Thursday, 16 February 2012
I'm not going to voice any political comments on this blog. I'll save them for the dinner table over a glass of wine but one of the biggest changes in the last 12 years is the amount of "surveillance" in every day life. My identity card number now defines all aspects of my life. It usually doesn't bother me too much as I try to keep my head down, so why was I so unsettled this week when I had to give my fingerprints before I could get a new driving licence? In the past I didn't like going to Muḡla to give blood in order to get married: was annoyed at having to get my husband's permission to start a business, and nipping down to the notary to record every purchase and sale seemed excessive, but I accepted it without much heartache. The finger-printing came across as overly intrusive. It may be because I associate being finger-printed with being suspected of a crime. The nice police lady suggested I keep a copy of my prints as I will need them frequently in the future. For the life of me I can't think why.