heart of the kind of society we want to live in. It has been shown that governments and corporations routinely collect, retain, and process the most intimate details of our connected personal lives.

What kinds of limits and safeguards exist on that data collection and data retention?

What limits and safeguards should exist?

By outright depriving us of that debate – and by doing so with such obvious propaganda (“emergencies”, paedophiles, terrorists, and crooks at every turn), deception (“status quo” and “clarifications” masking naked extension of interception powers and extraterritorial reach), and hypocrisy (the UK can no longer meaningfully criticise surveillance conducted under more repressive regimes) – Drip may be so bad that it is almost, perversely, good.

What possible good is there here? The problem with the privacy/security debate, like many of our great challenges, is that laziness favours the bad.

We all know that lazy needs to stare down its bloated, weak, and depraved reflection before it is stirred into action. And Drip is part of that ugly reflection. It might be just a glimmer; a fleeting mirage, but it is significant.

If government fails to lead, respect, and restrain, it is a call to action – an appeal to us all, to technology, to society.

To quote again Lane Fox: “Public trust is at an all-time low and I fully understand why. We ignore people’s anxiety at our peril.”

By making such a comprehensive mockery of the processes of public consultation and proper parliamentary scrutiny, Drip in all its disappointment should seed scepticism, anxiety, and restless distrust. It may be part of the nudge we need to compel the masses from their desk-chairs and to start reclaiming the web we want.

Julia Powles is a researcher in law and technology at the University of Cambridge. Find her on Twitter @juliapowles

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