Abstract
What do citizens of different ages around the world think about the long-term consequences of signing up to Covid-19 apps? Our reporters
Kim Ki-kyung, a 28-year-old who lives in Seoul, is used to the idea of his mobile phone tracking his movements, so he wasn’t bothered when he learned that his government would have access to his location data as part of efforts to contain the coronavirus outbreak.
Several times a day, the millions of smart-phones in South Korea bleat in unison with government alerts that users cannot opt out of receiving. When Covid-19 cases are diagnosed, the ages and genders of the patients are disclosed to the public, along with the routes they took in the days before their diagnosis, so that others can avoid those places.
While the system raises issues of privacy, Kim thinks the potential benefits outweigh the concerns.
“Everyone is at least somewhat reluctant to share personal data with the government, but the tracking app allows the authorities to monitor people who are in self-quarantine, and will allow epidemiological surveys to be done faster,” he said.
“The government system sounds terrible at first, but it really isn’t all that different from regular smart services, like Google Maps or Nike Run Club.”
Kim says he follows the news on how the government plans to handle the data gleaned from the programme but isn’t too worried about the data being used for some nefarious purpose somewhere down the road. He feels the more urgent task is containing the public health crisis.
A family wear protective face-masks as they walk through the streets of Seoul, South Korea, during the coronavirus pandemic
CREDIT : Roy Johnson/ Alamy
“If no one survives the pandemic, there will be no one left to care about privacy,” he said.
South Koreans generally approve of their government’s handling of the crisis, including the measures that require citizens to cede some degree of privacy. A poll carried out by the culture ministry found that 80% of respondents said the government ought to track the movements of people in quarantine for suspected Covid-19 infection – with or without consent.
A separate poll, carried out by Hankook Research, logged more than 80% of respondents answering that South Korea’s response to Covid-19 was “better than other countries”.
A poll carried out in late March, by Gallup Korea, showed 55% of respondents saying that the government was doing a good job running the country, up from 47% in the second week of January. South Korea confirmed the country’s first coronavirus case on 20 January.
The country’s National Human Rights Commission implored the government to execute contact tracing, and subsequent sharing of information, in the “least invasive way possible”, and argued that tracking could present risks such as making people less likely to seek testing or treatment for unrelated medical issues, knowing that their locations were being tracked and stored indefinitely.
Lim Mo-ran, a 42-year-old mother of two small children, argued that her government erred in not being strict enough in handling the virus.
She said she had no problem with the mandatory tracking or alerts, and added: “The outbreak is an emergency and we needed strong measures to deal with it.”
Her criticisms of the government’s response were about it not bringing in a comprehensive travel ban on all of China, where the outbreak originated, and not enacting measures to avoid a shortage of face masks in the early stages of the outbreak.
She never takes her two young sons out in public without masks.
Lee Jang-soo, 64, says that the coronavirus outbreak reminds him of his youth in the 1970s when, for a time, soldiers manned checkpoints on the streets of his hometown, Busan, under a system of martial law.
When Lee was a teenager, if he wanted to go anywhere he had to get permission not just from his parents but from the soldiers patrolling the streets who would badger him about where he was going, whom he planned to meet and when he would return.
The quiet streets in Busan, on South Korea’s southern coast, remind him of those days. But he points out one important difference between the two eras.
Nowadays, Korea is a democracy, and citizens have legal ways of resisting if they feel their government is overreaching.
“Our country has controlled the virus because the government has been organised, and to be organised they need to have data, they need to know where infected people are,” he said.
He then proffered a line that Koreans often use when presented with challenging circumstances: “We just have to endure.”
Women walk past some coronavirus-related graffiti in Barcelona, Spain
CREDIT: Fotomoviento/Flickr
People we spoke to in Spain were more concerned about the use of personal information collected by monitoring apps than those in other countries.
The main conclusion drawn from the interviews is that people do not trust the system completely and fear data might be misused by the government and private companies – perhaps because some people have memories of what it was like living under the General Franco dictatorship.
Juan Giménez, 28, agrees with using these apps “only for controlling the spread of the virus”. Cristina Morales, 26, considers it “a violation of privacy but, at the same time, it is appropriate to guarantee citizens’ safety and prevent confinement violations”.
Ana Corral, 22, said: “[It is] OK as long as we know which information is used, exactly how it will be used and where the data is saved. If the goal is to know if you might be infected or have been infected, that is fine.”
Some also mention social good as a priority.
“There are always individual sacrifices for the common good,” said Manuel Noguera, 40.
For Eduardo Manjavacas, also 40, “the end justifies the means”.
Amelia Rustina, 30, said: “Everything made for a global good and with a clear privacy policy is welcome. We live in a digital age; our data is studied daily for commercial purposes.”
And Sabina Urraca, 36, is ready for that sacrifice. “I would like to trust individual responsibility, but I don’t.”
On the other hand, older people are more reluctant, and many claim they would not register with these apps at all.
For Sofía Navarro, 74, the apps are “an invasion of people’s privacy and coerce personal freedoms”. Navarro would not even register momentarily, because “my medical or identity data are one thing, but when I go out, and where I go, is the little freedom I have left”.
Antonio Cano, 69, worries his movements are stored and used improperly.
“The data protection law exists to protect us from that,” he said.
Inmaculada Ramírez, 61, said: “In the long run, this is a way of manipulating us even more.”
Among those interviewees who would register, there is a common desire that the use of data is only temporary.
“Once the pandemic ends, both collected data and monitoring systems should disappear,” said Giménez.
“I would register momentarily as long as the data is deleted once everything is over,” added Corral.
Miguel Rubio, 50, believes it must prove “that once the pandemic is controlled, our data will be automatically erased and we will be unsubscribed”.
This is due to concerns that data might be used after the pandemic expires and there is a widespread mistrust in the system.
Rubén Morales, 39, fears that the system may be hacked and used for other purposes. “Once you give way in privacy, it is difficult to go back.”
“In the USA, [much] data provided online is transferred to the FBI. I suspect the CNI – National Intelligence Centre – will do something similar,” he added.
The motives for tracking are being questioned across the generations.
Francisco Tomás, 63, said: “I do not see anything positive. I don’t want the government to control my movements.”
And Carmen Seva, 32, asked: “Who would invest in developing an app from which valuable data cannot be collected?
“I don’t trust political institutions. I do not believe any measure is suggested for the common good rather than for the perpetuation of power.”
On the other hand, respondents believe that controlling the virus does not necessarily entail controlling citizens’ movements.
For Guillermina Ortega, 38, “testing the population is essential; controlling our movements is unnecessary and dangerous”.
The Italians trust the government – but with some caution.
They believe that giving up part of their privacy is a negotiable asset to protect public health and they want more reassurances on the functioning of the tracking app, wishing to know who will keep the sensitive data after the end of the pandemic.
Index spoke to 50 Italian citizens aged between 20 and 60 – in different parts of the country, in different professions and from different backgrounds – about their thoughts on the Immuni tracking app announced by the Italian government as part of its approach to Covid-19.
The app was preceded by a similar experiment in the Italian region most affected by the pandemic, Lombardy, where some of the interviewees live.
Federica Magistro, 22, a university student, and Anna Pesco, 60, a teacher, living in Milan, downloaded the app in Lombardy and are currently using it. They also plan to use the national app. Both hope that the remaining 60% of Italians also think the same way, so it maximises its use across the entire population.
Magistro said: “I think I should trust those who are developing it and the government that offers it.” Pesco added: “I would like maximum transparency and I would like to have an absolute guarantee on the deletion of my data at the end of the pandemic.”
Another teacher, Maia Pirovano, 63, said: “Downloading is an act of responsibility, as long as it really works.” And Giusi Pappalardo, 50, who works in communications, said: “I have no worries about tracking, after all I use a pedometer and GPS when I run. Rather, I wonder how this app can be functional if it is not accompanied by serological tests for the whole population. If you don’t know you are positive – if you are asymptomatic even – how do you answer the questions the app asks you? And if you can’t answer, in the end, what is this app for?”
The same questions are also asked by Francesco Castagna, 25, an LGBTQ activist from Rome, who believes the app would be of great collective help.
“The LGBTQ community is not addressing this issue for the first time: HIV risk has trained us. We are used to declaring our condition of positivity openly, in the interest of the whole community. We are also used to living suspended in time, waiting to know if we could be positive or not,” he said.
“And, personally, I believe that the Italian app is not intrusive. After all, if you entrust Tinder with intimate data such as your sexual preferences and a declared positivity, I don’t see any problem in sharing data using an app of such great importance for the whole national community.”
Alessandro Lozza, 56, a neurologist, sees only good things: “This app has no accessible identifier, because it produces a Qcode that is associated with the phone number and does not even have a positive outbreaks navigator, like the South Korean model.
People in Sicily, Italy, queue up outside a supermarket during the coronavirus pandemic
CREDIT: Kontrolab/Getty
“On the contrary, it will have the advantage of mapping the contacts of each patient, eliminating mountains of paperwork, bureaucracy, self-certification and cross-checks between the national health system and law enforcement agencies who do not always manage to work together.”
Lozza, who travels a lot, thinks developing a European app would create a roaming health
passport. “If the data were shared across Europe, we could also avoid bureaucracy at the borders, and we would facilitate travelling more easily.” Lawyer Francesco Bonanno, 46, is not wor-
ried about the privacy implications.
“The purpose of data collection is of such public importance that the problem does not arise,” he said.
Italians are not all so optimistic or confident, however. Marina Fichera, 50, a manager, worries about data being used locally.
“I feel quite confident about my data being held by the national government but, for example, I have not downloaded the app of the Lombardy region because I have no confidence in the regional executive, in the hands of the right-wing parties.”
And Max Studer, a psychologist, also lacks confidence in the process.
“I trust technicians and politicians less than artists,” he said. “Let’s not forget about [George] Orwell’s predictions. Art is a predictive science. I would be inclined not to download an app that tomorrow could turn into a boomerang in the wrong hands.”
Gianna Pasi, a nurse, is also sceptical about downloading the app. “I know certain tracking mechanisms so well that I have no desire to voluntarily join one more,” she said.
It would seem that those with experience of countries where state control over citizens is far more stringent have more serious concerns about being tracked.
Marta Ottaviani, 40, a journalist who used to work in Turkey, will not download the app. “We ask ourselves what could become of the health data associated with a particular ethnic group or a religious minority if some xenophobic parties came to government,” she said.
And Marta Bellingreri, 30, a researcher, has just recovered after a two-month fight against Covid-19.
She said: “No, although I have been positive – and now I am healed – I will not download it. I don’t think that after 55 days of total isolation this app will help me psychologically. I only count on individual and collective responsibility.”
Carola Frediani, 40, a cybersecurity expert, is also cautious, believing security is key to making it more acceptable to people.
“If the management of the data obtained with the app will be completely decentralised on different servers, and the data protected with anonymisation systems to also prevent possible cyber-attacks, it will be an acceptable operation.”