Big brother - a mere 26 years late

Last 24 June Julia Gillard became Prime Minister of Australia. Predictably, Kevin Rudd’s ousting and Julia Gillard’s ascension created a media frenzy. So hardly anyone noticed a momentous event that occurred on 25 June, i.e. passage through the Senate of the Healthcare Identifiers Bill 2010 [1]. This Act [2], which received Royal Assent on 28 June, enables the compulsory allocation (no opting out) of a 16-digit electronic healthcare identifying number to every Australian [3]. This number will store each individual’s name, address and birthdate. No clinical information will be stored with it. All healthcare providers will use this unique number for each patient. Use of the identifiers will allegedly facilitate communication between providers. The clinical information collected and stored by each provider will not be seen by other providers. The identifiers will be gradually rolled out by Medicare Australia, nominally from last 1 July. The system’s predicted to become fully operational next October [4]. After that, doctors, hospitals and the Australian public can obtain the numbers by telephoning Medicare Australia. The identifier’s use may reduce government healthcare costs, but as it’s not linked to clinical data it can’t per se benefit patients. It reeks of Big Brother and 1984. Twenty six years late. It’s enough to make me quiver in my boots. And George Orwell (pictured) to roll over in his grave [5, 6]. Ho hum.

This week's compendium

Here’s this week’s compendium. This week…

1. film director Oliver Stone showed the world – again – what a bigot he is [1]. He’d have to be a friend of Mel Gibson’s, wouldn’t he? And Helen Thomas’s too.

2. the ageing ex football star I’ve mentioned before [2a, 2b, 2c] was fined on a road rage (i.e. parking rage) charge [2d]. Why would his behaviour change?

3. I loved this treehugger article explaining how tradition knowledge informs innovation [3]. As I’m an old guy, of course I’d love it.

4. the Age reported how Myki smart cards, newly introduced on Victoria’s public transport, are allowing police to track people’s movements [4]. Big Brother’s not a member of my family.

5. Nutrition Diva said that regarding supplements for osteoarthritis: don’t bother with chondroitin, and try glucosamine for three months as it either works or it doesn’t [5]. It didn’t work for me.

6. I came across the concept of ‘free range children’ [6]. And I think it’s a good one.

7. I was impressed by a couple growing all the food for their 100-person wedding reception [7]. Good for them; and all their guests.

8. Prime Minister Gillard unveiled a ‘cash for clunkers’ scheme funded by cuts to existing renewable energy programmes [8]. It may (or may not) be a vote winner, but it’s stupid.

Finally, I wish you, dear Farmdoc’s Blog readers, a wonderful week.

farmdoc's blog post number 361

At the start of every single phone interaction I have with a call centre – be it the tax office, an airline, a utility company, or you name it, I get asked those ‘proof of identity’ questions. They irritate the hell out of me. So sometimes – to the detriment of my best interests, I know – I gratuitously volunteer that my dog’s name’s Pete. I understand there are situations where identity does need to be confirmed, but I get these ridiculous questions even when I seek information not specific to me. So, overall, I think the privacy fetish of recent years is over the top. Well over. So you can imagine my alarm when I came across this link. It’s a photograph of President Obama’s 2009 inauguration, in which you can see in clear focus the face of every single individual in the crowd. You can scan, double left click and zoom to any section of the crowd. After a few seconds the focus adjusts. The photograph was taken with a 1,474 megapixel camera (295 times the standard 5 megapixel camera). So now it’s impossible to attend a public event such as a football game or a political rally, and keep your identity private. In the current age of terrorism maybe this technology's necessary. So why does it make me feel less, and not more, secure, eh George?