The "snooper's charter" showed just what the Government is capable of

The proposed "Filter" programme would have been a vast step up in terms of the state's ability to spy on its citizens.

Surveillance technology is of two main types – equipment that keeps tabs on you in the physical world, and processes that track your activity “online” where computers keep a record of your communications and your financial activity.

The physical world is reasonably straightforward to understand. For instance, large numbers of CCTV cameras are installed in public and private spaces in the UK and recordings are kept of what they see. The cameras may be fixed, or a remote operator may be able to choose where they point and how much they zoom in. Newer systems can produce high quality material to enable precise identification of individuals and may also capture audio to accompany the pictures.

“Online” tracking can be equally revealing of people’s actions and movements. Mobile phones continuously interact with nearby cell towers so that incoming calls can be delivered. The phone companies are obliged to retain data about the location of a phone whenever a call is made or received, but if your phone is powered up then they have access to your location at all times and can provide this to law enforcement in real time if this is required.

The records that telephone companies (both fixed line and mobile) keep can be rapidly interrogated to provide lists of calls made from any particular phone, or to any particular phone. These lists will also include the duration of the call and the physical location of the endpoints. Call records can be identified either by the phone number or the phone's unique IMEI device identifier – permitting the tracing of phone activity even when the SIM has been changed.

When interaction is by email instead of by phone then the authorities can still get lists of who is communicating with whom. The email provider is obliged (if they are within the European Union) to keep records of who email was sent to or from, along with timestamp information and exactly how large each email was. Once again, law enforcement regularly requests lists of this email metadata, which can be indexed by sender or receiver.

So far, all of the surveillance and tracking systems have been considered in isolation. One of the provisions of the draft Communications Data Bill was the creation of a data correlation system dubbed a “Filter”. This system would combine enormous amounts of data from different systems, hoping to identify activity that would not have been apparent within a single system.

It is fundamentally inherent to this proposal that Filter data should be collected on everyone’s activity and that this data should be made available en masse from the private companies, the ISPs and telephone companies that provide services, to government systems for the correlation processing. The data won’t necessarily be physically combined on a single system (in fact it would be poor engineering to do this) but it will be logically combined. The original collectors of the data will not have any knowledge of what it is being used for, or possibly even how much data is being processed, so there will be no opportunity for whistle-blowing should excesses occur.

This integrated processing promises to make it much harder for criminals to communicate over a diversity of systems and thereby avoid being tracked – records of phone calls, emails and tweets could be easily combined. But the system’s capabilities go much further than that and the type of “big data” system envisaged will be capable of complex data mining tasks.

To take a fictional example from Charlie Brooker’s National Anthem, the source of a YouTube upload could be identified by the uniqueness of its size and timing; or, closer to real life, the source of an embarrassing leak could be identified by cross-correlating records to pick out exactly who in Whitehall sent out an email whose reception by a journalist triggered an immediate call to the relevant newspaper editor.

The trade-off for these new insights into criminal activity is that more information must be automatically collected about everyone (“just in case”), it must be stored for long periods, measured in years, and it must be handed over to the government operated filter for processing with the inherent assumption that the processing will be necessary, proportionate and authorised. There is tremendous scope for misusing such a system; a police state would relish the opportunity of correlating data on everyone out on the streets for a demonstration, everyone gathering in groups behind closed doors – or just collating a list of everyone who passed on an email containing a subversive joke. The complexity and secrecy of the proposed “Filter” system will make it extremely challenging to ensure that misuse, or just simple “mission creep”, does not occur.

This is an extract of a longer chapter on the technologies of surveillance in from Open Rights Group’s Digital Surveillance report which offers less intrusive alternatives to the Communications Data Bill, or "Snoopers’ Charter", which Nick Clegg blocked last week.

Photograph: Getty Images

Dr Richard Clayton is a security researcher at the University of Cambridge. He has acted as a specialist adviser for Select Committees of both the Lords and Commons in various inquiries into Internet security topics.

Getty
Show Hide image

The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era