Faris Adani
The Worst People Alive Are Obsessed With Meta’s Video Recording Glasses
The emergence of smart glasses, particularly Meta Ray-Bans, has reignited a contentious debate surrounding privacy, public ethics, and the insidious creep of pervasive surveillance. What was once a futuristic novelty, largely confined to the realm of science fiction, has now become a readily available consumer product, unleashing a torrent of ethically dubious behaviors that exploit the technology’s capacity for discreet, always-on recording. The slang term “glasshole,” coined over a decade ago with the ill-fated Google Glass, has unfortunately found a renewed and unsettling relevance, embodying a cohort of individuals who leverage these devices to film unsuspecting strangers, often for malicious or self-serving ends.
The core appeal of smart glasses, and simultaneously their most alarming feature, lies in their ability to act as powerful, virtually invisible surveillance tools. Unlike the overt act of pointing a smartphone, smart glasses allow wearers to record their surroundings—and anyone within their line of sight—with a casual glance, blurring the lines between personal experience and public documentation. This inherent stealth has attracted a specific demographic: tech enthusiasts, burgeoning influencers, and, more disturbingly, a growing contingent of individuals whose content thrives on the non-consensual filming of others. As a recent, blood-pressure-raising exposé from *Mashable* meticulously detailed, these “glassholes” are utilizing Meta Ray-Bans and similar devices to craft moronic “prank” videos, frequently targeting and harassing women, service workers, and vulnerable populations like the homeless, all in the pursuit of fleeting internet fame and engagement. The image accompanying this discourse, depicting an individual engrossed in smart glasses, serves as a stark visual representation of this unsettling trend, where personal devices become instruments of public intrusion.
The re-emergence of this “glasshole” phenomenon draws a direct lineage from the cautionary tale of Google Glass. Launched in 2014, Google’s pioneering smart eyewear was met with a mixture of awe and apprehension. While it promised a seamless augmented reality experience, its clunky design and overt camera quickly raised widespread privacy alarms. Users, then dubbed “glassholes,” faced social ostracization, with many public establishments banning the device outright. The primary concern was the inability of others to know if they were being recorded, leading to an erosion of trust in public spaces. Google Glass ultimately flopped, partly due to its high price, limited utility, and, significantly, the overwhelming social backlash against its privacy implications. The lessons, however, appear to have been largely forgotten or willfully ignored by the latest generation of smart glass manufacturers and users.
Meta, through its collaboration with Ray-Ban, has introduced a product that is far more aesthetically integrated and less conspicuous than its Google predecessor. These glasses look, for all intents and purposes, like regular eyewear, making their recording capabilities even more insidious. The subtle indicator light meant to signal recording is often overlooked or easily obscured, rendering it ineffective as a clear warning to those being filmed. This design choice, whether intentional or not, has provided a perfect clandestine tool for those who revel in violating others’ privacy.
Among the most concerning groups to have embraced this technology are so-called “pickup artists” (PUAs). These individuals, notorious for their manipulative and often misogynistic tactics, now possess the ability to discreetly record their interactions with women they are “seducing”—a euphemism for harassing—without the subjects’ knowledge or consent. This not only constitutes a gross invasion of privacy but also creates a digital archive that can be used for public shaming, instruction for other PUAs, or simply as a trophy of their exploits, further objectifying and commodifying women for online consumption. The power imbalance inherent in these interactions is exacerbated by the hidden camera, stripping the victim of agency and the right to control their own image and narrative.
Beyond the PUA community, the broader category of internet pranksters has found a new canvas for their often-cruel antics. These creators, driven by the algorithms of platforms like TikTok and Instagram, thrive on “authentic” reactions, and smart glasses offer an unparalleled method for capturing raw, unfiltered responses. The original article highlights several egregious examples: Instagram accounts nonconsensually filming women’s posteriors, creators visiting massage parlors to ogle masseuses, and others intentionally annoying service workers, continuing to film even when explicitly asked to stop. One particularly bizarre and disturbing channel featured a man feigning mental disability to elicit reactions from unsuspecting firefighters, exploiting empathy for content. These acts are not merely annoying; they are a profound breach of social contract, exploiting trust and vulnerability for mere clicks and views.
The legality of such recordings often complicates the public’s outrage. In many public spaces, recording is generally considered legal, even in states with “two-party consent” laws for conversations, as visual recording often falls under different legal interpretations. However, as content creator Brad Podray, formerly known as Scumbag Dad, eloquently articulates to *Mashable*, the legal framework misses the crucial point: “I know it’s legal. I don’t care. That’s not the discussion. I think it’s weird and creepy, and it shows a very predatory mindset.” Podray’s statement underscores the chasm between what is legally permissible and what is ethically acceptable. The law, often slow to adapt to rapid technological advancements, struggles to keep pace with the evolving nuances of digital privacy and the social implications of ubiquitous recording devices. While a person might technically have no “reasonable expectation of privacy” in a public park, the implicit social contract of not being secretly recorded and broadcast to the world is deeply ingrained.
The psychological drivers behind this “glasshole” behavior are multifaceted. The “attention economy” of social media rewards virality, and nothing captures attention like shock, outrage, or unscripted human drama. Smart glasses provide the perfect tool to generate this content, offering a veneer of “authenticity” that staged videos lack. Creators can capture genuine confusion, anger, or discomfort, which, ironically, translates into higher engagement and, potentially, monetization. This creates a perverse incentive structure where the more outrageous or invasive the content, the greater the reward. The cost, however, is borne by the unsuspecting public, whose daily lives become fodder for someone else’s digital profit. The removal of “agency” is a critical aspect, as Podray notes: “A lot of random women walking around aren’t going to want to participate in a skit if you ask them to, so they remove the agency entirely by just running the glasses.”
The broader societal implications are profound. This trend erodes public trust, making individuals wary of seemingly innocuous interactions. Public spaces, traditionally arenas for shared experiences and spontaneous encounters, are transformed into potential surveillance zones, fostering a pervasive sense of unease. The normalization of non-consensual recording chips away at fundamental notions of personal space and autonomy. It allows individuals to be captured, categorized, and potentially exploited without their knowledge or permission, feeding into a larger societal anxiety about surveillance capitalism and the loss of personal data.
Meta, as the primary purveyor of one of the most popular smart glass products, bears a significant responsibility. While they include a small LED indicator, its effectiveness is debatable, and the company’s marketing often focuses on the seamless capture of personal moments rather than the potential for misuse. There’s an “arms race” underway among tech companies to make smart glasses ever more discreet, powerful, and potentially integrated with advanced AI features like facial recognition software. This technological progression, if unchecked, could lead to a dystopian future where every interaction is cataloged, every face identified, and every emotion analyzed, further empowering bad actors and eroding collective privacy. The possibilities of smart glasses being hacked to extract personal data further compounds these concerns.
However, public resistance is also growing. The story of a woman on the subway allegedly smashing a man’s smart glasses was met with widespread acclaim, with the woman hailed as a “hero” across social media. This incident, whether confirmed or not, symbolizes a deep-seated public frustration and a desire to reclaim personal boundaries in an increasingly surveilled world. It represents a visceral rejection of the “glasshole” mentality and a call for a return to basic human decency and respect for privacy.
As smart glasses continue to evolve and become more ubiquitous, society faces a critical juncture. The technology itself is neutral, but its application by “the worst people alive” highlights an urgent need for robust ethical guidelines, stronger regulatory frameworks, and a collective societal pushback against the erosion of privacy in public spaces. Unless concrete measures are taken, the future risks becoming one where the expectation of being secretly recorded is the norm, and the act of smashing a “glasshole’s” device becomes a desperate act of self-preservation. May smart glasses, instead of fostering a culture of voyeurism, inspire us all to champion privacy and ethical conduct in our increasingly connected world.
**More on wearables**: *A Man Bought Meta’s AI Glasses, and Ended Up Wandering the Desert Searching for Aliens to Abduct Him*
