Edward SnowdenOvjeren akaunt

I wouldn't use WiFi at home, because global maps of every wireless access point's unique ID—including yours—are free and constantly updated. I would use ethernet; yes, ethernet on a phone. I would deny network permissions to any app that doesn't need it using an app firewall.

I would use an ad blocker. I would use a password manager. I would block third-party cookies in the browser. These last three are steps that absolutely everyone should consider, because they're simple, cost little or nothing, and protect you while making your phone faster.

I'd disable javascript, tracking, and fingerprinting in the browser, and even then I'd avoid the browser unless I had no choice. Better to browse on a laptop (w/ @QubesOS) which does not have a history of everywhere I've been, since it lacks GPS & Wifi, and has @Whonix built-in.

I would not (and do not) use email, except as throwaways for registration. Email is a fundamentally insecure protocol that, in 2019, can and should be abandoned for the purposes of any meaningful communication. Email is unsafe. I'd use @Signalapp or @Wire as a safer alternative.

This is only a partial list, but I'll stop here. Even with all of these precautions, I still wouldn't consider a smartphone "safe," merely "safer." The technologies underpinning our most basic systems of communication are insecure, and often insecure *by design*.

My point is not that you should use a smartphone like me, but that you *shouldn't have to*. Privacy should not be a privilege, but because the legal system is broken, the average person today stands, at every stage of life, naked before the eyes of corporations and governments.

This system of predation has survived for so long because it occurs under the illusion of consent, but you were never asked your opinion in a way that could change the outcome. On the most consequential redistribution of power in modern life, you were never granted a vote.

The lie is that everything happening today is okay because ten years ago, you clicked a button that said "I agree." But you didn't agree to the 600 page contract: none of us read it. You were agreeing you needed a job; agreeing you needed directions, email, or even just a friend.

It wasn't a choice, but the illusion of it. The consent you granted was never meaningful, because you never had an alternative. You clicked the button, or you lost the job. You clicked the button, or you were left behind. And the consequences were hidden for ten years.