There is a hint of the superhero in the Twitter bio of Edward Snowden, self-exiled privacy campaigner and Glasgow University rector. “I used to work for the government,” he introduces himself. “Now I work for the public.”

If that line does not call to mind the swish of a cape then I’ll eat a DVD of The Dark Knight Rises. Impressive as it is, to be truly up with the times Mr Snowden might want to consider changing his bio to four little words. I. Told. You. So.

Two years ago, the former CIA contractor blew the whistle on the security services mass collection of data from the public. On Wednesday, the British government admitted this was true. Under a programme so secret not even all at MI5 were privy, it emerged people you do not know have been hauling in data about phone calls for at least ten years. You did not give permission. You do not know how the data was, or will be, used. You will never know. In addition, GCHQ has been going fishing in pools of internet messages. Upset about any of this? Who you gonna call - Ghostbusters? Or will that call too be logged?

That the UK Government asked for and was given such data from communications companies under the 1984 Telecommunications Act, and that this action was not disclosed to the public, is an extraordinary admission. In any other week it would likely have caused a mass clatter as jaws everywhere hit the ground. Even those who prefer to err on the side of optimism when it comes to the security services, believing they ultimately act for the public good, must today feel rather uneasy that the public is only being told this now.

This is not, however, just any other week. It is the week in which the government published its Investigatory Powers Bill. The aim, in the words of Theresa May, the Home Secretary, is to “bring together all of the powers available to law enforcement and the security and intelligence agencies to acquire communications and communications data and make them subject to enhanced, consistent safeguards”. In short, to update the range and nature of investigatory powers for the internet age and add safeguards to prevent abuses of power. Sounds reasonable enough, does it not?

In a week when it is suspected a bomb was to blame for the loss of a Russian airliner full of tourists over Egypt, any move to intercept the planning of a terrorist outrage seems not just reasonable but welcome and essential. If anyone needed fresh proof that global terrorism is always with us, the loss of the Russian Airbus 321, flying from Sharm el-Sheikh to St Petersburg, is surely it. The incident showed, too, what a small world we live in, one that is growing smaller by the hour. What happened over Egypt on Saturday has led Britain to suspend flights to Sharm el-Sheikh, a popular choice among Scots holidaymakers, until at least today due to concerns over security at the resort’s airport.

If the internet has expanded the ability of terrorists to wreak death and mayhem it would seem reasonable that the powers of security services should also be widened. There is that word again, reasonable. The R word inevitably overshadows any discussion of the state’s powers. If it is the duty of the state to protect us, then it would seem reasonable to give it the tools to do the job. At what point, however, is it reasonable to stop being so reasonable? Reason implies being co-operative and fair-minded. But one has to be assured that this give and take is just that. We give consent to data being accessed in certain circumstances, on the understanding that it is necessary. In return, the security services have to prove to an independent authority that it is indeed necessary. This, for all the many pages published this week, is the deal set out in Ms May’s Bill.

One does not have to travel far, however, to see the possible flaws in this plan. Grab your coat and get your hat and follow me as far as the front page of this newspaper yesterday. There, under the headline “Police chief in spy row” you will have read Investigations Editor Paul Hutcheon’s story about Neil Richardson, senior police officer and one of the candidates to become the country’s next chief constable.

Mr Richardson is responsible for Police Scotland’s Counter Corruption Unit (CCU). The CCU, like all police bodies, was meant to comply with new rules, introduced in March, which required police forces to seek judicial approval before using spying laws to obtain details of emails, phone records and texts to determine a journalist’s source. The set-up is similar to that proposed by the UK Government yesterday - information may be sought, but only if a judge approves. So far, so reasonable.

In July, however, the Interception of Communications Commissioner’s Office (IOCCO) - the watchdog for the system - announced that two UK forces had committed “serious” breaches of the new rules. The Sunday Herald found out Police Scotland was one of the forces in question and, not unreasonably, wanted to confirm this officially and discover more. Instead of providing further information, neither the Scottish Government nor Police Scotland would even confirm Police Scotland was under investigation. Now, after months of delay, the IOCCO is preparing to publish its findings into the matter.

The case of Police Scotland and the IOCCO shows what can happen when good intentions meet institutional reality. The rules were changed to protect journalists’ sources, a long held and accepted convention in a democracy, but the rules were breached. The watchdog found out that violations had occurred, yet it did not name the forces in question.

The system was in place for abuses to be identified but it did not work to its fullest extent because the transgressors were not named. It was only through the efforts of a newspaper that anyone knew Police Scotland was one of the forces that had committed the breaches. Now that the IOCCO has a new commissioner, it is expected that what the Sunday Herald disclosed months ago will finally be confirmed. Alice, dear Alice, would surely find her head spinning in such a wonderland.

Those who are concerned about any extension of the state’s powers to scan our communications will be accused of seeing Big Brother around every corner when in reality the security services only want to be a watchful mother, heading off problems before they occur.

It is true, we do not know the extent to which serious crimes are being detected and our safety ensured because someone, somewhere, is keeping an eye on things. That does not mean, however, that we should not watch the watchers as closely as possible. The history of the security services in this country when it comes to disclosure is one of half a step forward, four back. Witness, for example, this week’s revelation about phone data. If we did not know of a programme of such magnitude, one wonders, one worries, what else is going on in the gloom.