By Prof. Naomi Klineberg
What is justice without privacy? It is a question that, until recently, belonged to the realm of speculative philosophy. Today, it feels less like a thought experiment and more like a daily headline.
From the cameras embedded in our streets to the trackers in our phones, the capacity to monitor individuals has outpaced our moral vocabulary for discussing it. Surveillance technologies promise safety, efficiency, even fairness—but at what cost to the invisible space where individual dignity resides?
The Hidden Premises of Privacy
Justice, at least in its liberal democratic form, rests on the premise that individuals are autonomous agents. They can make choices without constant oversight, and those choices are evaluated only when they intersect with the rights of others or the laws of the state. Privacy is the medium in which that autonomy breathes.
If every action is observed, every word recorded, autonomy shifts from a lived reality to a tolerated illusion. You may still act, but the knowledge that you are always watched changes how you act. The philosopher Jeremy Bentham envisioned his Panopticon as a prison; our age risks building one for ourselves and calling it progress.
Safety Versus Freedom, or Something Else?
The familiar framing—safety versus freedom—oversimplifies. A society without privacy might still be “free” in the sense that elections occur and laws are publicly debated. But if the citizenry self-censors, if dissent is stifled before it takes form, if individuals avoid certain associations or ideas because they might be flagged for review, the machinery of justice operates in a hollowed-out shell.
The question, then, is not merely whether privacy loss makes us less free, but whether it changes the very shape of our moral community.
The Temptation of Perfect Information
Those who govern, even with the best intentions, may see in surveillance a path toward perfect information. Perfect information seems to promise perfect justice: crimes prevented before they happen, bias reduced by data-driven decision-making, public resources allocated with mathematical precision.
But justice is not simply a matter of outcomes—it is also about process. A just decision is one reached through fair procedures, informed consent, and respect for the moral agency of those affected. Strip away privacy, and these procedures warp. Consent given under the gaze of constant monitoring is not freely given; fairness loses its footing when everyone knows they are already on file.
A Question Without a Comfortable Answer
Can a just society survive the loss of privacy? Possibly—but it will not be the same kind of society we have known. It will be one where justice is defined less by mutual trust and more by managed compliance, where dignity is measured not in freedom from intrusion but in the benevolence of those watching.
The harder question—the one we must not avoid—is whether we are prepared to accept such a trade. In the absence of privacy, justice will still have a name, but will it still have a soul?
