The Eye in Your Pocket and the Person It Cannot See

Carissa Véliz argues that digital devices are built to track us — and she is largely right. But the Catholic intellectual tradition can take her insight further: when technology is designed to treat persons as data, it violates not merely democratic norms but the natural order of human dignity itself.

May 28, 20266 min read

A woman in her mid-thirties opens a maps app to find the nearest pharmacy. She does not know that in doing so she has refreshed her location timestamp, updated her movement pattern, and contributed another data point to a behavioral profile she has never seen and cannot request. She finds the pharmacy. The app finds something too.

Carissa Véliz begins her essay in Aeon with a deceptively quiet claim: 'Things have jobs.' She means it as a lens, not a slogan. A hammer is built to drive nails; a surveillance apparatus is built to surveil. The smartphone most of us carry — accelerometer, gyroscope, barometer, GPS, iris scanner all running in the background — was not primarily designed to serve its owner. It was designed to watch.

This observation is philosophically sharp. But Véliz works within a framework that, for all its clarity about power and accountability, cannot quite reach the deepest wound that surveillance inflicts.

Artefacts and the standard they are judged against

Véliz is right that artefacts embody values. The Thomistic tradition adds the question of which values, and against what standard they should be measured. For Aquinas, natural law is not a set of rules imposed from outside the human person but the rational creature's own participation in eternal reason — the light by which we discern what promotes or damages genuine flourishing. An artefact is not merely shaped by its designer's intentions; it is subject to a moral judgment that precedes those intentions entirely.

Gabriel Zanotti, reading Aquinas's Summa Contra Gentiles, puts the principle plainly: whatever leads a person toward their natural end is naturally good; whatever draws them away is naturally bad.[^2] The measure is not market preference or democratic consensus, but the ordered teleology of the human person. A device that harvests your location, your pulse, and your purchasing patterns is not merely a threat to your political franchise. It treats you as a legible object — a bundle of predictable responses — rather than a self-determining subject ordered toward a transcendent end. That is the deeper charge.

Zanotti further notes that every person carries a right to intimacy: a sphere of inner and outer life that no power, however benevolent, may colonize.[^3] This is not a liberal add-on. It follows directly from the recognition that human beings are not social instruments. They are persons whose dignity is constituted by their orientation toward God. Surveillance colonizes that intimacy not with a single dramatic invasion but through the patient accumulation of ten thousand small legibilities.

The interior life that algorithms reshape

John Paul II, in Veritatis Splendor, names the connection between freedom and interiority that illuminates Véliz's deepest anxiety. Freedom, he argues, is not the absence of constraint but the capacity to act from conscious, personal choice — 'motivated and prompted personally from within, and not through blind internal impulse or merely external pressure.'[^4] When a technology is built to predict your behavior in order to influence it, this interiority is the thing under attack.

The surveillance apparatus does not merely record what you do. It shapes the menu of options you encounter, amplifies certain emotions, filters the information that reaches you at all, and substitutes algorithmic pressure — invisible, continuous, calibrated — for the interior deliberation that constitutes genuine human agency. Think of it as a kind of perpetual, sub-perceptual whisper that never identifies itself as a voice.

Véliz sees the damage as primarily political: surveillance concentrates power, threatens democratic institutions, enables authoritarian control. All of that is true. But the damage precedes the political outcome. A person whose attention is harvested, whose preferences are nudged, whose social world is curated by an optimization function calibrated to engagement rather than truth — that person is already less free. Not merely politically. As a moral agent. The tyranny Véliz fears is downstream of an anthropological wound.

False Consent

Aquinas himself acknowledged that human law cannot prohibit everything natural law condemns. Zanotti, summarizing Aquinas on this point, notes that civil law properly operates with a margin of tolerance — penalizing only those violations serious enough to make social life impossible.[^5] People freely download apps. They click 'I agree.' If they are harmed, is that not, in some meaningful sense, their own doing?

This objection misreads the nature of the consent at issue. Aquinas's tolerance for imperfect law presupposes agents who understand what they are agreeing to and whose deliberative faculty has not already been compromised by the structure of the agreement itself. When terms of service run to forty or fifty pages of legal abstraction, when the data collected is invisible by design, when behavioral modification operates beneath the threshold of conscious perception, calling this 'free consent' is a kind of grammatical fiction.

Nordling, writing on the fallen condition of human reason, observes that we tend to misconstrue what natural law requires — and those who control new tools have every incentive to dress moral scrutiny as naïve sentiment.[^6] The fiction of consent is not morally neutral. It is doing important work on behalf of someone.

Persons above policies

Véliz ends with a call for better design, better regulation, more democratic accountability. Those are worthy goals. But the tradition presses further: a surveillance architecture is not merely a policy failure. It is the systematic expression of a false anthropology — one that reduces the person to behavioral data and places human legibility at the service of power rather than communion.

The image at the heart of Thomistic natural law is simpler than any algorithm. The light by which we discern good from evil, Aquinas writes, is the impression of divine light in us — not a preference profile, not a click-through rate, but a participation in the Logos itself.[^1] When Véliz says that the smartphone in your pocket was built to watch you, she is naming something real. But what, exactly, is being watched?

Not a data subject. A person made for something surveillance can never give.

[^1]: Nordling, William (2020). Created in the Image of God, in Vitz, Nordling & Titus, A Catholic Model of the Person. Divine Mercy University Press. [^2]: Zanotti, Gabriel. Comentario a la Suma Contra Gentiles. Annex on natural law. — 'Todo lo que le lleva al conocimiento y amor de Dios es naturalmente recto, y lo que lo aparta le es naturalmente malo.' [^3]: Zanotti, Gabriel. Comentario a la Suma Contra Gentiles. Annex on natural law. — 'Las acciones morales son las ordenadas hacia el fin del ser humano.' [^4]: John Paul II (1993). Veritatis Splendor. §42. [^5]: Zanotti, Gabriel. Economía de Mercado y Doctrina Social de la Iglesia. Section on natural law and human law. [^6]: Nordling, William (2020). Created in the Image of God, in Vitz, Nordling & Titus, A Catholic Model of the Person. Divine Mercy University Press.

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