What being connected means for someone feeling scared
What happens when you’re scared and not connected? When there’s no network?
Listening to this week’s Telecoms.com podcast reminded me of a time where I felt significantly more in danger and froze, because I had no connectivity and couldn’t react as quickly as I usually did. I couldn’t even hail a taxi.
Anyway, the topic discussion first, before my story.
“… this is what concerns me with the race to connect everything…” — Iain Morris, Light Reading’s International Editor said in the Telecoms.com podcast.
There are always two sides to a coin and it’s important we consider and start preparing by being aware of the downsides, while pursuing the clear advantages while “in a rush to innovate”, aptly put across by Scott Bicheno, Editor of Telecoms.com, in the pod.
“It’s not going to slow down,” as Andrew Wooden, Telecoms.com’s Deputy Editor said. And I agree that we’ve got to keep going to make things happen, to make a difference in lives. After all, that’s the beauty of humans — always in pursuit of improvement and pushing boundaries fueled by drive and social comparison. This race could be said to be perhaps partly driven by Social Comparison Theory, where the better one’s position is perceived to be relatively, the more satisfied one must be.
Max Roser, Hannah Ritchie and Edouard Mathieu (2013) - "Technological Change". Published online at OurWorldInData.org. Retrieved from: 'https://ourworldindata.org/technological-change' [Online Resource]It’s not just about always being connected to a network, it’s also about always having your device switched on, working, and with you. I recall a conversation with influencer duo, The Grattons, where they put forth the argument that we’re all robots now — after all, we always have a phone with us and we’re somewhat dictated by what it tells us to do. The dependency on tech is what scares me. I guess I might just consider getting a satellite phone (referencing the Telecoms.com pod again and their discussion about satellite phones). Or a phone designed for the slightly more scared/safety-compromised human like me (at that time).
So after all that, here’s recounting a part of that experience that hints at the social and safety concerns that tech and connectivity could also bring about. Hopefully the recount of my experience helps add weight as to why this discussion matters. Why this is something we need to think about.
The story.
In short, it was 2018. I was blackmailed online by a catfish (ugh, Tinder) on the night of new years eve. I went to the police headquarters right away. I didn’t get help for at least 3 hours while the perp was hostile and threatening me. By then, I was cold, without water, coughing (was sick) and the worst part: my phone was dead. I had no means of knowing whether the perp had already done something, no means of getting help. No means of researching what to do, of reaching out to a friend for comfort, of getting reassurance that I’d be ok. That’s ok, I was already in the police station, I should be safe there.
What I did not expect was for my case only to be taken hours later at 3am, by a kind officer who was not on reception duty (after I started crying and he spotted me). And after all that, I could not even lodge a report, but just a diary entry — apparently assuming because I haven’t been murdered yet — i.e. no crime commited so nothing to report. But I’ll talk about that next time, maybe — other security concerns of tech whose advancements have not been quick enough to catch up with product releases.
So 3am, in the heart of Singapore, on new years eve night. Picture: drunks on the streets, it’s dark, barely any traffic. I haven’t hailed a cab in years and had to find a way to get home without being able to call a cab or use the ride hailing apps I got so used to. I couldn’t call home. On hindsight I should have walked back to the station and ask to use the phone. But after the arduous 3–4 hours I just went through in the station, it’s the last place I thought to be. I wanted to go home.
I walked onto the dark, deserted street, crossed to the side of the road where I can expect incoming traffic in the direction of my home and tried to hail a cab whenever I spotted one — it was rare at that time. Peak period. High demand, low supply. There was a drunk at the nearby bus stop. I was just threatened by a man and so naturally was afraid by the presence of a drunk male, while all alone.
I saw a cab — sign said busy. I hailed anyway, I needed help. Thankfully the driver stopped, wound down his window and asked where I was going. He picked me up, and when I got into the car he said, “I’ve got a daughter. And I saw how that man was looking at you. I’ll get you home.” I had no cash, no cards — was so used to paying through my phone. The cabbie was kind enough to wait outside my home while I get money. Today, I hold onto hope in humanity while I recall the kindness of that police officer and the cabbie.
That was my experience of not having my phone and safety nets that were so reliant on my phone and connectivity. Sure, others would’ve experienced worse — I can’t even imagine those present at the Seoul stampede and other unfortunate events would’ve felt.
I guess this is part of my call or naive wish that tech companies, lawmakers, and those working on security, also pursue creating safeguards for these amazing, life-changing new inventions as relentlessly as we pursue the opportunities they bring. I’m not saying we should slow down in the race. I am hoping we also speed up the race to creating safeguards and safe spaces, or pre-emptive technology/aid for those in need.
