Surveillance capitalism: exploring the erosion of privacy in the digital age

In the vast and hyper-connected world of digital capitalism, personal privacy is undergoing a radical transformation. With every click, search, swipe, or spoken command, individuals unwittingly participate in a massive, opaque system of data extraction. The concept of surveillance capitalism, brought into global discourse by Shoshana Zuboff's seminal work 'The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power', lays bare a new economic order-one that does not merely profit from our actions, but from the intimate details of our lives. 

This system of commodifying human experience under the guise of technological convenience has become one of the greatest threats to autonomy, democracy, and freedom in the modern era. At the same time, it also opens up a space for critical reflection, resistance, and the pursuit of digital liberation, especially in countries navigating the dual challenges of modernisation and authoritarian tendencies, such as Bangladesh.

Surveillance capitalism is not merely a technological advancement; it is an economic logic that reconfigures the very fabric of how individuals interact with their digital environments. According to Zuboff, it is a parasitic system in which private human experience becomes raw material to be claimed, analysed, and transformed into behavioural data. 

The data are then used to train algorithms, build predictive models, and create "behavioural futures markets" in which human behaviour is anticipated, bought, and sold. Unlike industrial capitalism, which relied on transforming nature into products, surveillance capitalism transforms life itself-memories, preferences, fears, routines-into a monetisable asset.

The erosion of privacy in this system is not accidental; it is structural. The more data collected, the more predictive the model. The more predictive the model, the more valuable it becomes. This cycle fuels a relentless appetite for more intimate, real-time, and ambient data-from voice assistants that listen around the clock, to mobile apps that track geolocation even when not in use, to smart appliances that record usage patterns. All of this is done with minimal transparency, limited consent, and often with legal ambiguity.

This invisible mechanism of extraction is deeply asymmetrical. Users often have no idea how their data are being used, who is profiting from it, or what implications it has for their current and future situations. Meanwhile, tech corporations accumulate vast reserves of knowledge about individuals and society as a whole, giving them unprecedented power to influence opinions, behaviour, and even social norms.

Zuboff aptly describes this imbalance as "epistemic inequality," where the knowledge disparity between the watchers and the watched becomes so extreme that it threatens the foundation of democratic life. Power in this regime no longer flows from visibility, but from invisibility-from being able to see without being seen, know without being known.

In many Western democracies, debates over privacy, regulation, and corporate accountability are gradually gaining ground. Europe's General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) and increasing calls for digital rights are steps in the right direction. However, in countries like Bangladesh, where legal safeguards remain weak and digital literacy is uneven, surveillance capitalism collides with fragile political structures, exacerbating the risk of exploitation. The promise of "Digital Bangladesh"-a vision of modernised governance, digitised services, and economic inclusion-is shadowed by a growing surveillance apparatus that blurs the line between development and control.

In Bangladesh, the state's adoption of digital technologies has led to a centralised ecosystem of biometric ID systems, online records, and mobile-based services. While these innovations improve efficiency and access, they also facilitate mass data collection without adequate data protection laws in place. The introduction of national identity databases, digital birth registrations, and mobile financial services has resulted in vast troves of citizen information being stored in government and private databases. 

Yet, the rights of individuals over this information remain largely undefined. There is no comprehensive legal framework to govern how the data are collected, stored, shared, or deleted. Most citizens are unaware of how their data circulate, and even fewer are in a position to challenge its misuse.

Surveillance capitalism in Bangladesh is not limited to corporate actors. The state increasingly engages in direct surveillance of its citizens, often under the pretext of national security or public order. Laws like the Digital Security Act and its revised form, the Cyber Security Act, are frequently used to suppress dissenting voices, detain journalists, and monitor social media activities. 

The government's growing reliance on facial recognition software, internet shutdowns, and data monitoring further entrenches a culture of fear and self-censorship. This dual surveillance-corporate and state-represents a merging of commercial and political power that echoes Zuboff's warning of a future in which unaccountable digital empires quietly undermine democracy.

Moreover, the impact of surveillance capitalism in Bangladesh reflects deep social and economic inequalities. In rural and low-income communities, people often lack the awareness or capacity to understand how their data are being used. When individuals register for welfare programmes, healthcare, or financial services, they provide sensitive personal information without being aware of the associated risks. 

This data may be shared across platforms, stored in insecure databases, or accessed by third parties. Due to low digital literacy, marginalised populations are often the most surveilled and least protected. Their data become a resource in the global information economy, while they remain voiceless in how it is used. This constitutes a new form of digital exploitation-one that is silent, persistent, and hidden in plain sight.

Despite this bleak scenario, Zuboff's work offers hope. She calls for a new vision of digital society-one grounded in dignity, autonomy, and democratic accountability. This vision requires nothing less than a comprehensive transformation of politics, law, and culture. At its heart lies the idea that individuals must regain control over their data and that societies must establish clear ethical and legal boundaries on how technology can be used.

In Bangladesh, such a transformation begins with awareness. Public discourse must move beyond the celebration of digital services to critically engage with the questions of data ownership, consent, and rights. Education systems need to include digital literacy that extends beyond the technical to the civic, empowering people not only to use digital tools but also to question their implications. 

Civil society must play a proactive role in advocating for a data protection law that aligns with international standards and includes strong enforcement mechanisms, transparency requirements, and citizen remedies.

Journalism and academia also play a vital role. Investigative reporting can expose abuses of data and surveillance systems, while research can help quantify risks and propose alternative models. More broadly, a culture of critical thinking must be cultivated, one that refuses to accept the inevitability of digital domination and instead imagines digital futures that prioritise human freedom.

Importantly, resistance to surveillance capitalism need not be anti-technology. It can be pro-innovation, pro-digital, and pro-progress-but only when public interest, rather than corporate profits, defines these terms. Technology can serve human needs without violating human rights. It can be designed to empower, not manipulate. It can foster community, not control. But to do so, ethical principles, democratic oversight, and active citizen engagement must guide its development.

The erosion of privacy is not just a technical problem; it is a moral and political crisis. It demands a redefinition of what it means to be human in a digital world. Zuboff's powerful insight-that we must fight for a human future at the new frontier of power-is a call to action for all societies navigating the promises and perils of digital capitalism.

For Bangladesh, this means forging a path where technology is a tool of liberation, not surveillance; where citizens are data owners, not data subjects; and where the digital age expands freedom, rather than replacing it with control.

As the country advances into an increasingly digital future, the choice remains stark: to replicate the extractive models of surveillance capitalism or to build a new paradigm rooted in human dignity, justice, and democratic accountability. The time to make that choice is now-before the invisible chains of surveillance tighten beyond repair.

Dr Matiur Rahman is a researcher and development worker.

matiurrahman588@gmail.com