There were class action lawsuits across the country, which is often the response to data breaches -- lawyers also sued Facebook and Uber this year -- but lawmakers still felt that the companies involved weren't being held accountable for mishandling data on millions of people.
Sen. Ron Wyden, a Democrat from Oregon, wants to change that with the proposed Consumer Data Protection Act.
The lawmaker, who has been at the forefront of cybersecurity and privacy issues in the Senate, introduced a draft data privacy bill on Thursday, with harsh penalties for companies that violate your privacy. The bill would apply to companies that bring in more than $50 million in revenue and have personal information on more than 1 million people.
"Today's economy is a giant vacuum for your personal information," Wyden said in a statement. "Everything you read, everywhere you go, everything you buy and everyone you talk to is sucked up in a corporation's database. But individual Americans know far too little about how their data is collected, how it's used and how it's shared."
The draft recommends boosting the ability of the Federal Trade Commission to take action on privacy violations. Right now, the FTC can only fine tech companies if they agree to a consent decree, as Facebook did in 2011.
The bill would also require companies to submit an annual data protection report, similar to how companies like Google and Apple voluntarily release transparency reports on government demands. The report would need to be signed by CEOs, who could face up to 20 years in prison if they lie to the FTC.
Wyden's draft bill also introduces a national "Do No Track" website, which would create a central page allowing Americans to opt out of data sharing across the internet. As things stand, if you want to opt out of data tracking, you have to do it in your settings on each individual website where you've signed up. In some cases, the only way to opt out is to just not use the website.
The FTC would also be able to issue fines up to 4 percent of the company's annual revenue, which is also the same percentage that the European Union's General Data Protection Regulation uses.
A push for a federal data privacy law has been brewing on Capitol Hill over the last year, fueled by privacy issues like Facebook's problems with Cambridge Analytica. Multiple lawmakers have been working on their own privacy bills, and members of Congress have held hearings with tech giants and tech advocates to work on the legislation.
Silicon Valley has taken notice. Apple CEO Tim Cook has called for a federal data privacy law, arguing that privacy is a "fundamental human right." Google, Facebook and Amazon have also said they support a federal data privacy law, though there's a major difference in what tech companies want and what privacy advocates want.
Through trade organizations like the Internet Association, tech companies have called for pre-empting state laws, which would mean that strict laws like California's Consumer Protection Act would be overruled by a federal bill.
Advocates warn that this stipulation makes it difficult for states to catch up with new data privacy issues, warning that technology advances much faster than the law does.
From executive producers Tom Hanks, Gary Goetzman, and Mark Herzog, in association with HBO, The CNN Original Series “The Nineties” explores the decade that gave us the Internet, DVDs, and other cultural and political milestones.
It was 1977. Writer Nabaneeta Dev Sen had just attended a women’s literary conference in Jorhat and braved a rain-battered elephant safari in Kaziranga, when a chance conversation made her change her plans. She had her heart set on visiting a place where women were discouraged from visiting alone. “No one goes out of choice,” said one, “Nothing to see except Tibetan yaks and Buddhist monks.” Another added: “All by yourself, among hill tribals and the military… You’re being far too impulsive.” But for Nabaneeta, Tawang was home to India’s biggest monastery, and it was also where the Chinese entered India over the McMahon Line. A difficult journey, no doubt: “Not too many people make it that far,” she admitted. And yet, against all odds, Nabaneeta gathered together winter clothes, found a reluctant companion in the medical officer of Tawang, and clambered into the driver’s cabin of a clattering ration truck headed northwest. Her gutsy adventures offer up laughter and insight in On a Truck Alone to McMahon, her memoir whose English translation by Arunava Sinha has just hit the stands. Read on for an excerpt in which the doctor, a bachelor, is most perplexed when they are forced to find accommodation at midnight in the middle of nowhere. #Awkward
The doctor was striding back towards us. I went forward. As soon as he saw me he did an about turn and started walking towards the bungalow. So did I. I had no choice. I would have to get myself a room in the bungalow, after all. The doctor stopped eventually, and then turned to me and began to talk. This was the first time he was addressing me without being prompted.
‘She’s saying he’s there, why shouldn’t we find him? Isn’t he supposed to be on duty at the bungalow? Let’s fetch him.’
The doctor seemed far too soft-natured and gentle. He walked around in embarrassed circles outside the hotel.
A man appeared in a minute. Complete with a salute. When he had taken a good look at us, he said, ‘Oh, it’s Dagdaar Sahib.’
‘Call the MLA? But memsahib, he fell asleep long ago. How can I wake him up? The drawing room will be better…’
The room wasn’t very large, but not small either. On the bigger side, in fact. Half of it was in use as a living room; the other half had a huge dining table with several chairs arranged around it. The living area had wicker chairs and a sofa. It was impossible to sleep on that sofa. Two seats, sunken like draw-wells. Suddenly an evil idea popped up in my head.
There were a few cots laid out outside the hotel. Several drunkards were sitting on them, drinking. They seemed to have eaten there too, as the bowls lying around suggested. I
The drunkards leapt to their feet and deposited the bowls inside. Three of them and the chowkidar proceeded to take one of the cots to the IB. Leading the way solemnly, I helped them place the cot in the drawing room. I hadn’t expected it to be so easy. Doctor Beanpole was surveying the transfer operations from a distance. The drunkards went back to the hotel. They didn’t care for tips, they were a free race. The chowkidar said, ‘Can I make your bed, Memsahib?’ I was astonished. Was I going to get a bed made for me too? Gravely I replied, ‘Yes. Double blanket, double sheets, double pillows. Do you have a mattress?’
Handing him a five rupee note, I said, ‘Bahut shukriya. Thank you. Now can you get me a cup of tea? And put a lantern in the room.’
‘So what? You became a doctor three years ago, and I became one thirteen years ago. I’m old enough to be your father.’
‘I’m a doctor too, but not a medical one. Still, no harm addressing me as Dr Sen. Now get your bedding. There’s nothing to fear. I have two grown-up daughters like you.’ (One was thirteen then, and the other, nine.)
‘Of course not, who’s afraid?’ The doctor brought his bedding and deposited it on the table. But he didn’t lay it out. He kept sitting. The chowkidar said, ‘I’m lighting the stove. Who wants tea?’
The chowkidar arranged for a bathroom too when I asked. One of the bathrooms being used by the MLA’s party could also be entered from the corridor. The chowkidar opened it for me, and put a light inside. No problem.
I slipped out for a walk while the tea was being made. The sound of the waterfall rang in my ears, in my heart. There was bright moonlight. The road was deserted. Not a soul anywhere.
The trees stood still against the mountain, taking in the moon’s caresses. I walked along the stream, following the sound of the waterfall. The air was redolent with the fragrance of wild flowers. Of course, the moonlight had turned all of them white. The mountain stream was flowing far below. The sound was even farther away. Strange insects swarmed on the leaves, emitting a variety of sounds. Even the noise from the hotel had faded—there was just the sound of the waterfall, and the buzzing of insects. It was all so wonderfully serene. I was really enjoying my walk, as well as the echoes of my footsteps. Walking around a curve in the road, I paused for a minute at the edge, bending over for a glimpse of the stream.
And then… my heart leapt into my mouth, my limbs froze in fear. I was no longer walking—how could my footsteps still be echoing then? Was it a ghost? Another wave of fear hit me the very next moment. Why should it be a ghost? It must be someone else. Someone else. Someone else. Here on this desolate mountain, at 12.30 in the morning by the stream—someone was coughing. There it was! A distinct cough.
‘Who walks out like this at this hour in this deserted area? What a dangerous lady! Come to IB, there’s a bathroom there.’
‘No particular reason. I came for a walk. To find out where the sound of the waterfall was coming from. Is the tea ready?’
‘Who knows whether the tea is ready? I’ve been following you from a distance, not knowing the purpose of your walk. The sound of the waterfall! It’s two miles away. You are certainly a crazy lady! My god!’
I had never seen or heard the words crazy and lady next to each other. They were very well suited. Crazy lady. Of course, Mrs Gandhi could also have been described that way a year ago, during the Emergency, but not me. I was not crazy, and definitely not a lady.
‘Where was the time to put a sweater on? When you went off by yourself so late at night … I was so worried that I immediately… Atishoo!’
‘So embarrassing! Here, my shawl’s a long one, wrap half of it around yourself. I can’t give it to you entirely though, I can’t afford to catch a cold myself.’
‘Of course not, how can I use your shawl? Let’s run on our way back instead—you won’t be cold then.’ Running back all the way to the IB, we discovered that the chowkidar had covered our cups of tea with lids and left. Near the head of the cot stood a lantern. He materialized again as we were drinking our tea.
‘Your truck will leave at five in the morning. The driver’s asked me to wake you up in time. Should I?’
‘In a minute.’ The legs kept swinging. All sorts of shadows cast by the lantern trembled on the wall. Lengthening, shortening. The waterfall could be heard outside. The buzzing of wild insects. In the room, a sleepless young man.
Blast! He was making me very uncomfortable. I sat up. My eyes were drawn to the ceiling. And suddenly I saw… what’s that? A curtain wire ran across the ceiling to separate the room into two halves. Not a wire, but a rod. A heavy curtain hung along one wall. I hadn’t realized in my excitement all this while that there was an arrangement to split the room into a drawing room and a dining room. Perfect. We could have separate waiting rooms for ladies and gents now. I had always been fond of games. You exist, god! You have ensured that Lalwani’s chastity won’t be harmed tonight. Glory to you!
I’d heard that this used to be the practice in Japan in older days. Paper curtains would be drawn to split rooms. They became walls.
Such innocent delight on the doctor’s part on spotting the curtains. Leaping to the floor, he split the room into two in an instant, making himself invisible. But so what—he could still be seen knee downwards, all the way to his socks and shoes, beneath the curtain. Daddy Long Legs was probably laying out his bedding. Despite the drawn curtains all kinds of ghostly shadows danced on the wall. I turned the flame of the lantern on the floor even lower. The dance on the wall was reduced at once. Now for sleep.
‘Good night, Doctor. Tuck yourself in now.’ But when I looked in his direction, no, he wasn’t in bed yet. There he was, perched on the table once more. Behind the purdah his boots
There was no bed, a bed appeared. There was no privacy, and now there was privacy as well. And still he wasn’t satisfied. What more did he want? Was he not going to be at peace till I left the room? But that wasn’t going to happen. I was angry now.
‘What? No, no, no… what’s all this, what on earth are you saying. Really. You are a crazy lady. Truly, dear god. The things you say. Oh….’
All I said was ‘Don’t worry, Doctor, please relax. I promise you complete moral and physical safety….’
[Kindly go to sleep, my boy, or else I’m the one who’s going to start feeling afraid. He isn’t mad, is he? My heart is infected with the fear of spending the night in the same room as a madman. Why is he so embarrassed? This isn’t a bedroom for a newlywed couple, after all. My eyes are drooping with sleep. Que sera sera. Glory be. Good night, Daddy Long Legs.]
Excerpted with permission from On a Truck Alone to McMahon, Nabaneeta Dev Sen, translated by Arunava Sinha, Oxford University Press.
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