Digital ID Not Needed: Tesco Already Knows What We're Having for Tea

Britain values privacy, which is why we reject a single, central digital ID while authenticating our identity 37 times before breakfast.

Ministers floated the idea of one tidy credential for public services. The public politely declined, then unlocked their phones with a face, pinged a one‑time code, clicked “agree to all,” and re‑ordered exactly what last week’s purchase history predicted: fish fingers and peas by 6:42pm.

This is not hypocrisy; it is culture. We do not want one card to rule them all. We want many smaller ones, administered by grocers, parcel apps and the doorbell that films us forgetting the bins.

Technologists insist a modern ID could prove just one fact—over 18, resident, licensed—without spilling anything else. The country nods wisely, then proves everything to six different companies because it is quicker than finding the council login.

Supporters call a digital ID convenient. Critics call it linkable. The supermarket calls it “Clubcard.” Only one of these sends you a 3am notification about a discounted lasagne you were statistically destined to crave.

We are told a central ID would reduce fraud. Possibly. But it would also create a new national pastime: arguing about function creep while scanning our faces to turn on the television.

There is a compromise. Keep the state small and the proofs smaller. Let a pub door learn you are over 18 without learning your postcode. Let a clinic know you are you without copying your biography. Let the supermarket predict dinner, if we must—but do not let dinner become a passport.

In the meantime, the nation is resolute: no to one ID, yes to many cheerful ones. Privacy is precious. Points even more so.