The ACLU’s 2013 report You Are Being Tracked presents a detailed examination of how law enforcement agencies across the United States have increasingly adopted automatic license plate readers (ALPRs) to collect vast amounts of location data on millions of drivers often without meaningful oversight, regulation, or public awareness. ALPRs are high speed cameras that capture images of license plates from passing vehicles and convert them into machine-readable text. Each scan is automatically tagged with the date, time, and precise location, allowing agencies to compile detailed records of where vehicles travel and when.
While these systems are often marketed as crime-fighting tools able to help locate stolen cars or track down wanted suspects the ACLU report reveals that the overwhelming majority of data collected pertains to ordinary, law abiding people. This mass collection of innocent people’s travel information, the report argues, transforms what were once fleeting moments of public presence into a searchable history of individual movements, raising profound concerns for privacy and civil liberties.
The ACLU based its findings on over 26,000 pages of documents obtained through public records requests to law enforcement agencies in 38 states and Washington, D.C. These records exposed a patchwork of inconsistent or non-existent policies on data retention, access, and sharing. In many cases, agencies retained location data for years or indefinitely even when it had no connection to any criminal investigation. Some agencies also shared this data widely with other law enforcement bodies or private companies, without sufficient safeguards or transparency.
The report warns that, in the absence of clear regulations, ALPRs are enabling the government to monitor people’s associations, habits, and routines in ways that are incompatible with the values of a free society. It emphasizes that, while surveillance may be justified in specific investigations, the blanket collection of location data on the entire population is a dangerous expansion of state power.
To address these risks, the ACLU calls for strict limits on how ALPRs are used. It recommends that data be retained only for short periods unless it is tied to a specific, legitimate investigation; that public access and transparency around ALPR policies be guaranteed; and that the sharing of data with other entities be tightly controlled. Ultimately, the report urges policymakers to ensure that technological capabilities do not outpace constitutional protections and that Americans are not subjected to constant, silent tracking simply for driving down the street
In Australia, the use of surveillance technologies like Automatic Number Plate Recognition (ANPR) is well established and growing across both public and private sectors. These systems, which use high-speed cameras to scan and record vehicle license plates, are employed primarily by police forces in every state and territory. Their main purpose is to assist law enforcement in identifying stolen vehicles, unregistered cars, or vehicles linked to people of interest. However, much like in the United States, this technology captures data from every vehicle that passes by not just those involved in crimes.
Unlike the U.S., where the ACLU found that automatic license plate readers (ALPRs) often operate with little oversight or regulation, Australia’s use of ANPR is somewhat more controlled, although not without significant concerns. In jurisdictions like New South Wales, privacy legislation such as the Privacy and Personal Information Protection Act places certain restrictions on how long this data can be stored and who can access it. For example, data may be deleted after a fixed period such as 30 days unless it becomes relevant to a criminal investigation. However, not all states apply the same level of scrutiny or transparency to ANPR use, and there is no unified national database to coordinate or limit data-sharing between states.
During the COVID 19 pandemic, the scope of ANPR surveillance expanded noticeably. Authorities in states like Victoria and New South Wales began using these systems to monitor compliance with public health orders, including lockdown restrictions and border crossings. This raised alarms among privacy advocates, who questioned how long this data would be retained and whether it might be repurposed beyond the original emergency context.
Outside law enforcement, the private sector in Australia is also embracing ANPR technology. Shopping centres, parking garages, residential buildings, and logistics companies use it for access control, security, and operational efficiency. Although these uses are generally legal, the extent to which data is stored, shared, or sold in the private sphere is often not disclosed to the public, leading to additional concerns about transparency and consent.
One key difference between Australia and the U.S. is the absence of a centralised national surveillance database. In practice, this means a vehicle flagged in one state may not automatically trigger alerts in another. While this may reduce the potential for broad national tracking, it also highlights inconsistencies in enforcement and surveillance capabilities between states.
Despite legal protections in place, there is growing public concern in Australia over the expanding presence of ANPR cameras, particularly in urban areas where cameras are increasingly being mounted on traffic lights, street poles, and mobile units. The public has become more aware of the trade-offs between public safety and personal privacy, and civil liberties groups are beginning to echo similar calls to those made in the U.S. urging greater transparency, stricter data retention policies, and independent oversight.
In summary, while Australia’s approach to vehicle surveillance through ANPR is not as extensive or unregulated as what the ACLU describes in the United States, the same core issues are present. The steady expansion of this technology, often with limited public debate, raises important questions about how much information should be collected on ordinary citizens and what safeguards must be in place to protect personal freedoms in a digital age.
Roger Clarke’s "Covert Implementation of Mass Vehicle Surveillance in Australia" is a detailed and critical examination of how Automatic Number Plate Recognition (ANPR) technology has been introduced and expanded across Australia without sufficient public debate, transparency, or legislative safeguards. In this analysis, Clarke an influential privacy and technology scholar argues that the deployment of ANPR represents a quiet but significant step toward mass surveillance of the Australian public.
The crux of Clarke’s argument is that the implementation of ANPR in Australia has occurred largely behind closed doors. Rather than being preceded by public consultation or guided by explicit legal frameworks, the technology has been rolled out incrementally and often covertly, with minimal scrutiny or democratic oversight. Clarke describes this process as one of “function creep” where a technology introduced for a specific purpose (such as detecting unregistered vehicles) gradually evolves into a broader tool for monitoring the movements of the general population.
One of the central concerns Clarke raises is that ANPR systems do not simply scan for suspect vehicles; instead, they record the license plates, time, and location of every vehicle that passes the cameras, regardless of whether the vehicle or driver is suspected of any wrongdoing. This, he argues, creates a form of mass surveillance by default. The information captured can then be stored, aggregated, and analysed over time, building detailed movement profiles of individuals without their knowledge or consent.
Clarke is particularly critical of the role played by CrimTrac (now part of the Australian Criminal Intelligence Commission), which had proposed the creation of a national database of vehicle movements. He warns that such a system, if implemented, would amount to a centralised infrastructure capable of enabling continuous location tracking of millions of people a power that could be easily abused in the absence of strict oversight and accountability. The potential for misuse, whether by state authorities or through data breaches, raises fundamental civil liberties concerns.
The analysis also calls attention to the lack of transparency around how ANPR data is managed. Clarke notes that there is often little to no public information about how long data is retained, who has access to it, how it is shared between agencies, or whether it is ever used in non-policing contexts, such as civil litigation, insurance disputes, or protest monitoring. The lack of clarity around these issues undermines public trust and raises serious questions about privacy rights in a democratic society.
Importantly, Clarke frames these developments not as isolated technical upgrades, but as part of a broader pattern of expanding surveillance infrastructure. He draws parallels to international examples, particularly the United Kingdom, where ANPR has evolved into a near-ubiquitous system of vehicle tracking across the country. He warns that Australia could follow a similar path if legal and ethical boundaries are not firmly established now.
In conclusion, Clarke’s work serves as both a warning and a call to action. He urges policymakers, civil society, and the public to confront the implications of mass vehicle surveillance before it becomes an entrenched norm. He advocates for transparency, robust privacy protections, and legislative controls to ensure that such technologies do not erode the fundamental rights of Australians. His analysis is a reminder that surveillance, once embedded into the infrastructure of daily life, is extremely difficult to undo—and that democratic oversight must keep pace with technological capability.
The same systems in the document below are used today in Australia.
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