Chapter 1 of Life After Privacy is an ideal first look for the average reader. This chapter examines our curious, conflicted relationship to privacy. We may say that privacy is important; we may recognize it as a crucial historical and political virtue—especially in America. In general, however, we hardly know what privacy is, or why it is valuable. And our behavior suggests we care very little about privacy at all.Historians might argue that the United States was born of privacy concerns; colonists rebelled against British troops who occupied their homes and invaded their shops and warehouses. Privacy seems the quintessential American value. But it is not mentioned once in the U.S. Constitution; the right to privacy is articulated a century later—and only earns widespread legal protections in the 1960s.In America, the right to privacy is everywhere, and nowhere. It is arguably the central design principle of suburbia, where most Americans live. And yet, isolated on suburban lots, behind privacy fences, in expansive basements, people go online—and expose themselves rather wantonly. I dub this our new ‘confessional culture.’ It amounts to something like a change in human nature, how we share so instinctively, and completely. Online, there is a growing sense that nothing is or should or need be private. Which means that our digital spies do not have to work hard to learn much about us. We digital citizens—thanks to our new culture of sharing—are the greatest threat to privacy.Cultural critics and philosophers have tried to understand why we are suddenly so apt to share. Some believe it is in keeping with the capitalist spirit of entrepreneurialism: we share online in order to craft our personal ‘brand’ that we ‘sell’ to impressionable peers. Some argue, by contrast, that the impulsive sharing betrays an interest in privacy: when we expose some things, this draws attention away from others. I conclude, however, that we share because digital technology is a medium, and offers a sense of remove. It acts like Gyges ring, from Plato’s Republic, which makes its bearer invisible—and unhinged. Online, we feel utterly free, liberated to do and say what we like, with no thought of consequences—because we are physically removed from other people, whom we might injure or insult. Ironically, then, we are wont to share online because of a preponderant sense—and illusion—that we are alone, or private.Our tenuous grasp of privacy, furthermore, is testified by a common adjective ascribed to privacy invasions: we dub them ‘creepy.’ When Target studies consumer data to determine when female customers are pregnant—in their second trimester, no less—we call this ‘creepy.’ This is the strongest complaint we can muster against surveillance regimes, but it is quite hollow, and useless. For, calling something creepy is to recognize that it is wrong—but you can’t say exactly what is wrong, or why. No wonder we cannot be bothered to protect privacy.Many have observed in 2020 that democracy is endangered, largely by the lure and power of populist autocracy, which is ascendant worldwide—even in the United States, the largest and oldest democracy. Early internet evangelizers believed digital media would be a boon for democracy, enabling different people from across society, even all over the world, to communicate with one another, and build bridges. It did not work out this way: online, people flock to their own kind; they do not want their worldview challenged, but affirmed. They migrate to echo chambers, where they are hardened in their views, and vilify the opposition. Thus, digital media have made for greater political division and partisanship, especially in the United States.In 2011, during the Arab Spring, it looked like digital media would be a wellspring of democratic revolution; now, autocratic regimes have fully coopted said media. They have learned it is easy to isolate and influence people online, confuse them and splinter them, and prevent popular power from coalescing.I hope Life After Privacy might make people aware of the dangers and shortcomings of digital technology. We are wrongly urged to put our hopes in protecting privacy, as if that were the way to salvage liberty and democracy. But online privacy is worth little—it amounts to little political power—even if it were possible to achieve, or preserve.Democratic citizens must reach across the digital divide. They must step outside their solipsistic digital bubbles, which give the illusion of privacy and solitude, encourage all manner of asocial behavior, and sunder communal ties. This is not to say we must abandon digital technology. That is hardly possible—never more so than in the age of Covid-19, when we rely on digital media to get anything done. Rather, the digital revolution must be balanced by a return to the public square, where we convene and encounter one another in non-transactional, non-commercial relationships, and see people in their full complexity.Democracy requires that citizens relearn the art of politics, the art of conversing and deliberating with fully rounded peers, who are respected and recognized. This is how we truly see one another in all our nuances; this is where we construct bonds that overcome partisan divides, enable us to live together in peace and security, and preserve and expand freedom.