I have been giving my attention to the alarm which seems to have developed over the issue of ‘the surveillance society’, and, in particular, to the anxiety over the plan to introduce National Identity Cards. Before addressing the objections to the scheme, let me, in concise terms, make the case for it. I assert that the greater number of offences would not be committed, if the delinquents did not hope to remain unknown. To punish a man in almost any way whatever, you must know who he is: you must know not only that such and such an offence has been committed, but that it was such an one that committed it. Every thing which encreases the facility of recognizing and finding individuals adds to general security. The introduction of Identity Cards, and the establishment of the custom of carrying them and producing them at need, would, it seems overwhelmingly likely, encrease the facility of recognizing and finding individuals. ‘Who are you, with whom I have to deal?’ would be a question no longer liable to evasion.

I believed throughout my adult life that security against offenders would be immeasurably enhanced if every one were indelibly, and visibly, marked with their forename and surname. The site of the mark would, to avoid defeating the object, have to be visible to other people from a safe distance: I thought the forehead would provide the most obvious site. To facilitate identification I supposed that each individual should have an unique name, to obviate the possibility of misidentification. Now, I understand that advances in science mean that ID cards can be encoded with information distinguishing individuals from one another, and establishing that the holder of the card is indeed the person whose identity it declares—DNA! wondrous gift from Nature, to legislators no less than forensic scientists, physicians and biologists!

I envisaged three objections to my scheme, all of which, it seems, feature in the opposition to ID cards. Of these, the first, which I hoped might have abated by now, was sufficient to deter me from publishing the scheme, for fear of opprobrium and ridicule; the second was then, and remains now, absurd; the third is deserving of a more serious consideration. Let me address the first objection: probable public revulsion against the notion of Identity Marks. Unfortunately, for this as well as for so many other salutary and impressive measures, we were, and apparently remain, a cold, misgiving and shamed-faced people, subdued by the terror of scoffing ignorance. We prefer the most inveterate mischiefs to the most simple and efficient, if unaccustomed, remedies: we start with equal horror—or what is worse, we titter with equally obstinate and silly ridicule—at the most salutary and the most destructive measure, if it bears but a shade of novelty on the face of it. I did hope that the nobility, and even the Royal family, might assist in associating the idea of identity marks with honour and power by imprinting their titles upon their foreheads. Sadly they failed to show any enthusiasm. However, I understand that the current heir to the throne is known for ground-breaking opinions, and wonder whether the campaign to popularize the idea might not commence with ‘Charles Philip Arthur George Windsor’, which would indeed require a noble forehead of greater than the average width.

The second objection concerns the uneasiness it might give people, however innocent, to have their names exposed to all the world, and to be known as they walked in the streets and in every company into which they went. To an objection so vague and extensive in its nature there is no knowing what to answer in the compass of a few sentences: that a certain quantity of inconvenience would arise from this source it is impossible to deny: all I can say is that I look upon it as being much less than equivalent to the advantage. Simply look at the number of crimes prevented in exchange for a transient uneasiness. It will be admitted, I think, as a general rule and upon an average taken of human feelings in different situations, that shame and fear of publicity are the accompaniments of vice. The demand for secrecy is prima facie evidence of a desire to inflict harm on others: the more strictly we are watched, the better we behave.

The final objection is built upon more steady ground: the institution, it might be said, would be favourable to tyranny, by throwing too much power into the hands of government, and rendering the political sanction too independent of the moral. In my own lifetime, events across the Channel gave me pause, since in the course of the French Revolution, many persons owed their safety to a disguise, which such a mark would have rendered unavailing. However, much of the popular debate seems to advance fear of a mighty state which disposes of secret knowledge to the detriment of its citizens. I yield to no man in awareness of the dangers presented to the citizens by an unaccountable sovereign, which possesses not merely the motive (by virtue of being made up of human beings) but the means (by being the embodiment of public coercive power) to invade the security of its citizens. However, the solution to the problem lies not in the privation and sequester of knowledge, but in its broadcast. To borrow modern parlance, freedom of information is the best guarantor of free government. The sovereign requires to be watched, even more than the rest of us, and the widest possible publication of its actions is an essential condition for political liberty. The other essential condition, of course, is democracy, operated by an informed and vigilant public.

The institution of identity marks, or of ID cards, might indeed render plots and secret conspiracies somewhat more difficult to form: but it is not by plots and conspiracies that efficacy is given to the constitutional claims of a large body of the people. The liberties of a country, real or pretended, are maintained not by the intrigues of a few, but by the corroboration of the many: not in holes and corners, but in the face of day: not by men whose shame it is, but by men whose glory it is, to be known: by the general concurrence of persons of all ranks, magistrates and gentlemen as well as yeomen. If the public were covered from head to foot with tattoos detailing their personal information, they would not be the less able to print opposition pamphlets or to attend at public meetings. But enough of declamation: ID cards seem to me a poor substitute for Identity Marks, posing difficulties from which the latter are free. Study the technology, certainly—be sure of defences against fraud, absolutely—but do not object on ground of personal uneasiness or for fear of ‘Big Brother’, for the solutions to these issues lie in your own hands.

I trust that few of you will allow yourselves to be distracted from your admirable labours by the current season of useless holy-days and waste of disposable waking-time, and I look forward to sharing further thoughts with you in the new calendar year.

Omnia in propatulo!

Your ever laborious and devoted Servant

J.B.