Off-grid

Chapter 1: becoming invisible

When I was in one of the Army’s secret units (way) back in the day, most of my fellow operators and I were encouraged to blend in. Macho displays—favored by SEAL Teams and others—were discouraged. Moving through airports and embassies, we strove to look like boring businessmen. We even had a clothing allowance to purchase three-piece suits in dark gray or navy, and we had to read “Dress for Success.” When we were using official covers, we didn’t want to stand out. We had three modes of dress: slick, smooth, and rough. Slick was the suit. Smooth was office wear, slacks, leather shoes, and a shirt with a collar. Rough was jeans and plain-colored T’s or flannel with hiking boots or running shoes. Blending in for any occasion. Attention was the enemy. This was before society was enveloped in today’s comprehensive electronic surveillance grid, a grid force-multiplied by a virtual culture of attention-greed. Becoming unremarkable and going off the surveillance grid is even harder now, but it can be done.

If I were, hypothetically, thirty or forty years younger, and wanted to do so, here is how I’d do it.

First, I’d attend to my appearance. If I had tattoos that showed when I was dressed, I’d remove or cover them. If I had a noticeable gym-bod or was morbidly obese, I’d lay off the weights or lay off the meat and sugar, and bring myself into what I’ll call the Goldilocks Range of Disregard (just right). I’d study the most common apparel for my age and in my particular environment, and I’d choose my wardrobe to hit the unnoticeable center. I’d drive the most common kind of car in the most common color. You get the picture. Sink into the average. Don’t be a bluejay or even a robin. Be a sparrow.

In day-to-day interactions with people I didn’t know, I’d be quiet and minimally courteous with limited eye contact. Don’t make them notice me for my friendliness. Don’t make them notice me for being rude. Don’t give them that jolt we feel when we meet the eyes of another. Don’t stare at others. Move neither too briskly nor too slowly. Be as forgettable as possible.

My social life would be limited to the most normal and benign of activities. Carting kids around, going to work, going to church, taking walks or runs, things like that. The limits on that social life would be anything that risks a spotlight. No big public events, no public drinking, no drugs, no activity that attracts the attention of cops or nosy neighbors. My life would become one big alibi.

(In a subsequent post, I’ll talk about non-technical communication, which is immersed into these regular activities.)

Now, about that electronic grid. I’d continue my regular routines, but I’d begin to learn where every CCTV security camera was in every environment. Then I’d map them and make little circles around them to distinguish covered areas from blind spots. I’d assume every indoor environment was covered. Just to know, because the blind spots are potential off-grid avenues.

Of course, CCTV is just the outside looking in. The easiest way for whomever to track your movements and monitor your communications are computers, like the one you’re reading this on right now, and that electronic leash you carry around.

Need I say it, social media is like having CCTV inside your house, and the way many of us use it is like opening your curtains for Peeping Toms. If I wanted to go underground, I’d taper off, until I was engaged only in benign everyday interactions with friends and family (going completely off is a red flag). If I absolutely had to use search engines for anything more risky than recipes for cinnamon rolls, I’d get a good VPN and run that through a Tor browser (I did this even to research my last novel, because I wanted to know more about stuff that would red light the N$A.) I’d assume that my every keystroke was being recorded.

If I carry my phone, I’m sending my location out in real time. This is good when I’m living the alibi. Not when I don’t want to be tracked. Guess what? I can still be tracked when the phone is off. I need to leave it in order to go invisible. And if I own a late model car, chances are it has built-in GPS tracking as an anti-theft protection. My routes need to pass through the CCTV blind spots, and if they can’t the car needs a cover story (something I’ll discuss in another post) and if I’m on foot, a good hat or cap (one that blends in) is my friend.

Anyone who watches TV now knows that using plastic for any purchase puts me on the grid.

NEXT TIME: Cover stories.

ta ta