An opinion column in the Post Register opens with a line most Americans learn in school: governments derive their just powers from "the consent of the governed." The columnist's argument is that this principle should carry real weight when government gains the ability to systematically track ordinary people. It is a short premise, but it frames a question worth asking about nearly every modern data collection system: who actually agreed to it?

This post looks at that question through the lens of mass surveillance consent of the governed. One caveat first: the excerpt available to us covers only the column's opening framing, so we are not summarizing its detailed arguments. Instead, we use its central idea as a test and apply it to mechanisms privacy readers already encounter.

What the column argues about consent and surveillance

The column draws on the Declaration of Independence to make a simple point. Government power is legitimate because the public grants it. If that is true, then powers that let the state watch large numbers of people who are not suspected of anything should not arrive quietly, through technical rules or buried provisions. They should be debated openly and approved by the public through its representatives.

That standard is more demanding than it sounds. Consent in the democratic sense means informed agreement, not just the absence of a loud objection. A surveillance capability that most people do not know exists, or do not understand, cannot easily be said to rest on their consent.

Where consent breaks down in everyday data collection

The consent test is useful because so much data collection fails it in practical ways. Three familiar examples stand out:

  • Data brokers. Companies that compile and sell personal information typically have no direct relationship with the people they profile. Most people never clicked "I agree" to anything involving them. When government agencies can buy or access that kind of data, the line between private commerce and state tracking gets blurry, and the public has little say.
  • ISP logging. Internet service providers sit between you and nearly everything you do online. What they record, how long they keep it, and who can request it are matters governed by policy and law, yet few subscribers could describe those rules for their own provider.
  • Terms of service. Long, unread agreements are often treated as consent. That may satisfy a legal checkbox, but it is a thin version of the informed agreement the Declaration describes.

In each case, the information exists because of a system most people did not design and cannot easily opt out of. That gap between legal permission and genuine public approval is the heart of the consent problem.

Age verification as a test case for surveillance infrastructure

Age verification mandates are a current example of how this plays out. Such measures are usually introduced with a goal many people support, protecting children online. The consent question is whether the public is also agreeing to the infrastructure needed to carry them out.

Checking a user's age at scale generally means collecting identifying information, whether through documents, biometrics, or third-party verification services. Once that machinery is built, it can outlast the specific law that created it and be adapted for other purposes. Privacy advocates raise this concern repeatedly, and our coverage of the KIDS Act and how age checks build a surveillance system examines it in detail.

The point is not that child safety is unimportant. It is that a policy can have a popular purpose and still create lasting capabilities that deserve their own separate, explicit public debate.

What individuals can and cannot do with VPNs and encryption

Readers often ask whether privacy tools solve this. The honest answer is: partly.

A VPN can shift who sees your traffic. It can hide your browsing activity from your ISP and mask your IP address from the sites you visit, though the VPN provider itself can then see certain connection information, so trust in the provider matters. Encrypted messaging and device encryption protect the content of your communications and files. These are meaningful safeguards against specific kinds of collection.

But they have limits that connect directly to the column's theme:

  • A VPN does not remove your data from broker databases.
  • It does not help if a service requires you to submit identity documents to access it.
  • It cannot change laws or the infrastructure that those laws require.

Privacy tools protect individuals. Consent is a collective, political question. Personal safeguards can reduce your exposure, but they are not a substitute for public debate about what governments are allowed to build.

What This Means For You

The column's framing gives you a practical question to ask whenever a new tracking proposal appears: did the public meaningfully approve this, and do we understand what will be built to enforce it? You do not need a technical background to ask it.

On a personal level, you can reduce unnecessary exposure while still engaging in the larger conversation.

Actionable takeaways

  • Read proposals beyond the headline. Look at what data a measure requires and who would hold it.
  • Check your own settings. Review what your ISP, apps, and devices collect, and opt out of data broker listings where that option exists.
  • Use privacy tools realistically. Encryption and a VPN you have researched can reduce exposure, but they do not address every form of tracking.
  • Contact your representatives. Consent of the governed is exercised through voting and public comment, not only through personal settings.

If you want to see how a child-safety bill can create lasting infrastructure, read our piece on the KIDS Act and age checks. Then weigh privacy tools as one partial safeguard, alongside the harder work of debating what mass surveillance the public is truly willing to accept under the principle of consent of the governed.