The UK Government has begun its trial of a biometric passport
scheme. Here, Duncan Drury, a volunteer for the scheme and a member
of NO2ID, a coalition opposing the current ID card proposals,
describes his experiences for OUT-LAW.COM.
The UK Government has begun its trial of a biometric passport
scheme. Here, Duncan Drury, a volunteer for the scheme and a member
of NO2ID, a coalition opposing the current ID card proposals,
describes his experiences for OUT-LAW.COM.
It is with a mixture of techie glee and Orwellian paranoia that
I present myself at the UK Passport Service offices for the
Biometrics Enrolment trial – part of preparations for the
Government's controversial National ID Cards scheme. I enrolled to
learn more about what could amount to the greatest intrusion of
Government into our lives since conscription ended in 1960. I hope
the government doesn't construe this as supporting ID cards.
I join a queue of mainly nervous passport applicants that snakes
through the foyer leading to metal detectors and x-ray machines.
The lady from MORI brings in someone off the street – the trial is
several thousand people short and needs to make up numbers to be
considered valid.
While I wait I read the background material – thankfully it
discloses that all biometrics will be destroyed at the end of the
trial, a relief considering the controversial retention of DNA
records from innocent people on the National DNA Database. There is
no reason for my fingerprints to be in the police database.
After the demographics section of the questionnaire comes the
meat of the trial – being registered, counted, measured, numbered
etc. in a booth containing the biometricisation hardware. The
operator checks my details and I am alarmed to see her enter my
name and the code from my questionnaire – "I thought that was
anonymous" I say. "It's only for the card" she says. I let it
go.
First up is facial recognition. I look into the Panasonic
BM-ET300 and hear a shutter sound played. "Is this picture ok?" the
operator asks – it looks a little distorted, like web cam shots of
red eyed programmers sitting at their computers long into the
night. "Yeah, fine" I say.
Iris scanning comes next – I am to line up my eyes in the mirror
of the BM-ET300. The machine bleats out instructions in a robotic
female voice reminiscent of the computer in Alien – "move back
slightly, left, right slightly, forward slightly". I am confused
yet the operator defers to the machine – "Just follow the machine's
instructions".
Eventually I figure out that the circle in the centre of the
mirror is a target – one eye should be centred on that. The shutter
sound plays, and I have been iris scanned. I am sure that only my
left eye has been taken, but the machine thinks otherwise, and we
don't argue with the machine.
We sit and drum our fingers as communication is attempted
between the UKPS and Atos Origin's server in Andover. Thrice it
fails, and the operator decides to skip the retina scan. I won't be
able to find out if my iris matches one of the others on the
database, and I won't have a complete biometrics card.
Now I place my fingertips on the glass screen of an Identix
TouchPrint 3100. Each print is checked for quality, and against a
dummy database in Andover. This time there is no network problem,
and I have passed the test –no one else is running around with my
fingerprints, as far as they know.
Finally the operator asks me to sign my name on an LCD screen,
which will also be stored on the card.
I return to the queuing room to complete the questionnaire – am
I more or less concerned about biometrics now I have gone through
the process? Do I think that ID cards will protect us from
terrorism, illegal working, identity fraud?
Moments later my ID card is ready. The operator asks me which
verification I would like to try –I opt for facial recognition, the
least reliable of the biometrics. I sit down in front of another
Panasonic device, a photo is taken, and my card is plugged into a
reader. The operator turns her screen around to show me the picture
from my card, with the reassuring word "Verified" in green
underneath.
I am a valid human being - at least for the period of the
trial.
