Privacy in the digital age: A human right under threat

The most expensive thing you own is not your phone, your car or that last-minute flight you regret booking. It is your privacy.

Every day, our thoughts, habits and emotions are converted into data. Late-night searches, scrolling patterns, how long we pause on an image — all are captured, analysed and sold. This happens quietly and constantly. And most of the time, we consent without fully understanding what we are giving up.

Privacy is the right to keep parts of one’s life to oneself. Yet before you began reading this article, your phone likely logged your location, your browser recorded your activity and multiple advertising networks registered your presence. What you read, watch and listen to is routinely shared with third-party companies you will never interact with directly. There is no notification, no meaningful choice — only the illusion of control through cookie banners and “accept all” buttons.

These clicks are treated as consent. But this is not informed consent; it is coerced participation. Access to modern life increasingly depends on agreeing to constant data extraction. In doing so, we surrender fragments of our identity — our fears, preferences and vulnerabilities — in exchange for convenience.

Social media platforms present themselves as free services, but they are funded by advertising models that trade in influence. If users are not paying with money, they are paying with attention and behavioural data. Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and X compete not just for engagement, but for predictive power: the ability to anticipate what we will think, buy or believe next.

This economic model has a name: surveillance capitalism. It is built on the large-scale harvesting of human experience for profit. Algorithms infer personality traits, emotional states and political tendencies, constructing digital profiles that are used to shape behaviour. The goal is not merely to observe users, but to intervene — to nudge, amplify and steer conduct in ways that maximise engagement and revenue.

Privacy, however, is not merely a personal preference or a lifestyle choice. It is a recognised human right. International law protects the right to privacy under instruments such as the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which prohibit arbitrary or unlawful interference with a person’s private life, family, home or correspondence. These protections apply both online and offline, and they impose obligations on states to prevent abuse — not only by governments themselves, but increasingly by private actors that exercise surveillance power at scale.

For many people, the erosion of privacy happens gradually, framed as choice. But for others, privacy is never an option.

In Gaza, surveillance is not a commercial by-product; it is a tool of domination. Digital monitoring forms part of the infrastructure of occupation. Phones are tracked, communications monitored and social media activity scrutinised. Facial-recognition systems — developed and tested on Palestinians without consent — are used to monitor movement and identify individuals in real time. Entire families can be flagged by opaque systems that operate without due process or accountability.

There is no equivalent of “incognito mode” in Gaza. A phone signal can expose a location. A message can trigger suspicion. Data that elsewhere is used to sell products is, in this context, used to justify arrest, targeting or lethal force.

This is the most extreme expression of stolen privacy: when surveillance becomes a mechanism of control over life and death.

The contrast matters. In the global north, privacy is eroded through convenience and commercial design. In Gaza, it is stripped away through military power. Yet these systems are connected. Technologies developed in commercial settings are often refined and tested in contexts of occupation and conflict, then exported, normalised and redeployed elsewhere.

Privacy is not about hiding wrongdoing. It is a cornerstone of dignity, autonomy and democratic life. Without it, freedom of thought, association and dissent cannot survive.

As surveillance becomes increasingly normalised, privacy risks becoming a luxury — then a privilege — and eventually a right reserved for some and denied to others.

Once lost, it is rarely recovered.

* Sõzarn Barday is a South African lawyer. She writes on human rights, international law, and political developments in the Middle East. The views expressed are her own.