The news that hit my feed this morning made my blood run cold. A woman seeking an abortion was tracked using Flock camera systems – those ubiquitous license plate readers that seem to multiply on our streets like weeds after rain. The authorities used this surveillance network to build a case against her, turning what should be private healthcare into a digital dragnet.

This isn’t just about reproductive rights, though that’s certainly part of it. This is about how we’ve sleepwalked into a surveillance state while telling ourselves it’s all for our own good.

The news about Apple pulling the ICEBlock app from their store has been doing the rounds this week, and frankly, it’s got me thinking about how easily our digital tools can become political weapons. For those who missed it, ICEBlock was an app designed to alert users about Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) activity in their area. The new Attorney General, Pam Bondi, claimed it put ICE agents at risk, the developer pushed back, and now it’s gone from the App Store.

Nearly a million people have signed a petition against the UK’s proposed digital ID scheme, and frankly, I’m not surprised. What started as half a million signatures has exploded past the 800,000 mark and keeps climbing. When you see numbers like that, you know something has struck a nerve.

The whole thing reminds me of conversations I’ve had with mates here in Melbourne about the MyGov digital services rollout. Sure, it’s convenient when it works, but there’s always that nagging feeling that you’re handing over more control than you’re getting back in return. The UK situation feels like that, but dialled up to eleven.

Been following this whole Chat Control saga in Europe lately, and honestly, it’s got me pretty wound up. The latest news about Denmark pushing hard for mass surveillance of our digital communications under the banner of “protecting children” has me reaching for my second latte of the day – and not in a good way.

Don’t get me wrong, protecting kids from abuse is absolutely crucial. But when I see politicians exempting themselves from the very surveillance they’re imposing on the rest of us, alarm bells start ringing louder than a Melbourne tram at peak hour. The irony becomes even more bitter when you learn that a Danish politician was recently charged with possessing thousands of CSAM images while simultaneously advocating for these intrusive measures. The hypocrisy is staggering.

Been thinking a lot lately about how our suburbs are quietly transforming into something that would make Orwell raise an eyebrow. What started as a discussion about neighbourhood surveillance tech has got me wondering: when did keeping an eye out for actual crime turn into keeping tabs on anyone who dares to be different?

The whole thing reminds me of walking through some of Melbourne’s newer housing estates - you know the ones, where every second house has a Ring doorbell and there’s a Neighbourhood Watch sticker on every telegraph pole. There’s this sterile, watchful quality to these places that feels fundamentally different from the communities I grew up in. Back then, if someone was acting suspicious, Mrs Henderson from next door would actually talk to them, not immediately start livestreaming to a Facebook group.

I’ve been reading about the latest expansion of digital surveillance programs in the US, and frankly, it’s keeping me up at night. The reports coming out about ICE and other agencies quietly expanding their contracts with private firms to monitor social media activity aren’t just troubling—they’re a glimpse into a future that feels uncomfortably familiar to anyone who’s read their history books.

The scope of what’s happening is staggering. We’re not talking about monitoring specific threats or criminal activity. These systems are designed to flag “negative opinions” about government operations, map out dissent, and link online activity to real-world identities. Your face, your phone, your location, your contacts, even your relatives—all fair game in this digital dragnet.

Reading about a journalist’s investigation into police surveillance cameras in rural Virginia sent chills down my spine this morning. The investigation revealed an extensive network of automated license plate readers (ALPRs) tracking vehicles across hundreds of miles, and it got me thinking about our own surveillance situation here.

Remember when the biggest privacy concern was speed cameras on the Eastern Freeway? Those days seem quaint now. We’re living in an era where our movements are constantly monitored, logged, and stored in databases that can be accessed with frightening ease.