The American View: AI Surveillance in Schools – Safety Net or Privacy Nightmare?

For most workers, the unpleasant truth of omnipresent monitoring is infuriating. No matter how many times you explain the law (or policy or whatever), many workers just won’t accept it. I made an enemy for life when I was ordered by my wing commander to seize and search a unit PC for evidence of a memorandum that a dirtbag criminal had claimed had been written by the vice wing commander that would let said dirtbag criminal get off scot-free. It didn’t matter that we in IT were confident that the “exonerating memo” was a forgery; we were directed to investigate and report our findings as ordered. The impacted colonel became an implacable enemy of both me personally and the IT squadron in general for the rest of his time in uniform. Emotion usually trumps regulations when the chips are down.

No wonder then that organisations are hesitant to use the power and access that they already have to actively search for indicators of potentially disruptive or dangerous behaviour. So long as your outfit never experiences a preventable major felony (e.g., murder, rape, etc.) then doing nothing can feel like the safer of two bad options. Better to close your eyes and ears to the warning signs and hope for the best than risk making an embarrassing mistake. That’s pretty normal for corpo folk; risk aversion is a natural defensive response to chaotic environments like the modern corporation. Moreover, the higher you rise in power and authority, the more difficult it becomes to understand what’s going on under you even as your responsibility for what happens on your watch exceeds your ability to influence your domain. 

Personally, I lean the other way. I’d rather accept the risk of making a mistake (and the cost of making it right) if my organisation’s surveillance efforts can save a life or interdict a trauma. Obviously, I’m biased; everyone is. I believe that a human life is more precious than a bank account balance. That position seems ethically grounded to me. Still, I realize that everyone must decide for themselves how to reconcile their values with their organisation’s policies and priorities.  

So, yeah. I empathize with the parents, students, and school staff interviewed in Bryan and Lurye’s article. I’d argue that many of the examples cited in their piece could – should, really – have been handled better by thorough planning, consistent execution, redundant accountability controls, and clear instructions. This is what a mature and responsible security department would insist on before initiating an internal surveillance program.

Still, Bryan and Lurye were talking about school systems … consistently under-resourced organisations where the technology barely works on most days. It’s going to be darned challenging for a school district that can only afford the bare minimum of IT administrators to run something as complicated as a formal internal surveillance program. Hell, I’ve yet to meet a dedicated cybersecurity employee for a school district; usually that’s an additional duty thrust on IT support if it’s performed at all. 

Businesses and government agencies, on the other hand, don’t have that excuse. Most outfits have the staff and the resources they need to run a comprehensive and accountable surveillance program. What they usually lack, I believe, is the moral courage to accept the risk and do what’s necessary to protect their people. Their fear of exposure and financial loss carries more emotional weight than the possibility of a violent crime occurring on their watch sometime in the undefined future. 

[1] If you’ve ever clicked through a boilerplate login warning that declares “Use of this system constitutes consent to monitoring,” US v Larson is the case that settled the “nuh uh!” argument once and for all … at least in the U.S. military. Your milage may vary. Discuss your options with your company lawyers … once they stop screaming.