Video survellance cameras record Philadelphians withdrawing money from the bank, waiting for the train, even buying a soda at Wawa. Ironically, the government can now watch us from Independence Hall. Is all this security worth the encroachment on our privacy?

Next time you walk down Chestnut Street in Old City, look carefully at the clock tower looming over Independence Hall. In the same tower where the clock's bell is held, the National Park Service has installed a herculean video camera. Privacy advocates fear, however, that similar cameras do more to erode personal security than enhance it.

As a major symbol of the United States, Independence Hall is also considered a prime target for terrorists. It makes sense to implement tight security. But average Philadelphians probably don't realize that by simply cutting across Independence Mall, on the way to catch a film at the Bourse or meet friends for a dinner at Paradigm, their movements are probably being monitored by the federal government.

Last week's U.S. missile attack in Iraq has led to heightened security in places vulnerable to terrorism, such as Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell. But Park Service officials aren't talking about it.

"The Park Service is charged with the responsibility of protecting the resources of both the grounds and the buildings on Independence Mall," says Park Service spokesperson Phil Sheridan. "We do have a 24-hour camera in place, but we don't discuss security or how it is structured."

Divulging specifics could compromise existing security, explains Elaine Sevy, deputy chief for public affairs for the National Park Service, headquartered in Washington. "After the Oklahoma City bombing, we have a responsibility to protect citizens," she says. "Our goal is to protect citizens, not to spy on them."

When approached, park rangers patrolling Independence Hall told City Paper they are forbidden to discuss security matters. In the next breath, however, a few of them spewed out an earful.

One ranger said the camera has been in place for about a year. The picture resolution is good enough to distinguish facial features or read newspaper print from as far away as 200 yards. The camera rests on a "gimbal mount," allowing it to pivot between horizontal and vertical shots. Remotely, the camera can zoom in on people or activity that park officials find suspicious.

Until last week, the camera's casing was off-white and the lens was pointed north out of Independence Hall's clock tower. Very recently, however, the camera's casing was painted over in black—making it less conspicuous—and the lens adjusted to point downward, directly onto the roof of Independence Hall or possibly onto the 500 block of Chestnut Street.

If you peer up at the bell tower, you can just barely see it, dangling from the top of the structure like a Christmas ornament. The long distance makes the camera appear no larger than a lunchbox thermos. But if you gaze at it through binoculars, its lens looks to be about three feet long.

One park ranger said the tapes are monitored several blocks away at National Park Service headquarters, located at Fourth and Walnut Streets. "When the bell rings on the hour, you can see the image go crazy from the vibrations," this ranger laughed, wildly shaking his hands from side to side to demonstrate his point.

A few days later, another park ranger said tape is not rolling 24 hours a day inside the camera. "It uses a motion detector… so when the camera senses someone around the building, that's when it begins recording."

When this happens, park service employees who monitor the tapes radio park police. Officers then check out the area and determine what tripped the motion detector.

It is not just the National Park Service that uses outdoor surveillance cameras in Philadelphia. The plot of the recently released movie Enemy of the State may seem beyond the realm of possibility, but actually, the watchful eye of a video surveillance camera is pointed at you more often than you realize.

On a typical day, your image may be captured on film a dozen times—when you walk by a hotel, an ATM, a parking lot and some post office branches. The use of indoor cameras is so common you can't avoid it when stopping at Wawa for a pack of cigarettes or waiting for the train at any SEPTA subway stop. The University of Pennsylvania plans to install security cameras throughout campus, despite protests from some students and faculty.

"The courts have come down on this issue, ruling that cameras are just recording what people see anyway," points out Larry Frankel, director for the Philadelphia chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union.

Currently, because of how the courts have ruled, it is not the legality or constitutionality of videotaping in public that is cause for concern. But with more sophisticated and intrusive technologies in the pipeline, future decisions could lean in a different direction.

Right now, the matter is one of personal privacy. The questions are: What does the government do with the tapes? Does it view the footage and analyze the contents? Does it search for specific people on the tapes and track their comings and goings? Does the government recycle the tapes as quickly as every 24 hours or hang on to them for as long as 30 days?

About $1 billion per year is spent on electronic security camera systems, according to the Security Industry Association in Alexandria, VA.

But privacy-rights advocates draw a thick line in the sand between indoor security cameras and the government eye tracking Philadelphians as they saunter down a major thoroughfare. Should we accept government surveillance on a public street in a major American city? Is it transforming a symbol of freedom—the building where the bell rung out in 1776 to proclaim national sovereignty—into a symbol of oppression?

"Part of the attraction of being in a big city is the sense of anonymity," Frankel says. "It is the ability to go places where no one sees you. Suddenly, you go places and you are being recorded. People are troubled by that."

It is almost as if the United States lost the Cold War, civil libertarians assert.

"I thought we defeated Communism," Frankel wryly notes. "We ranted and raved about the Soviets spying on citizens. Now, in the name of public safety, we are doing the same thing."

People have a way of becoming lulled into believing invasive security cameras are for the public's own good and we shouldn't question them, asserts Philadelphia civil rights attorney David Rudovsky.

"Are we slowly traveling down the road of a 1984 scenario?" he wonders. "When we arrive there, it may be too late to turn back the clock. Now is the time to be asking questions."

Although it is "perfectly legal" for the government to install cameras in a public area, there should be a process for residents to express their views on plans to do so—similar to the process when a city zones for a public park or new roadway, privacy experts say.

Rotenberg is particularly concerned about the fate of tapes once a recording is made.

"Often, agencies say they will only keep the tapes for 24 hours or a week, but I'm uneasy about these assurances," he says. "The cost of storage technology is falling rapidly. And as it falls, we may see a greater willingness on the parts of these agencies to hold on to tapes longer."

Like a tide slowly but steadily washing away the shore, government surveillance cameras chip away at Americans' freedom of expression and freedom of association. When surveillance systems are routinely set up to record labor union rallies and anti-government gatherings, they will have "a chilling effect" on our rights, charges David Banisar, policy director for EPIC.

"I foresee a single, central location for dozens or even hundreds of government cameras," Banisar predicts.

It may sound Orwellian now, but at some point, video surveillance cameras may be networked—much like computers are today. This would allow hundreds of videos to be viewed from a central, remote location.

Because high-powered lenses have made face recognition possible, even from hundreds of yards away, more privacy intrusions are likely. In the not-so-distant future, the government will be capable of running facial images through a database of people, identifying the person and then monitoring him, Banisar speculates.

And considering that Independence Mall is a popular spot for protest rallies and political demonstrations, Banisar's concerns are close to the lives of typical Philadelphians.

Evan Hendricks, editor of the Washington-based Privacy Times newsletter, acknowledges that terrorism poses a threat to Independence Hall. But, he adds, large organizations will look for any excuse to install a camera. He is particularly critical of the government's covert use of video surveillance.

"If the National Park Service wants to deter terrorism, it should be advertising the fact that there is a camera and telling everyone how long it maintains the information," he says. "I'm concerned about personal privacy and the chance that the government is using the camera for other purposes."

Privacy advocates also raise the possibility that the government would use the tapes "creatively." Images caught on videotape are characterized as the gospel truth when police officers and prosecutors can use them to their advantage. But when an image condemns law enforcement agents, they may claim the cameras failed to record an earlier skirmish that provoked the attack.

The sensational tapes show police Officer Thomas Dorsey striking picnic attendee Fred Martin in front of thousands of witnesses in Fairmount Park. Martin never came forward with his side of the story, but he allegedly hit a police lieutenant with a bottle. If that action provoked Dorsey and led to the melee, it was not caught on tape. After interviewing more than 150 witnesses, no one could substantiate the bottle allegation.

While a political movement protesting the widespread use of public video cameras is just now getting underway in the United States, the British have been raging against the phenomenon for years. About 120 towns in the United Kingdom use video surveillance. More than 100,000 cameras watch street corners, parking lots, housing projects and municipal buildings in Great Britain.

Some protesters there have attempted to undermine cameras by brazenly smashing them. Others have taken the more subtle tack of repeatedly prancing in front of the lens in an attempt to annoy the human monitor.

But not everyone is troubled by the thought of being the subject of government glare. Unless you truly have something to hide, some people discern, you should be grateful for the security that cameras potentially offer.

Carriage ride?" Paul Kramer tries to tempt tourists scurrying across Chestnut Street to be chauffeured around in his horse-drawn buggy. He spots a family bundled against the cold and tosses them his pitch. "Fifteen dollars for the three of ya."

For the past six months, Kramer has spent his days in full view of the camera dangling from Independence Hall. He takes a sanguine approach to its presence.

"I first noticed the camera a few months ago," he recalls. "It doesn't bother me. If anything, it may be rolling at a good time—when there's a robbery or an accident."

Maria Cancelosi lives in Cherry Hill and works in the Curtis Center, on the southwest side of Independence Mall. Although she walks through the park daily, Cancelosi was unaware of the surveillance camera. Upon finding out, she says it actually makes her feel safer. "Parks are known to be dangerous," she says. "Late at night, there could be bums and shady characters in here. When you think about Philly, you've got to think about your safety."

Kramer and Cancelosi are not alone in taking the proliferation of surveillance cameras for granted.

"Videotaping has been happening so slowly and so incrementally over several years now that it has become acceptable by a fait accompli," Hendricks says.

According to the Web site for Security Magazine, about 60 percent of businesses and agencies plan to purchase even more equipment than they did last year. About the same amount will spend more on upgrading systems. And 30 percent say they will spend more on in-house staff and overhead, also up compared with last year.

A survey by SDM Magazine, which covers the security dealer sector, confirms the high attraction of commercial, corporate and government users to closed circuit television (CCTV) surveillance. In the SDM 1998 Industry Forecast, dealers report that while CCTV revenues are substantially smaller than the sale of burglar alarms, CCTV growth is much stronger.

What was once a relatively rare sight outside high-security-risk buildings such as banks, is now nearly as common as traffic lights. The driving force behind this surveillance boom is undoubtedly advances in technology. The cumbersome and obvious monochrome cameras of the 1980s have been elbowed aside by more compact, affordable and reliable solid-state cameras. The advent of fiber optic cable and microwave links have also revolutionized picture transmission. High-quality images may be sent by wire or through the air over virtually any distance.

Residents of Manhattan are being secretly videotaped on public streets by thousands of hidden surveillance cameras, according to a study released Dec. 14 by the New York Civil Liberties Union.

NYCLU volunteers scoured the borough and discovered 2,380 surveillance cameras focused on public areas. It can be assumed that others exist but were hidden.

"Someone is watching where you're going and what you're doing," NYCLU Director Norman Seigel told the New York Times.

There is no reason to believe that Philadelphia is any different. Outside courthouses, post offices, insurance companies and parking garages, video surveillance cameras are pointed at you walking down the street.

Operators of these cameras insist that the safety benefits outweigh any erosion to personal privacy. But the statistics don't necessarily support that theory.

In the past, several U.S. cities have installed surveillance cameras, only to ultimately abandon them as ineffective and intrusive.

The presence of surveillance cameras in Times Square led to only 10 arrests before they were dismantled after 22 months. Closer to home, Atlantic City experimented with using video cameras before determining that they produced no arrests.

Last fall, a Rittenhouse Square civic group—the Rittenhouse Police Partnership—explored the possibility of funding surveillance cameras in that community. Though it is one of the safest neighborhoods in the city, activists wanted an extra crime deterrent. The Philadelphia Police Department nixed the idea when it determined that the cost of monitoring the tapes would be prohibitive.

Some major cities can boast of significant crime reductions as a result of video surveillance. Cameras installed by Baltimore's police department survey every square foot of a historic 16-block area near the city's Inner Harbor and Camden Yards baseball stadium. From their roost 15 feet above street level, 16 cameras allow police in a nearby kiosk to monitor the comings and goings of the neighborhood. Residents are monitored as they participate in the great American pastime of watching baseball, and as they negotiate with the fishmongers and farmers at the Lexington Market.

Police in Tacoma, WA, pioneered the use of urban surveillance in the United States. In 1993, cameras were mounted in one drug- and prostitution-infested neighborhood. Videotapes helped police make 55 arrests during the first three months of the program.

While technology advances and lower prices have made it easier for the Philadelphia Police Department to integrate video surveillance into crime-fighting efforts, these efforts are very targeted.

Video surveillance technology is used in only about 1 percent of all department investigations, according to spokesperson Capt. Linda MacLaughlin. "But it is certainly an important and often critical element of longer-term investigations, and is used when other techniques fail or when we need an evidentiary record of association or access."

"Random" videotaping is too costly to be practical, and the department does not use 24-hour video surveillance on a regular basis anywhere in the city (aside from monitoring the street outside of the Police Administration Building on Race Street).

There are exceptions, however. On Dec. 11, a Philadelphia police sergeant, two police officers and a civilian were arrested for stealing parts from an auto impound lot and reselling them. The bust could not have been accomplished without the help of video surveillance cameras, which captured the four men entering the cars, the police department says.

As the number of cameras continues to mushroom in the absence of clear federal guidelines, state lawmakers are weighing in on the issue. Although a bill died in the judiciary committee, legislation introduced in the Pennsylvania Senate would have prohibited videotaping by businesses and employers in places where there is a "reasonable expectation of privacy."

Privacy advocates in New Jersey had more success last week, when state lawmakers there passed legislation banning clothing stores from recording customers in dressing rooms. The basic right to privacy while trying on clothes seems obvious, but apparently not to store owners.

"Cameras provide an illusion of safety," charges Suzanne Smith, legal program administrator for the Baltimore chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union. "Evidence supports the position that all they do is deter crime on the particular corner [where they are installed], but not half a block up. Cameras are not going to prevent people from being mugged or raped."

If you are standing in a public place, you shouldn't expect to be sheltered from anyone watching you with a "naked eye," Smith acknowledges. "But when cameras start zooming in and following people around, that surpasses the boundary."