Digital ID cards – some of the issues…

Since Keir Starmer announced the forthcoming introduction of mandatory ‘Digital ID’, the so-called ‘Brit Card’, there has been a lot of discussion and debate – some of it political, some technical or technological, some on civil liberties, some practical – and some quite heated. Some, too, has been either ignorant or dismissive – comments such as ‘the British are mad, everyone else in Europe is fine about ID cards’ are neither helpful nor understand what it is that the Brits worry about. Because the Brits do worry about ID cards, as the more than petition against the scheme gaining more then 2 million signatures in a matter of days has shown.

This is a more complex issue than it first seems. It is neither true that this is a guaranteed route to an authoritarian nightmare – a ‘papers please’ society – nor that it is a storm in a very British teacup, another piece of stupid British exceptionalism that we should forget about. Rather, there are a whole series of issues that really do deserve careful thought. This post attempts to set out some of these – to explain why people are worried, whether those worries are justified, and what possible solutions to those worries might be. This is just a starting point, however: there a many more points that a blog post cannot really hope to cover.

What is ID for?

The first question to ask is what you want ID for. For most people, in most aspects of their lives, there’s very little need for ID. You can go about your daily business without anyone needing to check your ID or who you are. You don’t need to prove your identity work – your employers know who you are – you don’t need to prove it to do things like shopping, eating at restaurants, going to movies or sports matches. You might need to prove some particular attribute – that you’re over 18, that you have a ticket, that you have the means to pay for something – but not your identity. The two are qualitatively different, and can be treated differently. It may be more convenient to have one card/device/other tool that does several of these functions, and that even contains some identifying information about you, but it’s not necessary in most cases. If I use my Apple Watch to pay for something, a connection is made from my watch to something confirming my bank details, but no-one else in the process needs to know. The shop doesn’t need to know, the shop assistant doesn’t need to know and so forth.

The same is true of many of the situations people think as needing ID – it isn’t really ID that’s needed, and it isn’t really the person who’s asking for the ID who needs it. A well designed ID system recognises this, and only asks for the information necessary in a particular situation. A well designed ID law would also recognise this, and only require the disclosure of ID when it is really necessary – not when it might be convenient or it might possibly help later.

How can ID be used?

There are two different ways that ID can be used. One is assertion. You can use a verified ID to assert your rights. ‘This is me’, confirming your right to do something. That is an active process, and one that is in the hands of the person asserting their identity. This is one of the best uses for an ID card, and when people say ‘they have them in Europe, and it’s really useful,’ this is generally what they mean. You can use this to cut through bureaucracy, to simplify processes like opening bank accounts or getting a job. This is also not the kind of use that worries people concerned about civil liberties.

The second use, the one that does concern people who care about civil liberties, is demand. That is, to be required to carry ID in case someone in authority demands it of you. This is the ‘papers please’ society that people fear, the idea that a police officer might stop you without any real reason and demand to see your ID card. The idea that ID cards should be mandatory fits with this concern – if it can’t be demanded of you, why would it be mandatory? And if it is mandatory, at some point it will be demanded of you.

It is easy in the current climate to think of ways this could be used politically and badly. Could Border Force demand it of people when they’re doing a raid? If so, who would they be checking? It is hard to imagine that checking would not be racially or religiously biased – who would be suspected of being an illegal immigrant? Alternatively, given the increasingly heavy handed policing of protest, could it be used to try to deter people from being involved in protests, whether political or environmental?

Immigration enforcement?

The stated use case for the system – at least in speeches – is immigration enforcement. Specifically, to make it harder for immigrants to work illegally. The idea is that people (all people, not just immigrants) have to show the new digital ID when they are hired. This will, according to Starmer, make it harder for immigrants who are not entitled to get hired. There are a number of problems with this.

  1. There are already checks like this – the right to work check – which scrupulous employers use, and which make it both difficult and unlikely that those who are not entitled to work will be hired. With this, passports and visas which show this entitlement are checked – and the system essentially works.
  2. The consequence of this is that those who do employ people who are not entitled to work are not, and will not be, scrupulous and law-abiding employers. Those unscrupulous employers are unlikely to change because of digital ID.
  3. What would really address this would be cracking down on unscrupulous employers – which is, at least to an extent, already happening, but could go further. This, however, would have nothing to do with the digital ID, and would not be made easier by the digital ID.

This makes the case for a massive new project difficult to sustain – if it is really the reason for bringing in digital ID. When all the other concerns are brought into play, it makes even less sense – and there are many other concerns to be considered.

Cards or databases?

The first of these concerns is the way that databases come in. The idea of digital ID is that it can link to various government databases, either existing databases or newly created ones for the digital ID. There will, presumably, be a database of the digital IDs themselves, to check whether a digital ID is authentic to start with. This would have to include sufficient biometric data to allow some kind of checking that the digital ID belongs to the physical individual who is claiming that it is theirs – facial recognition data, fingerprint data, or something along those lines – as well as citizenship or residency information.

The ID would then need to link to databases about immigration status, for example, and not just to the right to work – the information needed for the employment check that is the purported reason for introducing the digital ID, but also potentially to things like the right to use the NHS, or to entitlement to benefits. Then, again presumably, there are the other key government databases that could be linked to, such as those held by the DVLA, by HMRC or by the DWP. It would be logical to link to these, and this could increase the convenience and usefulness of the digital ID for people (in the assertion role of ID) as well as for the government.

From there, links could be made to more data – for example data held by the police or others about membership of various organisations, or information about activities. For example, if a protest is happening in the area, and the police want to stop people congregating, they could ask for ID then check directly whether this is someone known to be a member of a protest group, or to have previously been on protests – as a tool to try to head off protests, this could be effective. On the other hand, it could also be seen as distinctly authoritarian, raising more of the civil liberties concerns.

Of course if this information is already there, it can be reached by other means – and already is, for example through live facial recognition of protestors – so this is another tool rather than a unique one, but the existence of digital ID systems can make things more convenient for the authorities, as well as more convenient for the citizen. That has implications that need to be taken into account. Making things easier for authorities can mean enabling authoritarianism – it does not have to, but when systems are set up sufficient protections need to be built in to prevent it, and the rights of people need to be protected in law as well as in practice. This means oversight of systems, and rights to complain and to obtain redress.

What needs to be understood above all is that all data is vulnerable – and databases like these are particularly vulnerable, honeypots of data that can be exploited in all kinds of ways. Creating new data, and making links between databases, creates new vulnerabilities. There is a good reason that data protection has as one of its principles data minimisation. The BritCard appears to do the opposite of that: creating vulnerabilities and insecurities.

Function creep

Another major concern about systems like this is function creep, sometimes called mission creep. That is, a system may be designed and authorised for one use, but then later gets used for something above and beyond the original idea. This is not just something from conspiracy theories – though conspiracy theorists do generally believe in it – but from experience both of laws and of surveillance systems. The Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act 2000, for example, was brought in ostensibly to deal with terrorism and serious crime, but ended up being used to deal with dog fouling and to allow councils to monitor whether children really did live in catchment areas for particular schools – and these are just some of the examples. Similarly, the ANPR cameras installed to monitor London’s Congestion Charge can now be used for criminal investigations and prosecutions. That might well be appropriate and efficient, but it was not what the cameras were designed or authorised for.

In practice, function creep may well be inevitable – ideas of how to use systems may simply not have been conceived, or even have been possible, when systems were devised and when the laws enabling them were passed. It is a mistake to assume that they are the result of a conspiracy, of dishonesty by those behind the schemes – but it is also incumbent on those considering schemes to think about where function creep might occur, and to either put in place protections against that function creep or be more open about what the possibilities are when the systems are authorised. Here, for example, if the real uses of digital ID are likely to be more than just the checking of people when hiring them for work, the government should be up front about that.

Costs, complications and practicalities

The next set of concerns are in many ways practical. This kind of a project is an immense undertaking – this is digital ID, and that means a massive government IT project. Who will actually do this project? It seems highly unlikely that it would be done ‘in house’ by the UK government, and that means using private companies to do the work. The question of which companies is huge one. Will it be U.S. companies, such as the somewhat notorious Palantir? That would and should raise huge alarm bells, particularly given the current state of politics in the U.S.. Would our data be secure in the hands of a company whose founder and chairman thinks regulation of AI will hasten the arrival of the Antichrist? (this is not a joke, but real). Can we trust these companies to do this work to the benefit of the people of the UK?

This is the kind of thing that can be protected against. In Switzerland, for example, where an optional form of electronic ID was recently voted for in a referendum, it was decided that the work needed to be done in house, for exactly these reasons. The UK could do this – or at the very least, it could place strict rules about who can and cannot bid for the project, and avoid the natural and appropriate worries about some of the potential bidders. Palantir, at the very least, should be excluded. Then there is the possibility of the work being farmed out to people with family or other connections to ministers – this kind of cronyism (well, in reality corruption) is very familiar in the UK, particular during the COVID pandemic. Who is going to get the work, and hence the money, for this project? Will it be done transparently and fairly? There is also the question – one that needs to be considered every time a technological project is proposed – of whether a technological ‘solution’ is being oversold by its proponents. Selling shiny solutions to desperate governments has been very lucrative for many decades, regardless of whether the solutions actually solve anything. It needs to be guarded against from the start.

Then there is the question of cost. This kind of a project will be very expensive, and given the experience of large government IT projects is likely to be far more expensive than any initial estimates. Given that, we need to be very clear about the benefits from the project from the outset, before committing so much to it. Whether it is the various failed NHS IT projects over the last few decades or even HS2, government projects do tend to end up much more costly than expected. It would be very optimistic to expect anything different here, particularly as this is something new, not like any other related project.

The consequences of errors

There are two kinds of concerns about this kind of project: problems that arise intentionally, as part of the design of the system, or inherent in the system, and problems that arise through errors. The Post Office Horizon IT scandal should give everyone food for thought here. What happens when ID information is wrong? People can fail to get jobs, at the very least, or they could end up being imprisoned or deported inappropriately – because (again, presumably) employers will be expected to report people attempting to get jobs illegally. This is not a joke – though ‘Computer Says No’ seems funny, the computer saying no in this kind of case can be significant. Moreover, what a computer says is treated as gospel – it can be taken as unquestionably right, as we saw in the Horizon IT scandal to devastating effect – and proving that it is wrong can be nigh-on impossible. We have also seen the experience across the Atlantic of what over-enthusiastic enforcement of immigration rules can result in, whether or not the information used to enforce is real.

Digital and other exclusion?

One of the other concerns about digital ID is the way it could exclude certain groups. As presented, this would be an app-based system, presumably for Apple and Android phones – so anyone who either doesn’t have or struggles with those phones will either be unable to use this system or be disadvantaged through it. That disadvantage would be particularly important in the assertion role of ID: if we think this digital ID is going to make people’s lives more convenient, that won’t be so for those who can’t use it, increasing already existing digital exclusion or digital disadvantage.

If the system is mandatory, and there are people who can’t use the Smartphone/App system, then an alternative has to be provided – perhaps an actual ID card, in physical form – and an alternative infrastructure has to be provided. Again, this is likely to cause disadvantage and might well be challengeable (the devil will be in the detail) and certainly will make the whole thing more costly and complex, and provide more opportunities for errors, as well as more possibilities for subverting or bypassing controls.

Then there is the question of people who can’t afford Smartphones, or use alternative systems to the mainstream Apple or Android, or whose phones are outdated and can’t use the app. What will the government do for them? Will they provide smartphones for those who can’t afford them, then update them as they become obsolete? There were related issues for the Covid tracking apps – issues that contributed to their failure. Technology is not as simple as politicians often think – as Matt Hancock found to his cost, when he had to humiliatingly climb down over his initial plans for a tracking app.

But it works in Europe

This is one of the most regular claims, but it misses the point. ID cards do work in Europe, but in ways that this government is not talking about. It works as a de-facto travel document between EU states. It can be used as an assertive tool for dealing with bureaucracy. Nowhere other than Estonia is it used as a digital ID, and in Estonia this is not for immigration enforcement or anything similar, but a tool of government efficiency and access: Estonia has the most digital government in Europe. Further, there is no evidence that ID cards lower the rates of ‘illegal’ working – the ‘shadow economies’ in countries with ID cards are just as big (or bigger) than ours.

Moreover, these European countries have strong constitutional protections for privacy – we do not. Our main protection comes through the European Convention on Human Rights, which opposition parties are planning to leave, and even the Labour government is considering either leaving or weakening the rights, particularly the Article 8 right to a private life which is the key here. Our other protection comes from data protection law, and since Brexit we have looked to diverge from the GDPR and weaken privacy protections in terms of data. The European model is not one we can use as a positive comparison to suggest that ID cards are a good idea – if the UK government were putting forward a European-style ID card with European-style protections, it might be. They’re not.

Conclusions

This is not a simple idea, nor a simple issue. There are positive possibilities for digital ID – as an assertive tool it could be great – but it is highly unlikely to have anything more than a peripheral effect on the issue the government is touting it for. That needs to be changed. They need to understand what it could actually work for, and be honest and clear about it. They should know what the concerns of people are, and do what they can to assuage them. Steer clear of the likes of Palantir. Give the idea time to settle down, and be clear of what the pitfalls are likely to be.

As it is, this looks poorly planned, flimsily justified, and impractical. I would like to have a positive case made for digital ID. This is not it.

Digital ID cards, and why we should be nervous…

Pretty much the moment Keir Starmer became Prime Minister, his esteemed predecessor Tony Blair wheeled out, yet again, a call for Digital ID. It’s a bit of a pattern: whenever something happens (generally something bad) that has even a peripheral connection to ID, Blair, his foundation or one of his acolytes will come out with the suggestion that digital ID will solve the problem. It seems to be an idée fixe: a panacea that will ‘solve’ terrorism, immigration, policing, housing etc, all at the stroke of a digital pen.

In this case, Blair was talking about immigration – somehow issuing a digital ID card to immigrants, particularly those arriving by small boats, will mean we have ‘control’ over them. We’ll be able to monitor them, know where they are, recall them when needed, and thus get to grips with the apparently overwhelming problem we have with immigration.

It won’t, of course, be able to do this – of which more later – but immediately it was announced the usual cries came out about why ID cards generally are a good idea, and we ought to bring them in immediately. After all, most of continental Europe uses them, and uses them well, so why are we so stubbornly resistant to them in the UK?

On the surface it seems a very sensible answer. Yes, we in the UK are very stubborn about it, from the famous case of Willcock v Muckle back in 1951, where Harry Willcock successfully challenged the police’s use of ID cards that had been brought in during the Second World War to the fight against Blair’s attempts to bring them in when he was Prime Minister – attempts that were frustrated right up until Gordon Brown’s time as PM finished. The abandonment of the (incomplete) ID card policy was one of the first acts of the new Coalition government in 2010. Why are we so stubborn about this, despite happily embracing CCTV cameras on every street, and accepting blithely (except for a few admirable activists) the police’s use of live facial recognition technology? Do the Brits care about privacy at all, or only just the ‘papers please’ attitude that ID cards seem to represent, because we’re still obsessed with war films and evading the Gestapo like Gordon Jackson and Richard Attenborough in the Great Escape?

I’m sure there’s something in that. We do want to feel heroic, and we do want to feel different (better) than continental Europeans, but that really isn’t the whole story. To understand why, we need to look at how identity cards can be (and would be) used in practice. There are two dimensions to this: using it to assert your identity, in order to claim rights or entitlements, or being required to produce it by some kind of authority, in order to prove who you are, so that they can in some way ‘check up’ on you.

Asserting your identity

Assertion of your identity is a positive act, and is the one that most people think about when seeing ID cards as a good thing. You can use it to prove who you are when you want to do something positive – the same way you use a passport to travel to another country. This is me, you say, and I can prove it.

Papers, please..

The other aspect is when you are required to show your ID. When a police officer stops you on the street and says ‘let’s see some ID’. When you’re minding your own business, but circumstances put you in the way of someone in authority who either wants or has the right to challenge you. This, the ‘papers please’ aspect, is the one that disturbs people – and is the one that Harry Willcock successfully challenged back in 1951. The essence of the challenge back then – and the disturbance now – is to question the right of the authorities to demand your ID without any reason. If you’re just peacefully going about your business, then your identity remains your business. That’s the logic. Britain, the opposers of ID cards would like to think, is not a ‘papers please’ society.

People who are regularly stopped and asked who they are would scoff at the idea that we’re not a papers please society – black kids in inner cities, for example – but it is still something many people cling onto as part of their image of what their country is like.

Voter ID

Voter ID does not quite fit either of these categories, but it illustrates a key point. You don’t have to vote, so it’s in some ways an option that you choose. That means it doesn’t quite fit the classic ‘papers please’ scenario. However, it’s part of normal life, and we should, if we believe in democracy, be encouraging people to vote, rather than putting barriers in their way.

That brings in the question of when is it appropriate to require ID. We require passports for international travel, because that’s what has been agreed as part of the international order. We require driving licences to drive because public safety demands that drivers be able to drive before they’re allowed on the roads – but note that we’re generally not required to produce those driving licences unless something goes wrong. We require proof of age to buy alcohol or cigarettes, because we as a society have agreed that children should not drink or smoke. We require Voter ID, theoretically, to prevent voter fraud – specifically personation. The problem with the Voter ID theory is that the evidence does not suggest that this kind of voter fraud exists in anything but a minuscule way, and certainly not enough to warrant intervention like this. That, though, is a discussion for another time. Voter ID certainly does not require a specific form of ID, just enough identification to reduce the likelihood of personation to an acceptably low level (essentially, a level low enough to remove any potential interference with the democratic process).

One ring…

We do, of course, have sufficient ID systems to do all this already. Driving licences work. Passports work. Kids have a range of ways to convince shops and pubs to let them buy alcohol. So why do we ‘need’ a universal digital ID? From a positive perspective, having a universal system seems attractive. Everyone will have one, it will be a recognisable system that anyone who needs to check will understand. If it’s ‘modern’ it will be both digital and biometric, so it will be (in the eyes of its advocates) impossible to forge, verifiable directly and so forth. Fraud will be minimised. Personation will disappear. We’ll all be protected from the fakers and criminals – that at least is the logic, and part of the attraction. Indeed, a subtext for many people is that we respectable citizens, who don’t have anything to hide, will be delighted to produce our digital ID on demand, to show the officers that we’re trustworthy good people – and that this will protect us from the dodgy people, the criminals, the ‘illegals’, the people who do have something to hide. Anyone against ID cards is supporting criminality. Anyone who refuses to produce a card on demand is obviously suspicious.

When you think about this in the context of immigration enforcement – what Tony Blair was talking about – the implications become a little starker. If immigrants are issued with ID cards and have to show them to ‘prove’ their right to be here, who do we think will be asked to produce them? How will the authorities know when to ask? It’s the people who look like they might be an immigrant, who sound like they might be an immigrant, whose name looks or sounds like an immigrant’s name. So if your skin is dark, if your accent is ‘foreign’, if your name isn’t identifiably ‘British’, the chances of being challenged to produce this ID are increased significantly. This isn’t just a ‘papers please’ society, it’s something qualitatively worse.

Then we come to the digital element of this. Having an ID card is just one part of this. The digital side is another – and an attraction to those in authority. A digital ID card links to a database – that’s the point. Your driving licence links to the DVLA database. Your biometric passport to the passport office. Your work ID card to your employer’s database (to give you access to your buildings etc). A universal digital ID would link to some kind of universal database – and through it to other governmental databases. The idea is direct – produce your ID card, and anything on those databases could get flagged up. Moreover, when you are checked, that act of being checked will produce a record to add to that database. A police officer asks for your ID at an environmental protest? You’re logged as having attended that protest.

If you build it, they will come

If you build a system that allows this kind of checking in, that links to a central database, that can be easily checked, what will happen? More uses will be found for that ID. Use it for voting? Check. Police checks at events or protests? Check. At shops to check your age to buy alcohol? Check. Access to rock festivals? Check. As a digital ID to access government websites? Check. As a proof of age to access ‘adult material’ on the internet? Check. Function creep is real – history has shown that again and again. The Regulation of Investigatory Powers Act (RIPA), ostensibly for serious crime, ended up being used for fly-tipping, dog-fouling and checking children’s catchment areas for schools, amongst other things. This is not a tinfoil-hatted conspiracy theory, but the reality of this kind of a project.

What should we do?

The first thing to understand here is that the risks mentioned are real. When embarking on a project like this, those risks have to be understood and mitigated against. There’s a reason that this kind of a project is less dangerous in most European countries than here – those countries have written constitutions with constitutional protection for privacy. In the UK, we don’t. In the UK, we do it largely on a wing and a prayer – and we have a terrible record of farming out this kind of thing to corporations who both do it on the cheap and have an incentive to try to profit from the data they gather, and indeed to find other uses.

That needs to be dealt with before even considering this kind of thing. The protections need to be in place first, and in our current situation that seems highly unlikely. The Home Office in particular needs at least a thoroughgoing reform, and more likely a replacement, before it can or should be trusted with this kind of thing.

Disclosure minimisation

We also need to think about how the whole thing should be approached. The concept of disclosure minimisation needs to come in here. People should be asked for identification in the minimum number of situations, and the minimum number of people should be authorised to ask for it. It should never be the default. When asked for information, they should be asked for the minimum information. That is, if you need to know someone is old enough to buy alcohol, you don’t need to know anything else – their name, address etc is irrelevant. An ID card system could be designed just to release the relevant attribute rather than all information. This would mean the minimum data is gathered – and, following the principles of data protection, the data should only be kept for the minimum of time. If you need to check someone’s age when they buy alcohol, the data from that check should be immediately deleted – or at least de-identified – so that it does not leave a data-trail of innocent information.

Grit in the wheels

Finally, we should remember that there are good things about a diverse, ‘messy’ situation. There’s nothing wrong with having a driving license for driving, a passport for travelling, a credit card for payment, a work ID for access to your workplace. Keeping functions separate, keeping data separate, reduces risks and protects you from misuse, from function creep – and importantly from hacks and data leaks. A universal database would be a major target for hackers. ‘HACK ME PLEASE’ might as well be written on it in letters 100 m high. Making things easier for hackers is rarely a good thing.

Why?

The biggest question for advocates of universal digital ID systems is ‘why’? Why do you need it? What problem is it solving that has not already been solved? Will it actually solve that problem?

In practice, these systems are often solutions in search of a problem – hence the reason that Blair and others wheel them out after a wide variety of events, hoping finally to convince people that now is the time.

It really isn’t.