CLEANLINESS FREAKS have a new rationale for their pathological hatred of dust--it could soon be spying on them.

Packed full of sensors, lasers and communications transceivers, particles of "smart dust" are being designed to communicate with one another. They could be used for a range of applications from weather monitoring to spying.

The tiny "motes" are being developed at the University of California, Berkeley, as part of a programme to produce the smallest possible devices that have a viable way of communicating with each other.

Each mote is made up of a number of microelectromechanical systems, or MEMS, wired up to form a very simple computer. At present each mote is 5 millimetres long, but Kris Pister, one of the developers, says that in future they could be small enough to remain suspended in air, buoyed by the currents, sensing and communicating for hours.

The latest version (see Diagram) not only has a thick-film battery powering it but also a solar cell to recharge it. "This remarkable package has the ability to sense and communicate, and is self-powered," says Randy Katz, a communications engineer on the project. He presented the latest work at last week's Mobicom99 mobile computing meeting in Seattle.

MEMS are made using the same photolithographic techniques as integrated circuits, so once perfected they should be easy to mass-produce. Patterns are etched out of a silicon wafer to create structures such as optical mirrors or tiny engines.

Each mote in a smart-dust system will need to survive on extremely low power, while being able to communicate kilobits of data per second. To this end, says Katz, the team has designed motes that shut down parts of themselves when they are not being used.

The latest challenge has been to devise a system that enables the motes to communicate. Katz and his colleagues decided to use optical transceivers because of their low energy demand compared with radio communications. According to Pister they have already shown that they can monitor the dust 21 kilometres across San Francisco Bay. "There's no way you're going to get that kind of range except with optical devices," he says.

"The base station may actually reside in a hand-held unit, much like a pair of binoculars," says Katz. This would allow for simultaneous viewing of the scene from afar while superimposing any measured data on the image. He adds that this approach could be especially useful for hazardous applications such as detecting chemical weapons or sending the dust into space.

The next task is to build distributed intelligence into the dust to produce "swarm behaviour"

Fifty years ago, a bizarre and terrifying novel went on sale in bookshops across the world. George Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four caught the imagination of millions, and in the process catapulted Big Brother into the international vocabulary. The phrase soon became shorthand for the power of the state, and it helped entire generations to express their fear of intrusion by authority.

To the digital generation, the all-seeing, all-knowing Big Brother is represented by large computer systems. Each adult in the developed world is located, on average, in 300 databases. As these databases converge with the telecommunications spectrum, nearly everyone becomes entangled in a web of surveillance enveloping everything from our bank accounts to our e-mail. To millions of people, Big Brother looms as a chilling warning about the creation of a surveillance society through information technology.

Superficially, Orwell got it wrong--1984 came and went with many of our freedoms apparently still intact. But a closer reading of the book reveals that we are nearer to Big Brother than we might imagine.

In Orwell's fictional Oceania, a mass of "telescreens," complete with microphones and speakers, watched over every square inch of public and private space. These devices, centrally monitored, began their life as public information systems and ended up policing the morals, thoughts and behavior of all citizens.

Compare this with the present day, where hundreds of thousands of cameras have been placed on buses, trains and elevators. Many people now expect to be routinely filmed from the moment they leave the front gate. Hidden cameras are being installed unhindered in cinemas, alongside roads, in bars, dressing rooms and housing estates. In the United States and Britain, visual surveillance is becoming a fixed component in the design of urban centers, housing areas, public buildings and even throughout the road system.

Soon, people will expect spy technology to be engineered into all forms of architecture and design. It is, perhaps, only a matter of time before legal and community pressures force the cameras into our homes.

Surveillance has become a design component in all information technology. The workplace is fast becoming a surveillance zone. "Electronic supervisors" analyze every minute of the working day, checking on performance rates, toilet breaks and personal activities.

Dozens of laws force us to disclose personal information that is then used for unrelated purposes. Government surveillance has infiltrated every element of our communications networks. Telecommunications companies are required by law to ensure that their equipment is "wiretap friendly." The state can do more or less as it pleases with our data in the name of law enforcement, public interest, public health, national security or national revenue.

The world of Nineteen Eighty-Four had completely eliminated the idea of anonymity--a process that is replicated in many countries today. We are obliged through an increasing number of laws and technologies to reveal our identity. Refusal to disclose your details often results in denial of service and even prosecution.

Disclosure of identity is at the heart of all technology. Earlier this year, privacy campaigners revealed that Intel's Pentium III chip contained an ID number capable of tracking the registered owner's movements around the Internet.

But the nightmare vision of Big Brother could only transpire if every entity--citizen, state and corporation--was working in partnership to achieve an alleged "common good." The world of Nineteen Eighty-Four could occur only if everyone became agents of the state.

It does not require much imagination to see such a trend. Citizens and businesses routinely are advised that they have a responsibility to support authoritarian measures. At a variety of levels, we are all expected to become partners in surveillance. And that is the crux of the Big Brother nightmare.

(Mr. Davies is a visiting fellow in the Computer Security Research Center of the London School of Economics, a specialist writer for the Daily Telegraph of London and director of the human rights group Privacy International.)

ANKARA, Turkey--When journalist Fehmi Koru went out for dinner here recently with Islamist lawmaker Nazli Ilicak, he took his cellular phone along with him as usual. An hour later, Koru got a call from a fellow journalist. "He repeated almost word for word," Koru says, "my entire conversation with Mrs. Ilicak."

Koru, an outspoken critic of the role of Turkey's staunchly pro-secular military in politics, is convinced that his cell phone was used as "a transmitter to eavesdrop on my conversation. By relaying it to a person they knew to be a close friend, they were sending me a loud and clear warning that they could follow my every move."

"They," according to Koru, are elements within the state security apparatus, who keep tabs on anyone deemed to be a threat to the Turkish state. When Koru appeared the following evening on the pro-Islamist Channel Seven television station to tell his story, the broadcast was jammed four times. When he gave up trying, the broadcast resumed uninterrupted.

Koru's experience is nothing unusual in Turkey. Over the past few months, the country has been rocked by a series of controversies nicknamed "The Big Ear Scandals" because they all involve the illegal tapping of phones.

Turkish governments have long used phone tapping to monitor political rivals as well as groups thought to be a security threat.

Privacy issues have taken center stage as Japan prepares to enact legislation allowing the police to eavesdrop on phone calls, intercept fax and computer transmissions, and read e-mail.

The draconian measures are ostensibly intended to help law enforcement halt premeditated murders, trafficking in drugs and guns, and smuggling of illegal aliens into Japan. At least that's what a bill cobbled together by the country's coalition government says.

The reality could be far more intrusive, especially after investigators receive an official green light to comb through private correspondence and communications. But the government insists that what Japan needs to restore public order is less civil liberty and more Big Brother.

People are scared. Crime--once unthinkable in Japan--is on the rise. The country's yakuza racketeers are growing increasingly bolder in their schemes as nearly a full decade of recession eats away at traditional revenue sources, such as payoffs from companies and corrupt politicians.

For law-enforcement authorities, the trouble began back in 1995 when Aum Shinrikyo cultists released sarin gas in the Tokyo subway, killing a dozen people. The cops simply never saw the attack coming, and have been agitating for greater surveillance powers as a means of preventing such nastiness from happening again.

Wiretapping is a convenient shortcut for investigators. And, as the pervasive eavesdropping of former East Bloc countries made undeniably clear, once authorities start listening it's a hard habit to break.

The Erez checkpoint is used daily by 35,000 Palestinian laborers who work in Israel but live in the Gaza Strip, which is under the control of the Palestinian Authority.

The Israelis are afraid of terrorist attacks, so the laborers are subjected to intensive security searches. Friction between Palestinians and Israeli soldiers at the checkpoint has become a source of tension.

In 1997, the American government backed a plan to develop an automated terminal at Erez that would allow large numbers of people to be checked quickly. The front-runner is the hand geometric system which is being developed by Tadiran Information Systems, an IBM subsidiary based near Tel Aviv.

Each traveler from Gaza will carry a smart card that contains personal identification information. At the checkpoint terminal, the opening screen will instruct the traveler to swipe his card through a magnetic reader and then place his hand on the scanner. Once the system has registered the details, which takes a matter of seconds, the barrier will open, allowing the traveler to pass through. On the return journey, a similar console verifies the identity of the traveler and he is allowed to pass back over the border.

The system is already in use on an experimental basis for El Al frequent flyers at Tel Aviv's Ben Gurion airport. Oded Katzir of Tadiran believes that within the next few years all of Israel's 32 border crossings will be biometrically controlled and linked in one computerized network.

"The final stage of the program will be the introduction of 1,000 police patrol units connected by radio and computer to the central border control system," says Katzir. "If they come across someone they suspect is in the country illegally, they can simply swipe his smart card through the computer in their patrol car to verify his identity, when he crossed the border and whether he has permission to remain."

It's 10 PM.--Do you know where your children are? How about your pet? Or your spouse who claims to be "working late"?

Global Positioning System technology, more commonly known as GPS, is making it easier than ever to find stolen cars or track down Fido when he gets lost.

But the system also can monitor people, a move privacy experts fear could go too far.

"The control of GPS tracking information will be a significant public policy issue several years from now," said Phil Agre, an associate professor of information studies at UCLA. "Everyone should be aware of the danger before it becomes locked in."

So far, GPS has been an invaluable tool for tracking endangered salmon, monitoring train schedules and even drawing up maps. Companies have developed GPS systems for cars that send directions to drivers based on their locations. Some even call the owner when a car "thinks" it's been stolen.

In Pontiac, Mich., non-violent prisoners wear GPS-based bracelets in lieu of serving time behind bars. Systems are also in the works to ensure Alzheimer's patients stay close to the hospital and children don't stray too far from home.

"Maybe these are benign uses, but where does it stop?" asked Agre. Agre and other privacy experts worry about misuse of the information by groups ranging from insurance companies to the FBI.

Among the scenarios feared by privacy watchdogs: Insurance companies could refuse to insure you, or charge you higher rates, unless you install a tracking system on your car. They could then tell if you drive over 55 or spend time in shady neighborhoods where your car has a greater chance of being stolen.

FBI and local police officials could have access to your whereabouts by simply logging onto a database attached to a cell phone, tollbooth or GPS tracker. New York transportation authorities have turned over records of its E-Z Pass toll, a wireless system that lets people drive through without stopping, to police during a criminal investigation.

Originally developed to help the military track wayward sailors, GPS is made up of 24 satellites, each with a clock, positioned so that three are always above the horizon. Earthbound receivers can determine the position of a person, place or thing by measuring the amount of time it takes for a signal to arrive from three of the satellites.