On the issue of data, we have philosophized too much. There have been too many conferences, too much sociology, too many Netflix documentaries. We took for granted (a not-so-casual word) that our data had long been in the hands of big tech algorithms—for marketing, for politics, for X reasons. We didn’t fully grasp the effects until we discovered during the lockdown that our children had entered a bubble where they found answers to their fears, which subsequently conditioned them. But where vision or intuition falls short, fortunately, journalism steps in.
The Milanese investigation into the gang of spies who offered and traded data for a variety of reasons—money and power, rummaging through the lives of politicians and the glamorous girlfriends of wealthy Italian heirs—has proportions and severity that can no longer be ignored. Public opinion is reacting, and finally, so is politics, which understands a fundamental truth: the world of cyber is not a mere corollary of modernity, but it has a grammar that mirrors our increasingly digital lives. Therefore, the rules must change, along with the systems of prevention and punishment. This marks a historic shift in mindset. Pervasive and uncontrollable spying becomes the wound of democracy. Forget about the return of fascism; the individual, privacy, and even public secrets are at risk.
These are not rogue intelligence services. That obliquity reassures us because it suggests a line of correctness from which one can deviate. However, in these stories, all lines have been crossed. Beyond good and evil, in a philosophical sense, the protagonists do not fit the stereotype of the villain; they are almost always excellent former public officials. The guards and thieves resemble each other in the grand game of mirrors that is virtuality. Our data has become signs rather than secrets hidden away, and that drawer is no longer violated but is itself a sign of the global commerce that has become so sought after.
