In the mid-nineteen eighties, Andrew Harrison, a philosopher based at the University of Bristol in the UK got very excited about the potential of new technologies. The world wide web had yet to be created, but the idea of 'books on demand' had been proposed and Universities were getting around to the idea that every academic should have a terminal on their desk at work. Academic networks such as JANET in the UK were beginning to mean e-mail was getting used for more than sending messages between data centre managers and the libraries had begun to computerise their catalogues. As usual, Andrew and I were both waiting for some off-prints to arrive by post from the British Library, copies made from a microfiche costing about £1 per page, which we thought was a bargain.

What excited Andrew, as we sat in a pub following a mind numbingly tedious meeting of the Local Labour Party, was the prospect of entering an era when thanks to new technologies, political dialogue and debate could be as dynamic and well-informed as Londoners had been in the seventeenth century. London printers were able to get a pamphlet, or news-sheet into print within the day and political opponents could respond with their ripostes with equal speed and the politicised apprentices, the students and young activists of the time, were able not only to keep up with the news, but to follow the thoughts of opinion-makers and politicians

The Stationers Company had been granted a monopoly for printing books in 1557, when there were 97 stationers in a city of about 250,000 people, with the licence to print particular books granted by the Archibishop of Canterbury, or Bishop of London following the decision of the Court of Star Chamber in 1586. The penalities for unlicenced printing, or the importation of unlicenced books from abroad were severe. Hollar's engraved portrait of William Prynne, whose prosecution became a celebrated case, is accompanied by the following explanatory note:

"Mr. William Prynne, for writing a booke against Stage-players called 'Histriomatrix' was first censured in the Starr-Chamber to loose both his Ears in the pillory, fined £5,000 & perpetual imprisonment in the Tower of London. After this, on mere suspicion of writing other bookes, but nothing at all proved against him, hee was again censured in the Starr Chamber to loose the small remainder of both his ears in the pillory, to be Stigmatised on both his Cheeks with a firey iron, was fined again £5,000 and banished to ye Isle of Jersey, there to suffer perpetual close imprisonment: no friends being permitted to see him, on pain of imprisonment."

A Christian fundamentalist of the Puritan kind, Prynne went to the pillory in 1637 and part of the speech he gave before the punishment reads like this, "If you knew into what times you are cast, it would make you look about you: And if you did but see what changes and revolutions of Laws, Religions and Ceremonies have been made of late by one man, you would more narrowly looke into your priviledges, and see how farre your Liberty did lawfully extend, and so maintain it".

The freedom of the press, like universal suffrage and the abolition of the slave trade were long fought struggles. But press freedom, as developed in the mass media, is something different to freedom of expression, which the era of emails, news groups and blogs may bring about today. But this is also the time of the Patriot Act, Homeland Security, data mining and Guantanomo. Prynne's warning still makes sense. Yesterday, I installed the newest version of the Windows Media Player, which comes with a cookie that will send copyright reports on every cd, video, or piece of music I play. A few hours later I decided to de-install it, a minor gesture to sustain some sense of privacy, until the people at Windows Media Player give me equal access to their records and the records of their clients.

The curse of the 'cookie' and internet security is a double edged problem. Cookies are both spies and useful software tools. Disable them for the sake of privacy and programmes fail to function and online services deny you access. Keeping unwanted intrusions at bay using firewalls and other security measures, also hinders our access to the full potential of the web and the potential to develop the kinds of environment Andrew Harrison anticipated twenty years ago.

As everything becomes networked, it now seems inevitable that anything we do will be noted, whether in secret, or in the public domain. This is no invasion of privacy, the very concept of privacy is evaporating. It is a curious assumption, but we should probably get used to the notion that everything we do, can be seen, heard, or analysed. A 'keyword' trawl of anyone's hard disc and internet-use by a bot is pretty quickly going to create an accurate statistical impression of their tastes and opinions without the need to read what they have written, or to hear what they say. It is to be hoped that the analytical techniques are more sophisticated than the market research that brings us supermarket produce. I suspect many of us would rather be accounted for by what we choose to say, loud and clear, in public and in private, rather than find ourselves defined by the outcome of a data mining operation, rummaging through the rubbish bins. Without privacy, we are, of course, ever more dependent on the prevailing standard of liberty.

If those who want to monitor me are able to do so at will, do I have the same opportunity to know the detail of their lives, whoever they may be? There is an imbalance in this exchange. They are free to read, while I am only free to write. If that is the case, writing becomes an imperative. Perhaps Andrew Harrison would agree. But I don't have access to his emails, or the hard disc on his computer, nor would I want that. I'd really rather listen to what he has to say, read what he has to publish and respond only having had the chance to think about a reply. We should be wary of mined data based on junk and everything that is generated from it. Considered opinions are what I value and how I hope others can value each other.

ps: If anyone, particularly from a well organised intelligence organisation, would like to rummage through my old hard discs and the paper based detritus of my life, you are welcome to do so. Please get in touch directly, there is plenty of filing to be done as a favour in return.

*inscription on the title page of Pauline Gregg's biography of John Lilburne, 'Free-Born John' Harrap, London, 1961.