Many people are feeling pretty relieved
that Caspar Bowden will no longer be challenging them on a wide range of
privacy issues. His recent death,
announced yesterday, has removed one of the most robust critics of the
surveillance community, a person who could be infuriatingly perceptive about
the ways Governments tried to monitor communications technologies.
I first met Caspar a good few years
ago – and while I could respect him for his deep understanding of so many
technical privacy and surveillance matters, I found it hard to relax in his
company. His passion for privacy was unequivocal. A pragmatist he wasn’t. And
he didn't care who he upset in ensuring that his views were heard.
Often exasperating? Oh yes.
Opinionated? Indeed, yes. I’ve heard may a conference chairman mutter a few
more adjectives about him, too. In the conference arena, his message came
across with uncompromising clarity. He would make his views known regardless of
whether he was speaking from the podium or from the floor.
I remember one occasion a few years
ago in Westminster, when I was organising a range of witnesses to address the
Joint Parliamentary Committee on the draft Communications Data Bill. Early one
evening I received an email from a clearly annoyed Caspar, demanding to be told
why he had not yet been asked to address the Committee. He was a busy man, and
needed to make time in his schedule to be available to explain some of the
remarks that he had made in a detailed paper that had recently submitted for
the Committee’s consideration.
I wondered whether I should point out
that it was generally the case that Parliamentary Committees would decide who
they wanted to hear from. It was not up to witnesses to determine whether they
had a right to address a Committee.
I placated Caspar by explaining that I
thought he might make the most impact by being one of the last witnesses to be
called – leaving the Committee of MPs and Peers (one of whom is now the
minister for Data Protection) with a much stronger impression of who he was and
what he stood for.
He liked that idea – and even gave me
a friendly smile the next time we met. He was determined to tell those
parliamentarians a thing or two.
And he did.
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