Readers may be familiar with the famous Dolly Parton line “It costs a lot of money to look this cheap”. I like to paraphrase it. If I have a guest at my home, I’ll sweep my hand across the room and say: “Friend, it took a lot of learning to live this dumb.” No, I’m not talking about learning to wear my Danny Dyer T-shirts with pride. I’m talking about my refusal to sign up to smart tech: the internet-connected versions of quotidian household machinery that are becoming commonplace in our modern lives – and increasingly being used by domestic abusers to target their victims.
Smart technology is nothing new, but its proliferation is. In 2019, 57% of homes in Britain had at least one smart device, with people no doubt persuaded by the promise of fully customisable, and even drudgery-free, Jetsons-style residences. Those numbers are rising, with manufacturers seemingly desperate to “smart” anything that can be plugged in (and, of course, charge more for it). There are smart kettles that can be boiled from your phone; smart showers that let you set the temperature digitally; and smart fridges that send you a text to say there is no milk, as if modern life were in short supply of passive-aggressive housemates.
At times it can be quite the effort to find “dumb” tech at all. I felt this keenly on a trip to a high-street electronics chain only a few weeks ago, where nearly all of the gadgets on display were smart. Let’s just say it felt very 2023 to say “I’d prefer my lightbulbs didn’t talk to me” and for people to think I was the mad one.
Because for all the promises of smart tech, at least a “dumb” heating system can’t be taken over by a vindictive ex, and used to torment you with unbearable heat or terrible cold, when you have no idea why. A daft doorbell can’t tell a stalker when you leave, or when you’re home, or where you go if you use a smartwatch, too. And no stupid speaker can be used to listen in on your private conversations. These situations may sound like nightmares, but they are all real cases of smart tech-enabled domestic abuse. And the number of cases is shooting up: between 2018 and 2022, the domestic violence charity Refuge saw an increase of 258% in the number of survivors supported by their tech abuse team.
The problem is, despite the lightspeed adoption of smart tech, making sure it’s safe and fit for purpose hasn’t kept the same pace. Until recently, there was no legal requirement for a smart product to be secure at all – mandatory safety tests were much more concerned with things like electrical fires – and it was left to manufacturers to mark their own homework when deciding if security was something they wanted to invest in. Some did, some didn’t, and some started only to then stop: 2022 research from Which? found that some common smart devices stopped receiving security updates from their manufacturers (making them easy to hack) in as little as two years. So the discontinued or older smart speaker, Hive or smart doorbell many of us have installed probably has very little security left.
At the end of last year, the Product Security and Telecommunications Infrastructure (PSTI) Act was passed, finally bringing in minimum security standards for new smart devices. These include bans on default passwords, and a requirement that consumers are told when their device will stop being supported. But although such changes will be generally helpful, they may not do enough to specifically protect women who have their smart tech controlled by abusers.
And that’s because – as is so often misunderstood when discussing issues around women’s safety – the bogeyman is often not a malicious stranger, but someone the victim already knows. What works against an unknown person may prove less effective against a former partner who, for example, already knows your wifi password, or has the heating app installed, or has other administrative permissions that were handed over in happier times (an especially crucial PSA for women whose relationships have ended: if you’re changing the locks, change your passwords, too). It also doesn’t help that women tend to be less digitally literate than men – according to a 2018 report, 61% of people in the UK with no digital skills were women – so it is likely to be a man setting up the smart systems, with women lacking the knowhow to change details or update permissions further down the line.
I may not know the answer to the big tech questions of our age: will robots eventually replace us? Can automation give us more time to create art, think and act on our compassion? Can I really make $2,400 a day from bitcoin like the New Jersey mom in the pop-up ads? (Only joking, I know the answer to that one). But I know I have enough to think about without having to add regular smart-tech maintenance to the list.
So for now, for me, the smartest choice is not smart at all – not until smart tech is easier to keep secure. It may mean missing out on a few tricks: tracking my runs, or not seeing closeups of my beloved aunty’s nose as she stands too close to the door cam (fortunately I have WhatsApp for that). But it’s worth it for peace of mind. If you’re going to the shops for some new tech, I implore you: be smart, choose dumb.
