Farrell: Smile, you’re on camera ... and audio ... and you’re in the cloud

The Washington Post reported last week on a patient in Texas who felt uneasy about her surgeon.

Before the surgery, the patient — who had previously butted heads with the doctor — tucked a small audio-recording device into her ponytail.

If something were to happen to her, she thought, her family might hear evidence of what went wrong.

She survived and later reviewed the recording.

It was not pretty.

While the patient was unconscious, her surgeon and others present in the operating room seemed to make fun of her bellybutton and to joke about the Bill Cosby sex-scandal in conjunction with talk of “touching” the patient.

They called the patient “Precious” (though it’s unclear if they were comparing her to the obese illiterate teenager from that film who, like the patient, was black) and they said they felt bad for her husband.

At one point, someone warned the others about making comments that could be construed as sexual.

“Everybody’s got things on phones these days,” the voice said. “Everybody’s got a camera.”

Indeed.

They do.

If one assertion about modern life has been proven to be true, it’s that we are being watched.

Our quotidian habits are often forever etched on artificial brains and our recorded actions are easily shareable and tidily broadcast — should there be a reason for others to take a gander, that is.

Our temporary presence on this earth is becoming more and more permanent. Our actions are becoming more undeniable.

These days, we’d be lucky to get from home to work without having had our photos taken a dozen times without us realizing it.

Our words are archived in texts and online.

Our voicemails are easily emailed to others.

Our private behaviors are less and less so.

On the one hand, this level of surveillance is good.

An accountability that was once muddied by “someone-said/someone-else-said” scenarios or that relied on eyewitness accounts is now crisply presented on screen.

Justice is being served in ways it couldn’t have been 25 years ago or even five years ago.

We see it all the time locally. You want to rob a Subway? Smile for the camera. Thinking about taking a musician’s $20,000 guitar from The Rooftop Bar at Poseidon? Might want to comb your hair first.

People these days, I would hope, are getting away with less crime and maybe even taming their criminal impulses because they know they’re in the camera frame.

Recording devices have helped trace the final steps of murder victims. They’ve brought more accountability to police work — for both law enforcement officers and those they come into contact with. And they’ve deepened our awareness of politicians’ hypocrisies.

On the other hand, though, the ubiquity of cameras — and audio-recording devices — means ordinary folks are being watched. We are being heard. And the footage isn’t grainy.

So now, the question is, what do we do with our hands?

Or rather, our mouths?

If we live in a world where everyone is strapped to the gills with audio and video equipment, will it mean the end of gossip and the end of candid talk, of jokes with pals?

The idea that someone is always watching us is not new, of course.

Some of us believe that God sees all, others think it’s the government, and the smaller among us are pretty sure it’s Santa Claus. Some of us don’t need omniscient pressure to act accordingly.

We know right from wrong. We value our own professionalism. We conduct ourselves as though our actions always matter, despite who might be privy to them.

Mostly.

No one is perfect.

Especially when they think they’re among friends.

People make stupid jokes. They go for the momentary laugh. They talk behind each other’s backs. They vent. And they say insensitive things meant for their intended audience only.

The surgeon and those present in the operating room when the patient in Texas was unconscious likely felt safe to say what was on their minds, to talk trash about the vulnerable human on the table before them.

“Talking trash,” of course, is a necessity for 100 percent of reality TV, 75 percent of online commenting and 50 percent of any good Sunday brunch.

But it’s not something you want to hear from the person who is wrist-deep in your vitals.

It’s good that this happened, though.

Something tells me that this particular group of health care providers — and any professional who read the story — will know next time to adjust their script.

As for the rest of us?

Maybe we’ll be adjusting ours, too.

This story was originally published April 11, 2016 at 3:57 PM with the headline "Farrell: Smile, you’re on camera ... and audio ... and you’re in the cloud."