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.

I spy

The AI wearable surveillance state hinges on good intentions masking legitimate privacy concerns.

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. And 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 New York Times 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.

On the flip side, several Meta glasses users have posted that they’re bewildered by the sudden hate. It’s not sudden, really — the smart glasses debate has reignited in recent months thanks to recent New York Times and Wired investigations, which found that Meta has been mulling over facial recognition features for the glasses. But smart glasses fans point to accessibility use cases, or the fact that they bought the glasses to film private, hands-free videos of their children, pets, or vacations. Others note that they hadn’t thought about the privacy implications at all and are now conflicted. The more indignant posters in this camp have argued that smartphones (and other gadgets) are also surveillance devices and that no one can reasonably expect privacy in public spaces.

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