You’ll have seen this word flying about recently and it’s time for some explanations.

Err… don’t you mean ‘publically’? [’publicly’ if you’re American]

No. Well, in some ways, yes, I do. Let me explain.

In the past, there has been an assumption that privacy was the default state of human existence. It was only when you, someone or something else acted on that state that your privacy was broken. You did something ‘in public’, ‘went public’ or ‘published’. But if that was ever really the case — I’d argue that it’s partly a symptom of late C20th urban living — then it most certainly not true at this point in the early 21st Century. There’s a database entry just a few seconds after your birth that stays attached to you for the rest of your life. Everyone has got information on you — lots of it — from the government to the police to the supermarkets you use. And they’ll probably lose it or allow it to be stolen at some point.

Things get even worse when it comes to the Internet: your ISP is monitoring your data stream; Facebook is keeping your teenage indiscretions alive forever; Google is retaining your search history. Our brave new world of mobile applications sometimes seems particularly geared to recording (and judging!) your location to within a few yards using GPS.

So one part of the meaning of publicy is this status of not having privacy, for which historically we haven’t had a single word, so strong is the assumption that privacy is the natural state of affairs.

People aren’t entirely happy about this being the case, of course. And that draws in the second part of the meaning of the word. But first, some background…

We have strong personal, social, professional and political reasons for having an attachment to secrets and lies. While we’re told that we have nothing to fear from lack of privacy; unless we’ve done something wrong, in which case we deserve what we get. That’s not really true. In fact, it’s not true at all.

Secrets and Lies

Most religions and philosophies suggest that ‘telling the truth’ is a moral necessity. But this isn’t entirely the case. Secrets and lies are arguably essential to our psychological well-being. Certainly, they’re essential to everyone getting along without a fight every two seconds. By some accounts, we lie 200 times a day just to keep the peace.

Personal lies: ‘No, of course you’re not fat’; ‘No, it’s great that your mother is coming to stay’.

Social lies: ‘How am I feeling? Really good thanks’, ‘Oh yes, how is [child-name]? Do you have any more pictures?’

Professional lies: ‘great work, Bob’; ‘it’s been a pleasure doing business with you’; ‘we have the utmost respect for [competitor company]’.

Political lies: ‘We will cut taxes and maintain quality of public services’.

Secrets – probably best not to tell your mum that you take drugs, your wife that you fancy one of your colleagues; your boss that he stinks; your wartime allies that you think they are crass vulgarians. The place of secrets in our lives is more difficult to describe than the necessity of lying, but rather than dredge the literature right now, I think we’ll agree to agree (won’t we?) that we all have secrets and that their remaining secret is important to us.

The other difficulty is that this rise in public information has happened a lot more quickly that our society’s ability to come to terms with the consequences of that. We’re not especially good at forgiving and forgetting, for example, preferring instead to remember forever and condemn you for that one stupid thing you did five years ago.

So… Publicy?

Ah yes. The other part of the meaning of the word is very much akin to ‘publicity’. You see, there are two common tactics to coping with the loss of privacy:

Disinformation. Some 50% of teenagers post false information about themselves onto the Net. It’s been observed that if you look at the registration data, 10% of MySpace users are aged over 100, which seems rather unlikely, unless you factor in that you’re not supposed to register unless you’re 14 or over. [see the video below for more on this and other stats I cite]. Apparently, everyone lies on dating sites (men say they’re more successful; women that they’re younger and slimmer). If you counter the number of true facts about you that exist on record with a similar number of complete lies then the reliability of all the data is seriously compromised.

Curation. We make sure that the information that appears is, to the best of our ability, sanitised, presenting our ‘best side’. We untag drunken pictures of ourselves on Facebook; we don’t check in to FourSquare when we’re in McDonald’s and do when we’re in the Ritz; we remove ‘dodgy’ music from our Last.fm profiles. We use pseudonyms when we’re on networks that don’t reflect what we want to be part of our professional reputation. If someone or something is producing information about you, then you make sure to produce more, better quality information.

From the Economist’s report this week on Social Networks:

Research published last year by Pew showed that some 60% of adults are restricting access to their online profiles. In an earlier study the institute had found that, contrary to received opinion, many teenagers and young adults are also using privacy controls to restrict access to online information about them. Nicole Ellison, a professor at Michigan State University who studies social networks, says that over the past few years she has noticed that her students have become steadily more cautious about whom they share information with.

This corruption or correction of the information available about ourselves is the other side of the idea of ‘publicy’. Publicy isn’t the opposite or the death of privacy: it is the way we live when it is less available.

These ideas aren’t yours, are they?

No, ‘course not. To my knowledge, the word was coined by Laurent Haug, who founded the Lift conference among other achievements. Stowe Boyd wrote about this being the decade of publicy last month, with some great examples of the way different cultures accept certain pieces of information as ‘naturally to be disclosed’ or private. PR-man Brian Solis wrote about it last week, together with some fascinating data-points (taken from this study) about people’s attitudes to social networks that I’m still digesting. e.g.:

How do you pronounce it?

I don’t know: it’s that new. It’s either ‘publicky’ or [more likely] ‘publissy’. I quite like this ambiguity because it reinforces the dual meaning of ‘living in public’ and ‘generating publicity’. I also like that while it’s an utterly ugly word, this ugliness communicates its modernity rather well.

Anything else to say?

Maybe. Disinformation and curation both seem like coping mechanisms, both of which have drawbacks. Disinformation leaves a trail of lies and half-truths that might make a person seem like some sort of Walter Mitty fantasist when subjected to scrutiny. Curation requires time, judgement and skill — while it’s well-suited to a seasoned PR professional, it’s perhaps less so to those vulnerable people who will suffer most from complete disclosure.

Elements of society move at different speeds, as I’ve already remarked. Until we’re able to guarantee an internet Statute of Limitations on how long being an idiot lasts and under what circumstances it counts, then there will be a disconnect between the abilities of technology to record us and the abilities of the people we deal with to cope with that data. My belief is that it takes several decades — maybe two generations — for this sort of change. Until then, we’ll have to suck it down.

I don’t make any judgement on the fact that we now live publicy and not privately. That’s like railing against the incoming tide.

And this video?

It’s Genevieve Bell, an anthropologist working for Intel, talking about secrets and lies on the Internet at the 2008 Lift conference. I’ve cited it before, but it’s well worth a second look. Don’t forget to leave a comment, though.