I spy

I’ve long argued that Hollywood has simultaneously set and ruined our expectations for smart glasses. But after binge-watching two seasons of Netflix’s A Man on the Inside, this is perhaps the first time I’ve seen Hollywood, perhaps inadvertently, illustrate the biggest cultural problem with smart glasses as they stand today.

In a nutshell, Ted Danson plays Charles Nieuwendyk, an elderly widower who finds a new purpose working for a private investigator. Armed with a pair of Ray-Ban Meta glasses, a voice recorder, and a smartphone, Nieuwendyk infiltrates a retirement home, and several privacy-infringing hijinks ensue as he hunts for the jewel thief robbing the retirees. Arguably, Nieuwendyk’s actions should be despicable. He’s using Ray-Ban Meta glasses — and other gadgets — to spy on an entire retirement home of non-consenting seniors and staff. Scarier still, no one ever seems to notice the glasses’ LED privacy light — which you can see in action during the first episode.

I suspect most viewers will view the smart glasses in this show as a mere plot device or even product placement. It’s an outlandish premise, and the audience is made to understand that Nieuwendyk is a good person. He’s a bored grandpa trying to solve a crime — not, as many anti-smart glasses advocates fear, using glasses to harass women and ransom compromising footage. It helps that he’s not particularly good at staying covert, but after four decades of gracing our TV screens, it’s also hard not to fall for Danson’s palpable avuncular charm. But, as a wearables expert, what I noticed was the internal conflict Nieuwendyk faced as the show progressed — the quiet moments when he decides to leave the glasses off or delete footage. The less-quiet moments when his new friends feel betrayed by his subterfuge, unsure whether they can trust someone who so casually invaded their privacy.

This felt more like a reflection of my own experience as a wearables reviewer. These days, I spend months decked out in “spy glasses” and always-listening gadgets, living in what I’ve dubbed “the wearable surveillance state.”

Two weeks ago, Meta launched cheaper smart glasses without Ray-Ban branding. Meta has been releasing new smart glasses at a steady clip ever since its Ray-Ban Meta glasses exceeded expectations in 2023. Last fall, the company even released its first pair of display glasses, complete with a nigh-invisible screen on the right lens and a futuristic wearable wristband for gesture controls. However, this launch was a bit different. This time, Meta partnered with Kylie Jenner, and ever since, the hot takes have been flowing on Threads — the company’s X-like social media platform.

“We all agree that the Meta glasses are for perverts, yes?” Namina Forna, a NYT bestselling author, writes in a Threads post with over 30,000 likes.

Posts like those have been rampant over the past week or so. To be fair, it’s worth noting that these glasses aren’t capable of 24/7 audio or video surveillance as some posters allege. Battery life is nowhere near good enough; using Live AI for continuous video, taking long phone calls, or recording about 10 3K videos will drain the battery in less than an hour (and that’s if you start fully charged). Even so, the fact that you can mod the glasses or take short, stealthy clips is unsettling enough to inspire visceral reactions online. Some posts advocate that women buy the glasses to clap back and surveil the creeps harassing them. Others suggest violence, snatching people’s glasses, or publicly shaming Meta glasses users by yelling “Pedophile!” or expletives. A handful of posts point to Kylie Jenner as a hypocrite for publicly stating she values privacy while becoming a brand ambassador for Meta.

Social media is never a good place for nuanced debate, but that’s particularly true of Threads, which heavily rewards rage-bait. That said, these posts are a succinct if crude snapshot of the cultural tension surrounding AI wearables. These past few weeks, I’ve been testing the Ray-Ban Meta Optics, the new Meta Glasses, and Vocci, an AI note-taking ring. These posts ring in my head as I wear and use these devices in public. Because while smart glasses are at the forefront of the privacy debate, AI wearables are a category that already encompasses pendants, pins, and rings that can stealthily record conversations. Most are intended for business meetings or lectures — automatic transcripts and AI summaries are appealing to lecturers, lawyers, doctors, students, and journalists. The catch is that once a recording gadget is in my hands, I don’t have to use it as intended.

As a journalist, the Vocci ring was immensely valuable this past tech conference season. I was able to get on-the-record interviews and demos without having to use my phone. It made interview subjects a bit more natural, even though I’d explained beforehand that I was using a ring to record them and showed them the not-bright-enough recording light. While covering the Enhanced Games, I used it to discreetly record voice notes. It was immensely helpful to press the button, which would “highlight” anything said in an interview that I found interesting in real time. It was comforting to me that this wasn’t an always-on recording device like some other AI wearables I’ve tested. As an intentional work tool, where I am obtaining consent, the ring was excellent.

Less excellent was how easily I could surreptitiously record my spouse, trusted friends, and colleagues without them noticing. (This was for testing purposes. I always disclosed and immediately deleted any such recordings afterward, while also asking for opinions on the LED recording light.) Honestly, it was so effective, I’d be shocked if AI rings didn’t feature in future spy movies or seasons of A Man on the Inside.

Unlike Charles Nieuwendyk or James Bond, I am not a fictional character played by a charismatic actor. When I’m going about my business wearing these wearables, the public doesn’t know that I’m a tech journalist who has to adhere to a strict ethics policy. To passersby, it doesn’t matter what I do to obtain consent or the hours I spend considering how to test these devices as ethically as possible. It doesn’t matter that I’ve rehearsed and prepared for what to do and say if someone ever confronted me about the devices I’m wearing every time I walk out the door. They don’t know me, and so why should they trust me? After testing these wearables and covering this space, I wouldn’t blame anyone for mistaking me as a spy.

The central conflict of AI wearables is that to be effective, they have to be discreet and, to a degree, covert. The Meta glasses and Vocci ring work because they’re easy to overlook. You feel comfortable wearing them, and you know you’re not being a privacy-invading glasshole. But this hinges on everyone assuming your good intent. The other sad truth is there’s nothing any individual user can do to increase trust in these devices.

The only “successful” example I can think of is the AirTag. The same privacy and security arguments apply to AirTags as smart glasses. Surveillance gadgets have existed for ages, but the affordability and increased wearability is new and, therefore, concerning. Sure, the overwhelming majority of people use AirTags to find lost items and smart glasses for benign content recording and media playback. The bad actors who’ve misused these devices are a tiny minority — but they exist and have done undeniable harm.

The main difference is that AirTags have an obvious killer use case, and Apple nerfed the devices by implementing unwanted tracking alerts. It doesn’t prevent misuse, but it does make it harder and less appealing. Apple has also taken feedback from domestic abuse advocates after critics pointed out the alerts weren’t robust enough. And as scary as it is, there have been videos on social media where people did find out someone was potentially stalking them before harm was committed.

There is no equivalent for AI wearables at this moment. Not to beat a dead horse, but it’s been proven that LED recording lights are easy to overlook, washed out on a sunny day, and can be tampered with. The obvious solution to me would be to sacrifice a bit of style for harder-to-ignore signifiers. I’m talking audible shutter noises, like smartphones have in Japan — a feature required by law to prevent perverts from taking nonconsensual photos of women. Perhaps even physical shutters or miniature lens caps like DSLR cameras. One current example that comes to mind is Xreal’s modular camera attachment. You can insert the camera when you want to take photos and completely remove it when you don’t.

“We’ve considered [a] modular [approach],” Alex Himel, Meta’s VP of wearables, told me at the Meta Glasses launch event, noting that it does come with several benefits. For example, it’d reduce the number of SKUs and designs needed. People could upgrade regular glasses easily.

The problem, Himel says, is the glasses “wouldn’t be as clean or integrated. [They’d] be heavier, clunkier, and wouldn’t look as good.” He went on to say that Meta is aware of increasing attempts to tamper with the privacy lights and to expect more robust privacy updates soon.

After months spent as an unintentional wearable snoop, I’m convinced the AI wearable surveillance state isn’t inevitable. These are still niche devices. It’s still very early days. Enough controversy, and this could all come crashing down like a house of cards. (Just ask Google.) For all the hate on Threads — Oh, the delicious irony of this discourse happening in Meta’s own backyard — there’s still time for Big Tech to put on their big boy pants, make like Spike Lee, and do the right thing. After all, it’s in their best interest. If they won’t be proactive, legislators will eventually catch up. Private companies and venues are already starting to restrict these glasses and deny entry to Meta glasses wearers. Zenni Optical is already selling anti-facial recognition lenses.

But even if I do occasionally find this tech useful — sometimes even delightful — I’ve come to the same conclusion as Charles Nieuwendyk. Even if you have the best intentions, it feels pretty lousy being entrusted with strangers’ privacy. In TV comedies, forgiveness comes easy because conflicts are always neatly wrapped up by the season finale. That’s not guaranteed in the real world. Like Nieuwendyk, I’m just doing my job. The difference is, I never wanted to be a spy.