Suppose I was to tell you that the Police broke my door down the other day. They hauled me out of my bed and demanded to know if I was familiar with a man called Stephen Moon. I thought about it. Yes, that name sounded familiar. I thought about it some more, and realised that they were talking about a young man I was at school with. My memory was a little hazy because I hadn't seem him since then. We were in Grammar School for seven years together and he was in several of my classes. However, since I left school I haven't clapped eyes on him, which means, in plain speech, that I haven't seen him since 1968. In round figures, that's 40 years.



I've picked this example because - to me - it's all very simple. I knew the man, then, but I don't know what happened to him after school. He might have gone to University, might have got married, might have enjoyed a glittering career. I don't know, I haven't had any contact with him. The problem, from the Police point of view, is that all I'm telling you is 'my story'. It's my version of events. They have no idea whether I'm telling the truth. Nor do you. If I was now to add to this little vignette the information that Stephen Moon was arrested last week for robbing banks in order to fund an extremist religious group, you'd start to get worried. Hey, this fellah sounds dangerous, you'd think. It's a good job he was caught, and yes, we need to know all his 'associates'. Like, let's look on his computer and see who he's been in touch with recently. Let's see who he's been emailing, for instance. But not just that. The problem is - from my point of view - that if the said Mr Moon happened to belong to a social networking site like FaceBook, then he might have entered the name of the school he went to. If the Police then list all the people who have also been to that school, then my name would come up. See? There's an 'association'! It matters not a jot that I haven't seen, spoken to, written, or met up with the man since 1968, there's still a tenuous 'link' and, if he's guilty, there could be a suspicion, no matter how slight, that I am too, even if only slightly.

So, what seemed like a simple problem suddenly turns ugly, and the reason for that, of course, is the wildly blossoming paranoia which now lurks in the world for anyone who is or could be connected to the key words 'terrorist' or 'extremist'. In our desire, legitimate as it may be, to protect ourselves from such people, we have allowed the forces of Law and Order to delve into any record, database or computer filing system, if they feel it might enable them to find more 'bad guys'. That's great. I don't mind that. My only worry is how easy it now is for someone to decide that I'm a 'bad guy' too. Why? From something I've done? No, from the fact that in our computerised world, it is all too easy to find links between practically everybody. The next time you see a photo of an arrested criminal in the newspaper or on the TV, look closely and ask yourself: 'Have I ever met that guy?' In our fast-moving world, it's becoming increasingly likely that you might have studied with him, worked with him, or lived nearby. Which means, dear reader, that if he's guilty, and you have an 'association' with the miscreant, someone is even now considering whether it's worth their while to come knocking at your door and start asking you questions.

Unlikely? Not if you own a computer. Computers are constantly changing and developing, and by this time next week there will some new wizard thing that they are capable of doing that they couldn't do now. But one thing they can do, and something that has mostly been omitted from even the most detailed spec, is that they can remember everything. Yes, every damn little thing that you did, or typed, or looked up on the internet. Or even thought about. Well, we're pretty trusting, aren't we, and when we saw the button that said 'Delete' we really believed it. We thought it meant what it said. It doesn't. What it really means is, 'I'm going to put this little thing out of your sight, and you may well forget about it, but actually, it's still there, deep down in the filing, and anyone with a computer degree will be able to find it, if they want to'. So, if you've ever made the mistake of looking at a porn site - even if it's something you didn't repeat, and feel really embarrassed about - rest assured of one thing: you may have forgotten the details but the computer hasn't. If you wondered what these terrorist groups are all about, if you wanted to know more about what they believe, and looked it up, then it's still there on your machine. Now, how is the questioning going to go? You might say, 'Sure, I wanted to look at the crazy website and see what all the fuss was about'. But, you add, you didn't believe a word of it, and deleted all references. You rubbed it out, right, and erased it from your memory? Maybe you did, in your head, but your laptop has still got it, every tap on the keyboard, recorded. Worse, for you, if you chose to use Google to go searching, then bad luck, because they will have recorded it too. Who knows, they might have alerted the agencies already, if they didn't like the look of what you were doing.

Ah, well, remember 1968? Back then there was a strange fat guy in China called Mao something-or-other. He had written a Little Red Book, and all his people were told to have a copy. I went into my local bookshop and bought one, just because I was curious. Hmm, that was then. I wouldn't dare do that these days. It would immediately flag me up as a dangerous radical, and I'd be listed somewhere as someone to keep an eye on. I'd be suspicious. Why? Did it work? Did I read Mao's book and turn commie? No. I can't remember a word of it, and I don't think I ever finished reading the thing. It was long, it was impenetrable, and it was boring. Here's my advice: whatever you do, don't look it up on the internet now. If you do, they'll remember your details. Maybe you'll get a visit.