[DAC] Coming to your town
Lucilda Cooper
lucilda at earthlink.net
Mon May 26 03:28:53 EDT 2008
Very interesting Uncle Sam turned Big Brother action on the horizon -
coming soon to your neighborhood.
Love,
Lucilda
www.Lucilda.com
Begin forwarded message:
> From: sukhdevsingh puri <iamsspuri at hotmail.com>
>
> Subject: China's All-Seeing Eye
>
>
>
>
> Printer Friendly
> URL: http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/20797485/
> chinas_allseeing_eye
> Rollingstone.com
> Back to China's All-Seeing Eye
> China's All-Seeing Eye
>
> With the help of U.S. defense contractors, China is building the
> prototype for a high-tech police state. It is ready for export.
>
> NAOMI KLEIN
> Posted May 29, 2008 3:24 PM
> Advertisement
>
> • Photo Gallery: A View of (and From) the Security Cameras Watching
> Over China as Part of the Golden Shield
> • Naomi Klein Speaks About Her Experiences Reporting "China's All-
> Seeing Eye"
> • Read a Q&A With Author Naomi Klein About Her Book The Shock
> DoctrineThirty years ago, the city of Shenzhen didn't exist. Back
> in those days, it was a string of small fishing villages and
> collectively run rice paddies, a place of rutted dirt roads and
> traditional temples. That was before the Communist Party chose it —
> thanks to its location close to Hong Kong's port — to be China's
> first "special economic zone," one of only four areas where
> capitalism would be permitted on a trial basis. The theory behind
> the experiment was that the "real" China would keep its socialist
> soul intact while profiting from the private-sector jobs and
> industrial development created in Shenzhen. The result was a city
> of pure commerce, undiluted by history or rooted culture — the
> crack cocaine of capitalism. It was a force so addictive to
> investors that the Shenzhen experiment quickly expanded, swallowing
> not just the surrounding Pearl River Delta, which now houses
> roughly 100,000 factories, but much of the rest of the country as
> well. Today, Shenzhen is a city of 12.4 million people, and there
> is a good chance that at least half of everything you own was made
> here: iPods, laptops, sneakers, flatscreen TVs, cellphones, jeans,
> maybe your desk chair, possibly your car and almost certainly your
> printer. Hundreds of luxury condominiums tower over the city; many
> are more than 40 stories high, topped with three-story penthouses.
> Newer neighborhoods like Keji Yuan are packed with ostentatiously
> modern corporate campuses and decadent shopping malls. Rem
> Koolhaas, Prada's favorite architect, is building a stock exchange
> in Shenzhen that looks like it floats — a design intended, he says,
> to "suggest and illustrate the process of the market." A still-
> under-construction superlight subway will soon connect it all at
> high speed; every car has multiple TV screens broadcasting over a
> Wi-Fi network. At night, the entire city lights up like a pimped-
> out Hummer, with each five-star hotel and office tower competing
> over who can put on the best light show.
> Many of the big American players have set up shop in Shenzhen, but
> they look singularly unimpressive next to their Chinese
> competitors. The research complex for China's telecom giant Huawei,
> for instance, is so large that it has its own highway exit, while
> its workers ride home on their own bus line. Pressed up against
> Shenzhen's disco shopping centers, Wal-Mart superstores — of which
> there are nine in the city — look like dreary corner stores. (China
> almost seems to be mocking us: "You call that a superstore?")
> McDonald's and KFC appear every few blocks, but they seem almost
> retro next to the Real Kung Fu fast-food chain, whose mascot is a
> stylized Bruce Lee.
> American commentators like CNN's Jack Cafferty dismiss the Chinese
> as "the same bunch of goons and thugs they've been for the last 50
> years." But nobody told the people of Shenzhen, who are busily
> putting on a 24-hour-a-day show called "America" — a pirated
> version of the original, only with flashier design, higher profits
> and less complaining. This has not happened by accident. China
> today, epitomized by Shenzhen's transition from mud to megacity in
> 30 years, represents a new way to organize society. Sometimes
> called "market Stalinism," it is a potent hybrid of the most
> powerful political tools of authoritarian communism — central
> planning, merciless repression, constant surveillance — harnessed
> to advance the goals of global capitalism.
> Now, as China prepares to showcase its economic advances during the
> upcoming Olympics in Beijing, Shenzhen is once again serving as a
> laboratory, a testing ground for the next phase of this vast social
> experiment. Over the past two years, some 200,000 surveillance
> cameras have been installed throughout the city. Many are in public
> spaces, disguised as lampposts. The closed-circuit TV cameras will
> soon be connected to a single, nationwide network, an all-seeing
> system that will be capable of tracking and identifying anyone who
> comes within its range — a project driven in part by U.S.
> technology and investment. Over the next three years, Chinese
> security executives predict they will install as many as 2 million
> CCTVs in Shenzhen, which would make it the most watched city in the
> world. (Security-crazy London boasts only half a million
> surveillance cameras.) The security cameras are just one part of a
> much broader high-tech surveillance and censorship program known in
> China as "Golden Shield." The end goal is to use the latest people-
> tracking technology — thoughtfully supplied by American giants like
> IBM, Honeywell and General Electric — to create an airtight
> consumer cocoon: a place where Visa cards, Adidas sneakers, China
> Mobile cellphones, McDonald's Happy Meals, Tsingtao beer and UPS
> delivery (to name just a few of the official sponsors of the
> Beijing Olympics) can be enjoyed under the unblinking eye of the
> state, without the threat of democracy breaking out. With political
> unrest on the rise across China, the government hopes to use the
> surveillance shield to identify and counteract dissent before it
> explodes into a mass movement like the one that grabbed the world's
> attention at Tiananmen Square.
> Remember how we've always been told that free markets and free
> people go hand in hand? That was a lie. It turns out that the most
> efficient delivery system for capitalism is actually a communist-
> style police state, fortressed with American "homeland security"
> technologies, pumped up with "war on terror" rhetoric. And the
> global corporations currently earning superprofits from this social
> experiment are unlikely to be content if the lucrative new market
> remains confined to cities such as Shenzhen. Like everything else
> assembled in China with American parts, Police State 2.0 is ready
> for export to a neighborhood near you.
> Zhang Yi points to an empty bracket on the dashboard of his black
> Honda. "It used to hold my GPS, but I leave it at home now," he
> says. "It's the crime — they are too easy to steal." He quickly
> adds, "Since the surveillance cameras came in, we have seen a very
> dramatic decrease in crime in Shenzhen."
> After driving for an hour past hundreds of factory gates and
> industrial parks, we pull up to a salmon-color building that Zhang
> partly owns. This is the headquarters of FSAN: CCTV System. Zhang,
> a prototypical Shenzhen yuppie in a royal-blue button-down shirt
> and black-rimmed glasses, apologizes for the mess. Inside, every
> inch of space is lined with cardboard boxes filled with electronics
> parts and finished products.
> Zhang opened the factory two and a half years ago, and his
> investment has already paid off tenfold. That kind of growth isn't
> unusual in the field he has chosen: Zhang's factory makes digital
> surveillance cameras, turning out 400,000 a year. Half of the
> cameras are shipped overseas, destined to peer from building ledges
> in London, Manhattan and Dubai as part of the global boom in
> "homeland security." The other half stays in China, many right here
> in Shenzhen and in neighboring Guangzhou, another megacity of 12
> million people. China's market for surveillance cameras enjoyed
> revenues of $4.1 billion last year, a jump of 24 percent from 2006.
> Zhang escorts me to the assembly line, where rows of young workers,
> most of them women, are bent over semiconductors, circuit boards,
> tiny cables and bulbs. At the end of each line is "quality
> control," which consists of plugging the camera into a monitor and
> making sure that it records. We enter a showroom where Zhang and
> his colleagues meet with clients. The walls are lined with dozens
> of camera models: domes of all sizes, specializing in day and
> night, wet and dry, camouflaged to look like lights, camouflaged to
> look like smoke detectors, explosion-proof, the size of a soccer
> ball, the size of a ring box.
> The workers at FSAN don't just make surveillance cameras; they are
> constantly watched by them. While they work, the silent eyes of
> rotating lenses capture their every move. When they leave work and
> board buses, they are filmed again. When they walk to their
> dormitories, the streets are lined with what look like newly
> installed streetlamps, their white poles curving toward the
> sidewalk with black domes at the ends. Inside the domes are high-
> resolution cameras, the same kind the workers produce at FSAN. Some
> blocks have three or four, one every few yards. One Shenzhen-based
> company, China Security & Surveillance Technology, has developed
> software to enable the cameras to alert police when an unusual
> number of people begin to gather at any given location.
> In 2006, the Chinese government mandated that all Internet cafes
> (as well as restaurants and other "entertainment" venues) install
> video cameras with direct feeds to their local police stations.
> Part of a wider surveillance project known as "Safe Cities," the
> effort now encompasses 660 municipalities in China. It is the most
> ambitious new government program in the Pearl River Delta, and
> supplying it is one of the fastest-growing new markets in Shenzhen.
> But the cameras that Zhang manufactures are only part of the
> massive experiment in population control that is under way here.
> "The big picture," Zhang tells me in his office at the factory, "is
> integration." That means linking cameras with other forms of
> surveillance: the Internet, phones, facial-recognition software and
> GPS monitoring.
> This is how this Golden Shield will work: Chinese citizens will be
> watched around the clock through networked CCTV cameras and remote
> monitoring of computers. They will be listened to on their phone
> calls, monitored by digital voice-recognition technologies. Their
> Internet access will be aggressively limited through the country's
> notorious system of online controls known as the "Great Firewall."
> Their movements will be tracked through national ID cards with
> scannable computer chips and photos that are instantly uploaded to
> police databases and linked to their holder's personal data. This
> is the most important element of all: linking all these tools
> together in a massive, searchable database of names, photos,
> residency information, work history and biometric data. When Golden
> Shield is finished, there will be a photo in those databases for
> every person in China: 1.3 billion faces.
> Shenzhen is the place where the shield has received its most
> extensive fortifications — the place where all the spy toys are
> being hooked together and tested to see what they can do. "The
> central government eventually wants to have city-by-city
> surveillance, so they could just sit and monitor one city and its
> surveillance system as a whole," Zhang says. "It's all part of that
> bigger project. Once the tests are done and it's proven, they will
> be spreading from the big province to the cities, even to the rural
> farmland."
> In fact, the rollout of the high-tech shield is already well under
> way.
> When the Tibetan capital of Lhasa was set alight in March, the
> world caught a glimpse of the rage that lies just under the surface
> in many parts of China. And though the Lhasa riots stood out for
> their ethnic focus and their intensity, protests across China are
> often shockingly militant. In July 2006, workers at a factory near
> Shenzhen expressed their displeasure over paltry pay by overturning
> cars, smashing computers and opening fire hydrants. In March of
> last year, when bus fares went up in the rural town of Zhushan,
> 20,000 people took to the streets and five police vehicles were
> torched. Indeed, China has seen levels of political unrest in
> recent years unknown since 1989, the year student protests were
> crushed with tanks in Tiananmen Square. In 2005, by the
> government's own measure, there were at least 87,000 "mass
> incidents" — governmentspeak for large-scale protests or riots.
> This increased unrest — a process aided by access to cellphones and
> the Internet — represents more than a security problem for the
> leaders in Beijing. It threatens their whole model of command-and-
> control capitalism. China's rapid economic growth has relied on the
> ability of its rulers to raze villages and move mountains to make
> way for the latest factory towns and shopping malls. If the people
> living on those mountains use blogs and text messaging to launch a
> mountain-people's-rights uprising with each new project, and if
> they link up with similar uprisings in other parts of the country,
> China's dizzying expansion could grind to a halt.
> At the same time, the success of China's ravenous development
> creates its own challenges. Every rural village that is
> successfully razed to make way for a new project creates more
> displaced people who join the ranks of the roughly 130 million
> migrants roaming the country looking for work. By 2025, it is
> projected that this "floating" population will swell to more than
> 350 million. Many will end up in cities like Shenzhen, which is
> already home to 7 million migrant laborers.
> But while China's cities need these displaced laborers to work in
> factories and on construction sites, they are unwilling to offer
> them the same benefits as permanent residents: highly subsidized
> education and health care, as well as other public services. While
> migrants can live for decades in big cities like Shenzhen and
> Guangzhou, their residency remains fixed to the rural community
> where they were born, a fact encoded on their national ID cards. As
> one young migrant in Guangzhou put it to me, "The local people want
> to make money from migrant workers, but they don't want to give
> them rights. But why are the local people so rich? Because of the
> migrant workers!"
> With its militant protests and mobile population, China confronts a
> fundamental challenge. How can it maintain a system based on two
> dramatically unequal categories of people: the winners, who get the
> condos and cars, and the losers, who do the heavy labor and are
> denied those benefits? More urgently, how can it do this when
> information technology threatens to link the losers together into a
> movement so large it could easily overwhelm the country's elites?
> The answer is Golden Shield. When Tibet erupted in protests
> recently, the surveillance system was thrown into its first live
> test, with every supposedly liberating tool of the Information Age
> — cellphones, satellite television, the Internet — transformed into
> a method of repression and control. As soon as the protests
> gathered steam, China reinforced its Great Firewall, blocking its
> citizens from accessing dozens of foreign news outlets. In some
> parts of Tibet, Internet access was shut down altogether. Many
> people trying to phone friends and family found that their calls
> were blocked, and cellphones in Lhasa were blitzed with text
> messages from the police: "Severely battle any creation or any
> spreading of rumors that would upset or frighten people or cause
> social disorder or illegal criminal behavior that could damage
> social stability."
> During the first week of protests, foreign journalists who tried to
> get into Tibet were systematically turned back. But that didn't
> mean that there were no cameras inside the besieged areas. Since
> early last year, activists in Lhasa have been reporting on the
> proliferation of black-domed cameras that look like streetlights —
> just like the ones I saw coming off the assembly line in Shenzhen.
> Tibetan monks complain that cameras — activated by motion sensors —
> have invaded their monasteries and prayer rooms.
> During the Lhasa riots, police on the scene augmented the footage
> from the CCTVs with their own video cameras, choosing to film —
> rather than stop — the violence, which left 19 dead. The police
> then quickly cut together the surveillance shots that made the
> Tibetans look most vicious — beating Chinese bystanders, torching
> shops, ripping metal sheeting off banks — and created a kind of
> copumentary: Tibetans Gone Wild. These weren't the celestial beings
> in flowing robes the Beastie Boys and Richard Gere had told us
> about. They were angry young men, wielding sticks and long knives.
> They looked ugly, brutal, tribal. On Chinese state TV, this footage
> played around the clock.
> The police also used the surveillance footage to extract mug shots
> of the demonstrators and rioters. Photos of the 21 "most wanted"
> Tibetans, many taken from that distinctive "streetlamp" view of the
> domed cameras, were immediately circulated to all of China's major
> news portals, which obediently posted them to help out with the
> manhunt. The Internet became the most powerful police tool. Within
> days, several of the men on the posters were in custody, along with
> hundreds of others.
> The flare-up in Tibet, weeks before the Olympic torch began its
> global journey, has been described repeatedly in the international
> press as a "nightmare" for Beijing. Several foreign leaders have
> pledged to boycott the opening ceremonies of the games, the press
> has hosted an orgy of China-bashing, and the torch became a magnet
> for protesters, with anti-China banners dropped from the Eiffel
> Tower and the Golden Gate Bridge. But inside China, the Tibet
> debacle may actually have been a boon to the party, strengthening
> its grip on power. Despite its citizens having unprecedented access
> to information technology (there are as many Internet users in
> China as there are in the U.S.), the party demonstrated that it
> could still control what they hear and see. And what they saw on
> their TVs and computer screens were violent Tibetans, out to kill
> their Chinese neighbors, while police showed admirable restraint.
> Tibetan solidarity groups say 140 people were killed in the
> crackdown that followed the protests, but without pictures taken by
> journalists, it is as if those subsequent deaths didn't happen.
> Chinese viewers also saw a world unsympathetic to the Chinese
> victims of Tibetan violence, so hostile to their country that it
> used a national tragedy to try to rob them of their hard-won
> Olympic glory. These nationalist sentiments freed up Beijing to go
> on a full-fledged witch hunt. In the name of fighting a war on
> terror, security forces rounded up thousands of Tibetan activists
> and supporters. The end result is that when the games begin, much
> of the Tibetan movement will be safely behind bars — along with
> scores of Chinese journalists, bloggers and human-rights defenders
> who have also been trapped in the government's high-tech web.
> Police State 2.0 might not look good from the outside, but on the
> inside, it appears to have passed its first major test.
> In Guangzhou, an hour and a half by train from Shenzhen, Yao
> Ruoguang is preparing for a major test of his own. "It's called the
> 10-million-faces test," he tells me.
> Yao is managing director of Pixel Solutions, a Chinese company that
> specializes in producing the new high-tech national ID cards, as
> well as selling facial-recognition software to businesses and
> government agencies. The test, the first phase of which is only
> weeks away, is being staged by the Ministry of Public Security in
> Beijing. The idea is to measure the effectiveness of face-
> recognition software in identifying police suspects. Participants
> will be given a series of photos, taken in a variety of situations.
> Their task will be to match the images to other photos of the same
> people in the government's massive database. Several biometrics
> companies, including Yao's, have been invited to compete. "We have
> to be able to match a face in a 10 million database in one second,"
> Yao tells me. "We are preparing for that now."
> The companies that score well will be first in line for lucrative
> government contracts to integrate face-recognition software into
> Golden Shield, using it to check for ID fraud and to discover the
> identities of suspects caught on surveillance cameras. Yao says the
> technology is almost there: "It will happen next year."
> When I meet Yao at his corporate headquarters, he is feeling
> confident about how his company will perform in the test. His
> secret weapon is that he will be using facial-recognition software
> purchased from L-1 Identity Solutions, a major U.S. defense
> contractor that produces passports and biometric security systems
> for the U.S. government.
> To show how well it works, Yao demonstrates on himself. Using a
> camera attached to his laptop, he snaps a picture of his own face,
> round and boyish for its 54 years. Then he uploads it onto the
> company's proprietary Website, built with L-1 software. With the
> cursor, he marks his own eyes with two green plus signs, helping
> the system to measure the distance between his features, a
> distinctive aspect of our faces that does not change with disguises
> or even surgery. The first step is to "capture the image," Yao
> explains. Next is "finding the face."
> He presses APPLY, telling the program to match the new face with
> photos of the same person in the company's database of 600,000
> faces. Instantly, multiple photos of Yao appear, including one
> taken 19 years earlier — proof that the technology can "find a
> face" even when the face has changed significantly with time. "
> It took 1.1 milliseconds!" Yao exclaims. "Yeah, that's me!"
> In nearby cubicles, teams of Yao's programmers and engineers take
> each other's pictures, mark their eyes with green plus signs and
> test the speed of their search engines. "Everyone is preparing for
> the test," Yao explains. "If we pass, if we come out number one, we
> are guaranteed a market in China."
> Every couple of minutes Yao's phone beeps. Sometimes it's a work
> message, but most of the time it's a text from his credit-card
> company, informing him that his daughter, who lives in Australia,
> has just made another charge. "Every time the text message comes, I
> know my daughter is spending money!" He shrugs: "She likes designers."
> Like many other security executives I interviewed in China, Yao
> denies that a primary use of the technology he is selling is to
> hunt down political activists. "Ninety-five percent," he insists,
> "is just for regular safety." He has, he admits, been visited by
> government spies, whom he describes as "the internal-security
> people." They came with grainy pictures, shot from far away or
> through keyhole cameras, of "some protesters, some dissidents."
> They wanted to know if Yao's facial-recognition software could help
> identify the people in the photos. Yao was sorry to disappoint
> them. "Honestly, the technology so far still can't meet their
> needs," he says. "The photos that they show us were just too
> blurry." That is rapidly changing, of course, thanks to the spread
> of high-resolution CCTVs. Yet Yao insists that the government's
> goal is not repression: "If you're a [political] organizer, they
> want to know your motive," he says. "So they take the picture, give
> the photo, so at least they can find out who that person is."
> Until recently, Yao's photography empire was focused on consumers —
> taking class photos at schools, launching a Chinese knockoff of
> Flickr (the original is often blocked by the Great Firewall),
> turning photos of chubby two-year-olds into fridge magnets and
> lampshades. He still maintains those businesses, which means that
> half of the offices at Pixel Solutions look like they have just
> hosted a kid's birthday party. The other half looks like an ominous
> customs office, the walls lined with posters of terrorists in the
> cross hairs: FACE MATCH, FACE PASS, FACE WATCH. When Beijing
> started sinking more and more of the national budget into
> surveillance technologies, Yao saw an opportunity that would make
> all his previous ventures look small. Between more powerful
> computers, higher-resolution cameras and a global obsession with
> crime and terrorism, he figured that face recognition "should be
> the next dot-com."
> Not a computer scientist himself — he studied English literature in
> school — Yao began researching corporate leaders in the field. He
> learned that face recognition is highly controversial, with a track
> record of making wrong IDs. A few companies, however, were scoring
> much higher in controlled tests in the U.S. One of them was a
> company soon to be renamed L-1 Identity Solutions. Based in
> Connecticut, L-1 was created two years ago out of the mergers and
> buyouts of half a dozen major players in the biometrics field, all
> of which specialized in the science of identifying people through
> distinct physical traits: fingerprints, irises, face geometry. The
> mergers made L-1 a one-stop shop for biometrics. Thanks to board
> members like former CIA director George Tenet, the company rapidly
> became a homeland-security heavy hitter. L-1 projects its annual
> revenues will hit $1 billion by 2011, much of it from U.S.
> government contracts.
> In 2006, Yao tells me, "I made the first phone call and sent the
> first e-mail." For a flat fee of $20,000, he gained access to the
> company's proprietary software, allowing him to "build a lot of
> development software based on L-1's technology." Since then, L-1's
> partnership with Yao has gone far beyond that token investment. Yao
> says it isn't really his own company that is competing in the
> upcoming 10-million-faces test being staged by the Chinese
> government: "We'll be involved on behalf of L-1 in China." Yao adds
> that he communicates regularly with L1 and has visited the
> company's research headquarters in New Jersey. ("Out the window you
> can see the Statue of Liberty. It's such a historic place.") L1 is
> watching his test preparations with great interest, Yao says. "It
> seemed that they were more excited than us when we tell them the
> results."
> L-1's enthusiasm is hardly surprising: If Yao impresses the
> Ministry of Public Security with the company's ability to identify
> criminals, L-1 will have cracked the largest potential market for
> biometrics in the world. But here's the catch: As proud as Yao is
> to be L-1's Chinese licensee, L-1 appears to be distinctly less
> proud of its association with Yao. On its Website and in its
> reports to investors, L-1 boasts of contracts and negotiations with
> governments from Panama and Saudi Arabia to Mexico and Turkey.
> China, however, is conspicuously absent. And though CEO Bob LaPenta
> makes reference to "some large international opportunities," not
> once does he mention Pixel Solutions in Guangzhou.
> After leaving a message with the company inquiring about L-1's
> involvement in China's homeland-security market, I get a call back
> from Doni Fordyce, vice president of corporate communications. She
> has consulted Joseph Atick, the company's head of research. "We
> have nothing in China," she tells me. "Nothing, absolutely nothing.
> We are uninvolved. We really don't have any relationships at all."
> I tell Fordyce about Yao, the 10-million test, the money he paid
> for the software license. She'll call me right back. When she does,
> 20 minutes later, it is with this news: "Absolutely, we've sold
> testing SDKs [software development kits] to Pixel Solutions and to
> others [in China] that may be entering a test." Yao's use of the
> technology, she said, is "within his license" purchased from L-1.
> The company's reticence to publicize its activities in China could
> have something to do with the fact that the relationship between
> Yao and L-1 may well be illegal under U.S. law. After the Chinese
> government sent tanks into Tiananmen Square in 1989, Congress
> passed legislation barring U.S. companies from selling any products
> in China that have to do with "crime control or detection
> instruments or equipment." That means not only guns but everything
> from police batons and handcuffs to ink and powder for taking
> fingerprints, and software for storing them. Interestingly, one of
> the "detection instruments" that prompted the legislation was the
> surveillance camera. Beijing had installed several clunky cameras
> around Tiananmen Square, originally meant to monitor traffic flows.
> Those lenses were ultimately used to identify and arrest key pro-
> democracy dissidents.
> "The intent of that act," a congressional staff member with
> considerable China experience tells me, "was to keep U.S. companies
> out of the business of helping the Chinese police conduct their
> business, which might ultimately end up as it did in 1989 in the
> suppression of human rights and democracy in China."
> Pixel's application of L-1 facial-recognition software seems to fly
> in the face of the ban's intent. By his own admission, Yao is
> already getting visits from Chinese state spies anxious to use
> facial recognition to identify dissidents. And as part of the 10-
> million-faces test, Yao has been working intimately with Chinese
> national-security forces, syncing L-1's software to their vast
> database, a process that took a week of intensive work in Beijing.
> During that time, Yao says, he was on the phone "every day" with
> L-1, getting its help adapting the technology. "Because we are
> representing them," he says. "We took the test on their behalf."
> In other words, this controversial U.S. "crime control" technology
> has already found its way into the hands of the Chinese police.
> Moreover, Yao's goal, stated to me several times, is to use the
> software to land lucrative contracts with police agencies to
> integrate facial recognition into the newly built system of
> omnipresent surveillance cameras and high-tech national ID cards.
> As part of any contract he gets, Yao says, he will "pay L-1 a
> certain percentage of our sales."
> When I put the L-1 scenario to the Commerce Department's Bureau of
> Industry and Security — the division charged with enforcing the
> post-Tiananmen export controls — a representative says that
> software kits are subject to the sanctions if "they are exported
> from the U.S. or are the foreign direct product of a U.S.-origin
> item." Based on both criteria, the software kit sold to Yao seems
> to fall within the ban.
> When I ask Doni Fordyce at L-1 about the embargo, she tells me, "I
> don't know anything about that." Asked whether she would like to
> find out about it and call me back, she replies, "I really don't
> want to comment, so there is no comment." Then she hangs up.
> You have probably never heard of L-1, but there is every chance
> that it has heard of you. Few companies have collected as much
> sensitive information about U.S. citizens and visitors to America
> as L-1: It boasts a database of 60 million records, and it
> "captures" more than a million new fingerprints every year. Here is
> a small sample of what the company does: produces passports and
> passport cards for American citizens; takes finger scans of
> visitors to the U.S. under the Department of Homeland Security's
> massive U.S.-Visit program; equips U.S. soldiers in Iraq and
> Afghanistan with "mobile iris and multimodal devices" so they can
> collect biometric data in the field; maintains the State
> Department's "largest facial-recognition database system"; and
> produces driver's licenses in Illinois, Montana and North Carolina.
> In addition, L-1 has an even more secretive intelligence unit
> called SpecTal. Asked by a Wall Street analyst to discuss, in
> "extremely general" terms, what the division was doing with
> contracts worth roughly $100 million, the company's CEO would only
> say, "Stay tuned."
> It is L-1's deep integration with multiple U.S. government agencies
> that makes its dealings in China so interesting: It isn't just L-1
> that is potentially helping the Chinese police to nab political
> dissidents, it's U.S. taxpayers. The technology that Yao purchased
> for just a few thousand dollars is the result of Defense Department
> research grants and contracts going as far back as 1994, when a
> young academic named Joseph Atick (the research director Fordyce
> consulted on L-1's China dealings) taught a computer at Rockefeller
> University to recognize his face.
> Yao, for his part, knows all about the U.S. export controls on
> police equipment to China. He tells me that L-1's electronic
> fingerprinting tools are "banned from entering China" due to U.S.
> concerns that they will be used to "catch the political criminals,
> you know, the dissidents, more easily." He thinks he and L-1 have
> found a legal loophole, however. While fingerprinting technology
> appears on the Commerce Department's list of banned products, there
> is no explicit mention of "face prints" — likely because the idea
> was still in the realm of science fiction when the Tiananmen Square
> massacre took place. As far as Yao is concerned, that omission
> means that L-1 can legally supply its facial-recognition software
> for use by the Chinese government.
> Whatever the legality of L-1's participation in Chinese
> surveillance, it is clear that U.S. companies are determined to
> break into the homeland-security market in China, which represents
> their biggest growth potential since 9/11. According to the
> congressional staff member, American companies and their lobbyists
> are applying "enormous pressure to open the floodgates."
> The crackdown in Tibet has set off a wave of righteous rallies and
> boycott calls. But it sidesteps the uncomfortable fact that much of
> China's powerful surveillance state is already being built with
> U.S. and European technology. In February 2006, a congressional
> subcommittee held a hearing on "The Internet in China: A Tool for
> Freedom or Suppression?" Called on the carpet were Google (for
> building a special Chinese search engine that blocked sensitive
> material), Cisco (for supplying hardware for China's Great
> Firewall), Microsoft (for taking down political blogs at the behest
> of Beijing) and Yahoo (for complying with requests to hand over e-
> mail-account information that led to the arrest and imprisonment of
> a high-profile Chinese journalist, as well as a dissident who had
> criticized corrupt officials in online discussion groups). The
> issue came up again during the recent Tibet uproar when it was
> discovered that both MSN and Yahoo had briefly put up the mug shots
> of the "most wanted" Tibetan protesters on their Chinese news portals.
> In all of these cases, U.S. multinationals have offered the same
> defense: Cooperating with draconian demands to turn in customers
> and censor material is, unfortunately, the price of doing business
> in China. Some, like Google, have argued that despite having to
> limit access to the Internet, they are contributing to an overall
> increase of freedom in China. It's a story that glosses over the
> much larger scandal of what is actually taking place: Western
> investors stampeding into the country, possibly in violation of the
> law, with the sole purpose of helping the Communist Party spend
> billions of dollars building Police State 2.0. This isn't an
> unfortunate cost of doing business in China: It's the goal of doing
> business in China. "Come help us spy!" the Chinese government has
> said to the world. And the world's leading technology companies are
> eagerly answering the call.
> As The New York Times recently reported, aiding and abetting
> Beijing has become an investment boom for U.S. companies. Honeywell
> is working with Chinese police to "set up an elaborate computer
> monitoring system to analyze feeds from indoor and outdoor cameras
> in one of Beijing's most populated districts." General Electric is
> providing Beijing police with a security system that controls
> "thousands of video cameras simultaneously, and automatically
> alerts them to suspicious or fast-moving objects, like people
> running." IBM, meanwhile, is installing its "Smart Surveillance
> System" in the capital, another system for linking video cameras
> and scanning for trouble, while United Technologies is in
> Guangzhou, helping to customize a "2,000-camera network in a single
> large neighborhood, the first step toward a citywide network of
> 250,000 cameras to be installed before the Asian Games in 2010." By
> next year, the Chinese internal-security market will be worth an
> estimated $33 billion — around the same amount Congress has
> allocated for reconstructing Iraq.
> "We're at the start of a massive boom in Chinese security
> spending," according to Graham Summers, a market analyst who
> publishes an investor newsletter in Baltimore. "And just as we need
> to be aware of how to profit from the growth in China's commodity
> consumption, we need to be aware of companies that will profit from
> 'security consumption.' . . . There's big money to be made."
> While U.S. companies are eager to break into China's rapidly
> expanding market, every Chinese security firm I come across in the
> Pearl River Delta is hatching some kind of plan to break into the
> U.S. market. No one, however, is quite as eager as Aebell
> Electrical Technology, one of China's top 10 security companies.
> Aebell has a contract to help secure the Olympic swimming stadium
> in Beijing and has installed more than 10,000 cameras in and around
> Guangzhou. Business has been growing by 100 percent a year. When I
> meet the company's fidgety general manager, Zheng Sun Man, the
> first thing he tells me is "We are going public at the end of this
> year. On the Nasdaq." It also becomes clear why he has chosen to
> speak with a foreign reporter: "Help, help, help!" he begs me.
> "Help us promote our products!"
> Zheng, an MBA from one of China's top schools, proudly shows me the
> business card of the New York investment bank that is handling
> Aebell's IPO, as well as a newly printed English-language brochure
> showing off the company's security cameras. Its pages are filled
> with American iconography, including businessmen exchanging wads of
> dollar bills and several photos of the New York skyline that
> prominently feature the World Trade Center. In the hall at company
> headquarters is a poster of two interlocking hearts: one depicting
> the American flag, the other the Aebell logo.
> I ask Zheng whether China's surveillance boom has anything to do
> with the rise in strikes and demonstrations in recent years.
> Zheng's deputy, a 23-year veteran of the Chinese military wearing a
> black Mao suit, responds as if I had launched a direct attack on
> the Communist Party itself. "If you walk out of this building, you
> will be under surveillance in five to six different ways," he says,
> staring at me hard. He lets the implication of his words linger in
> the air like an unspoken threat. "If you are a law-abiding citizen,
> you shouldn't be afraid," he finally adds. "The criminals are the
> only ones who should be afraid."
> One of the first people to sound the alarm on China's upgraded
> police state was a British researcher named Greg Walton. In 2000,
> Walton was commissioned by the respected human-rights organization
> Rights & Democracy to investigate the ways in which Chinese
> security forces were harnessing the tools of the Information Age to
> curtail free speech and monitor political activists. The paper he
> produced was called "China's Golden Shield: Corporations and the
> Development of Surveillance Technology in the People's Republic of
> China." It exposed how big-name tech companies like Nortel and
> Cisco were helping the Chinese government to construct "a gigantic
> online database with an all-encompassing surveillance network —
> incorporating speech and face recognition, closed-circuit
> television, smart cards, credit records and Internet surveillance
> technologies."
> When the paper was complete, Walton met with the institute's staff
> to strategize about how to release his explosive findings. "We
> thought this information was going to shock the world," he recalls.
> In the midst of their discussions, a colleague barged in and
> announced that a plane had hit the Twin Towers. The meeting
> continued, but they knew the context of their work had changed
> forever.
> Walton's paper did have an impact, but not the one he had hoped.
> The revelation that China was constructing a gigantic digital
> database capable of watching its citizens on the streets and
> online, listening to their phone calls and tracking their consumer
> purchases sparked neither shock nor outrage. Instead, Walton says,
> the paper was "mined for ideas" by the U.S. government, as well as
> by private companies hoping to grab a piece of the suddenly booming
> market in spy tools. For Walton, the most chilling moment came when
> the Defense Department tried to launch a system called Total
> Information Awareness to build what it called a "virtual,
> centralized grand database" that would create constantly updated
> electronic dossiers on every citizen, drawing on banking, credit-
> card, library and phone records, as well as footage from
> surveillance cameras. "It was clearly similar to what we were
> condemning China for," Walton says. Among those aggressively vying
> to be part of this new security boom was Joseph Atick, now an
> executive at L-1. The name he chose for his plan to integrate
> facial-recognition software into a vast security network was
> uncomfortably close to the surveillance system being constructed in
> China: "Operation Noble Shield."
> Empowered by the Patriot Act, many of the big dreams hatched by men
> like Atick have already been put into practice at home. New York,
> Chicago and Washington, D.C., are all experimenting with linking
> surveillance cameras into a single citywide network. Police use of
> surveillance cameras at peaceful demonstrations is now routine, and
> the images collected can be mined for "face prints," then cross-
> checked with ever-expanding photo databases. Although Total
> Information Awareness was scrapped after the plans became public,
> large pieces of the project continue, with private data-mining
> companies collecting unprecedented amounts of information about
> everything from Web browsing to car rentals, and selling it to the
> government.
> Such efforts have provided China's rulers with something even more
> valuable than surveillance technology from Western democracies: the
> ability to claim that they are just like us. Liu Zhengrong, a
> senior official dealing with China's Internet policy, has defended
> Golden Shield and other repressive measures by invoking the Patriot
> Act and the FBI's massive e-mail-mining operations. "It is clear
> that any country's legal authorities closely monitor the spread of
> illegal information," he said. "We have noted that the U.S. is
> doing a good job on this front." Lin Jiang Huai, the head of China
> Information Security Technology, credits America for giving him the
> idea to sell biometric IDs and other surveillance tools to the
> Chinese police. "Bush helped me get my vision," he has said.
> Similarly, when challenged on the fact that dome cameras are
> appearing three to a block in Shenzhen and Guangzhou, Chinese
> companies respond that their model is not the East German Stasi but
> modern-day London.
> Human-rights activists are quick to point out that while the tools
> are the same, the political contexts are radically different. China
> has a government that uses its high-tech web to imprison and
> torture peaceful protesters, Tibetan monks and independent-minded
> journalists. Yet even here, the lines are getting awfully blurry.
> The U.S. currently has more people behind bars than China, despite
> a population less than a quarter of its size. And Sharon Hom,
> executive director of the advocacy group Human Rights in China,
> says that when she talks about China's horrific human-rights record
> at international gatherings, "There are two words that I hear in
> response again and again: Guantánamo Bay."
> The Fourth Amendment prohibition against illegal search and seizure
> made it into the U.S. Constitution precisely because its drafters
> understood that the power to snoop is addictive. Even if we happen
> to trust in the good intentions of the snoopers, the nature of any
> government can change rapidly — which is why the Constitution
> places limits on the tools available to any regime. But the
> drafters could never have imagined the commercial pressures at play
> today. The global homeland-security business is now worth an
> estimated $200 billion — more than Hollywood and the music industry
> combined. Any sector of that size inevitably takes on its own
> momentum. New markets must be found — which, in the Big Brother
> business, means an endless procession of new enemies and new
> emergencies: crime, immigration, terrorism.
> In Shenzhen one night, I have dinner with a U.S. business
> consultant named Stephen Herrington. Before he started lecturing at
> Chinese business schools, teaching students concepts like brand
> management, Herrington was a military-intelligence officer,
> ascending to the rank of lieutenant colonel. What he is seeing in
> the Pearl River Delta, he tells me, is scaring the hell out of him
> — and not for what it means to China.
> "I can guarantee you that there are people in the Bush
> administration who are studying the use of surveillance
> technologies being developed here and have at least skeletal plans
> to implement them at home," he says. "We can already see it in New
> York with CCTV cameras. Once you have the cameras in place, you
> have the infrastructure for a powerful tracking system. I'm worried
> about what this will mean if the U.S. government goes totalitarian
> and starts employing these technologies more than they are already.
> I'm worried about the threat this poses to American democracy."
> Herrington pauses. "George W. Bush," he adds, "would do what they
> are doing here in a heartbeat if he could."
> China-bashing never fails to soothe the Western conscience — here
> is a large and powerful country that, when it comes to human rights
> and democracy, is so much worse than Bush's America. But during my
> time in Shenzhen, China's youngest and most modern city, I often
> have the feeling that I am witnessing not some rogue police state
> but a global middle ground, the place where more and more countries
> are converging. China is becoming more like us in very visible ways
> (Starbucks, Hooters, cellphones that are cooler than ours), and we
> are becoming more like China in less visible ones (torture,
> warrantless wiretapping, indefinite detention, though not nearly on
> the Chinese scale).
> What is most disconcerting about China's surveillance state is how
> familiar it all feels. When I check into the Sheraton in Shenzhen,
> for instance, it looks like any other high-end hotel chain — only
> the lobby is a little more modern and the cheerful clerk doesn't
> just check my passport but takes a scan of it.
> "Are you making a copy?" I ask.
> "No, no," he responds helpfully. "We're just sending a copy to the
> police."
> Up in my room, the Website that pops up on my laptop looks like
> every other Net portal at a hotel — only it won't let me access
> human-rights and labor Websites that I know are working fine. The
> TV gets CNN International — only with strange edits and obviously
> censored blackouts. My cellphone picks up a strong signal for the
> China Mobile network. A few months earlier, in Davos, Switzerland,
> the CEO of China Mobile bragged to a crowd of communications
> executives that "we not only know who you are, we also know where
> you are." Asked about customer privacy, he replied that his company
> only gives "this kind of data to government authorities" — pretty
> much the same answer I got from the clerk at the front desk.
> When I leave China, I feel a powerful relief: I have escaped. I am
> home safe. But the feeling starts to fade as soon as I get to the
> customs line at JFK, watching hundreds of visitors line up to have
> their pictures taken and fingers scanned. In the terminal, someone
> hands me a brochure for "Fly Clear." All I need to do is have my
> fingerprints and irises scanned, and I can get a Clear card with a
> biometric chip that will let me sail through security. Later, I
> look it up: The company providing the technology is L-1.
> [From Issue 1053 — May 29, 2008]
>
> http://www.rollingstone.com/politics/story/20797485/
> chinas_allseeing_eye/print
>
>
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