The best way to introduce this book is to quote the first sentence of the blurb: “Techno-Fix challenges the pervasive belief that technological innovation will save us from the dire consequences of the 300-year fossil-fuelled binge known as modern industrial civilization“. Stinging, provocative, and radical, Techno-Fix puts its fingers on many a sore spot with its searing critique.
Techno-Fix: Why Technology Won’t Save Us or the Environment, written by Michael Huesemann and Joyce Huesemann, published by New Society Publishers in September 2011 (paperback, 435 pages)
You might ask why, in 2021, I would bother reviewing a book published ten years ago. Both for the prosaic reason that I have had this book for some years without reading it, and because I am working on a little something that I cannot divulge yet. Plus, as it turns out, because this book is still relevant despite having been published in 2011.
The Huesemanns, Michael a biotechnologist with an interest in sustainability, Joyce an academic and activist, pull no punches in Techno-Fix. Our technology has brought us tremendous affluence and a world population growth spurt, but it also has unintended consequences that are both unavoidable and unpredictable. Some examples discussed here are climate change resulting from the generation of energy, the unknown effects of most synthetic chemicals, the pollution accompanying industrial activities, or the way the introduction of the car reshaped the world.
Even more outspoken is their statement that most technology is exploitative, abusing ecosystems, animals, and other humans. The industrial and globalised nature of much technology blunts us to this by creating distance in either space or time between exploiter and exploited. Do you know where your stuff comes from and who made it? Do you have a care for the planet your grandchildren will inherit? With the same fury that would later characterise Abundant Earth, the authors speak of the human domination of nature and the brainwashing by television and other mass media. The frequent references to TV might seem outdated given how online social media has ballooned in the last decade, but it has arguably not changed the beast much. And where free-market trade does not get us the needed resources, “high-tech military technology plays a key role in ensuring the continued exploitation and control of natural resources that are essential to maintaining the materialistic consumer lifestyle” (p. 68). Theirs is a bleak outlook on our modern society indeed.
“”high-tech military technology plays a key role in ensuring the continued exploitation and control of natural resources that are essential to maintaining the materialistic consumer lifestyle” (p. 68). Theirs is a bleak outlook on our modern society indeed.”
Surely, new technology can fix the problems old technology created? To the Huesemanns, counter-technologies such as geo-engineering schemes are like handing you another spade as you are digging your own grave—they come with their own unintended consequences. Furthermore, they write, efficiency gains (e.g. dematerialisation) have their limits and are often followed by increased consumption, a phenomenon known as the Jevons paradox. Ironically, despite increased affluence in the developed world, psychological research shows that happiness and well-being have not increased. Instead, we are stuck on a hedonic treadmill, furiously desiring ever more. The profit motive behind most technological developments results in solutions that benefit corporations and their shareholders, not the public at large.
Since these drawbacks are known, why does the belief in technological progress persist? The authors draw parallels between religious faith and techno-optimism, with the latter rising as the former waned. Furthermore, seemingly objective practices such as risk assessments and cost-benefit analyses are skewed towards continued technological development, downplaying or neglecting externalized costs. Finally, they take serious issue with the uncritical acceptance of new technologies due to the widespread belief that progress is inevitable and that technology is value-neutral, i.e. just a tool that can be used for good or evil.
Up to this point, much of what they write resonates with me, but I found their proposed solutions a mixed bag, strongly disagreeing with some of it. Since we cannot hex our way out of our problems with more technology, we need, I agree, a paradigm shift. They draw an interesting parallel with Kuhn’s book The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Just as scientific dogmas disappear not because minds are changed but because the old guard dies, future generations will change the way we live. Current generations will, by and large, be too set in their ways, too unwilling to give up their affluence. Plus, expect pushback from industries and corporations that stand to lose the most.
“To the Huesemanns, counter-technologies […] are like handing you another spade as you are digging your own grave—they come with their own unintended consequences.”
I think it should be stressed at this point that the Huesemanns are not technophobes advocating a return to the caves (although some of what they say is not far off). Technology has a role to play if it is employed more responsibly. To avoid stepping off the Seneca Cliff into wholesale collapse, they envision a transition to a steady-state economy that acknowledges planetary boundaries (some Planetary Accounting might help) and practises long-term sustainability.
The latter would require three things. First, 100% renewable energy generation. This, they admit, brings its own share of problems, one of which they remarkably do not even mention: the need for a vast infrastructure constructed from non-renewable materials. Speaking of which, second, we need to use renewable resources exclusively and phase out non-renewable resources, or fully recycle them where this is not possible. Other than the difficulties—if not impossibility—of finding replacements for most non-renewable resources (including basic ones such as all metals), they pass over the fact that materials cannot be endlessly recycled, requiring a constant input of virgin material. Third, waste can only be discharged at rates than can be assimilated by ecosystems, and those that cannot be biodegraded (read: most synthetic chemicals) should be discontinued. They acknowledge that, clearly, this would require a sea change in our attitudes: a society that embraces self-limitation rather than unfettered abundance. All of this is necessary, I agree, but it also seems almost unimaginable. If the COVID-19 pandemic has revealed one thing, it is how willingly people will relinquish liberties and accept restrictions imposed upon them.
There were a further three issues raised here that I mildly to strongly disagree with. First, they are justifiedly very critical of the corruption of medicine by the so-called medico-industrial complex, specifically pharmaceutical companies. Rather, we should focus on prevention and lifestyle changes (sure), accept the inevitability of death (agreed), and embrace holistic medicine (hmmm). Once they start talking of the power of placebo effects and the body’s innate ability to heal itself I become a bit uneasy. There is a kernel of truth in there but, in my opinion, you are at the top of the slide that reads “pseudoscience this way”. Second, they appear to contradict themselves by stressing the importance of efficiency in saving precious resources but also wanting things to go small-scale and local again, holding up organic agriculture as a shining example (something of which I am sceptical). You cannot have it both ways, we scale up production processes for more than just profitability. Third, they surprisingly really have it in for genetic engineering. Other than completely ignoring the pervasiveness of horizontal gene transfer (one could say nature invented genetic modification billions of years before we did), they are unwilling to acknowledge it will be one of the necessary tools to keep feeding the world, deal with the impact of climate change on crops, or that we can take the best of both approaches.
“the Huesemanns are not technophobes advocating a return to the caves (although some of what they say is not far off). Technology has a role to play if it is employed more responsibly.”
The Huesemanns acknowledge human overpopulation at several points: “More people generally translate into more problems” (p. 44) and unless “the size of the human population [is] stabilized and reduced, and the materialistic consumer lifestyle largely abandoned, there is little chance that our environmental problems will be solved” (p. 83). This is more than most authors do. Shame, then, that they do not dedicate a chapter to the thorny questions of whether we should control world population, what population size is optimal for the planet, and how many children to have (if any).
Instead, their last chapter felt to me like barking up the wrong tree. It calls for “critical science” (sensu Ravetz), which would stand in opposition to current scientific practice. Scientists need to take responsibility for their work, refuse dubious research financed by corporations, and abandon the excuse that they are not responsible for the end-uses. These are some really good points, but to put the onus almost completely on scientists struck me as, frankly, ridiculous. Some of their claims here really irked me. People choose this profession because of the relatively good income? Or the claim on page 329 that scientists and engineers do not really mind that problems are not solved as it guarantees their long-term employment? I normally hear a related version of that argument from climate-change deniers. I do not know what planet the authors live on, but my personal experience in academia showed me a world where you routinely work 60 to 80 hours a week on grant money or (if you are really lucky) a 40-hour contract while chasing short-term projects (known as PhD and postdoc positions) well into your forties before having a shot at a permanent position. When conditions are this exploitative it is no wonder many choose the job security and decent income offered by companies. If you want to keep scientists out of the clutches of well-paid corporate jobs and have them act as whistle-blowers you will have to properly reward and protect them, something only briefly acknowledged here.
In light of my criticism, would I recommend Techno-Fix? Yes, there is much I thoroughly agree with here. I applaud the authors for tabling controversial ideas and challenging readers with probing questions and assignments in an appendix. Furthermore, the book is thoroughly researched and annotated, very readable (including regular, useful summaries), and still relevant.
Other recommended books mentioned in this review:
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Not long after posting my review of Can Democracy Work? I received an email from Dr Roslyn Fuller: since I had mentioned her book In Defence of Democracy, would I be interested in reviewing it? And so, a parcel arrived at Inquisitive Biologist HQ my living room with two books, with Beasts and Gods providing valuable background reading to In Defence of Democracy.
Many people feel disenchanted with politics, but can you really articulate why? Bar a select few politically engaged individuals I know (I am not one of them), most of us remain stuck in conspiratorial grumblings at the pub about corrupt politicians. Published in 2015, Beasts and Gods lays bare how modern democracies are invariably broken, examines democracy in ancient Athens, and asks what we can learn from them.
Beasts and Gods: How Democracy Changed its Meaning and Lost its Purpose, written by Roslyn Fuller, published by Zed Books in November 2015 (paperback, 414 pages)
Fuller is the director of the Solonian Democracy Institute which researches alternative democratic practices. She is particularly fascinated by Athenian democracy. After all, they invented this whole democracy thing – the ancient Greek word demokratia means people power. Though you might be surprised just how much their ideas and practices differed from ours.
When we say “democracy”, we tend to think of elections. The Athenians ended up ditching these in favour of taking all decisions by themselves. Astonishingly, assembly meetings, which formed the heart of Athenian democracy, were typically attended by a constantly rotating cast of 5000-6000 people, some 10-20% of the eligible population. And these meetings were not an occasional but a weekly occurrence where anyone could speak to the assembled to put forth their ideas. There were officials to keep this and other processes running, but they were appointed annually at random by a glorified Lotto machine, a cleroterion, complete with coloured balls. The best part? Because frequent mass participation was obviously a time consuming though highly valued activity, people were paid for their participation. Seems crazy? Perhaps, says Fuller, but it worked.
Now look at us, she writes. What we call “representative democracy”, where we elect politicians to make decisions for us, is, at best, a symbolic democracy, but more often closer to an oligarchy, a rule of the few.
“When we say “democracy”, we tend to think of elections. The Athenians ended up ditching these in favour of taking all decisions by themselves.”
First, take that “representative” part. Every vote counts, right? Sure, but as Fuller shows, not every vote matters. And this is especially true of the electoral system known as first-past-the-post voting, used in the US, the UK, Canada, and India. She shows how votes can be wasted. How the way they are totted up per district often results in a disconnect between the actual number of votes a political party receives overall (the popular vote) and how seats in a parliament are allotted, meaning parties that lose the popular vote can still win elections. And how politicians are actively gaming the system by manipulating the boundaries of voting districts through the practice of gerrymandering (for those interested, CGP Grey did a great series of explanatory videos on this). Other democratic voting systems (single transferable vote and several proportional voting systems) examined here are less inaccurate but still imperfect: the number of elected politicians is simply too small to accurately reflect the population. And that is just the beginning.
A large part of the book goes on to show that this small number of politicians has another drawback: it offers a multi-faceted pressure point for those with money. Political campaigns are largely financed by corporate backers in return for favours: favourable tax regimes, lax environmental or public health regulations – you do not have to look hard for scandals. And what of participatory tools for the average voter such as petitions, protests, or visits and letters to representatives? Next to a readily-ignored facade, they are drowned out by corporate interests. Non-governmental organisations (NGOs)? Bar your Oxfam or Greenpeace who do genuine good, most are, in Fuller’s words, umbrella organisations for corporate interests or privately funded think tanks, offering another channel for the wealthy to lobby and influence governments.
“The disproportionate influence of wealth extends further up still into international spheres, to the point that “private financiers [can] reduce whole nations to a condition not much different to indentured servitude“”
This disproportionate influence of wealth extends further up still into international spheres. The United Nations, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank were formed to stabilise the global economy after two world wars and an economic depression. But their imperfect implementation has generated another lever for vested interests to influence who gets international loans and what strings are attached to them, to the point that “private financiers [can] reduce whole nations to a condition not much different to indentured servitude“.
And so we have ended up with a system where money begets power, and power begets money, resulting in increasing economic inequality and a disenfranchised electorate that is given the “privilege” of token votes in elections. You will probably have heard people grumble along these lines or grumble along those lines yourself. Even so, my usual response used to be one of: “Really? That sounds very cynical and borderline conspiracy theory”.
The power of Beasts and Gods is twofold here. First, in plain English devoid of hyperbole, it clarifies that the situation is indeed as bad as it seems. But more importantly, it proposes solutions, specifically by re-examining Athenian democracy. Though there are aspects we would not want to emulate in our times (only men with Athenian citizenship were allowed to participate, for example), their system had a key benefit. Mass participation meant that power was too diffuse to be bought by the wealthy. But how would mass-participation work when countries now have tens to hundreds of millions of voters?
“We have ended up with a system where money begets power, and power begets money, resulting in increasing economic inequality and a disenfranchised electorate that is given the “privilege” of token votes in elections.”
Fuller envisions a digital democracy where the internet would enable everyone to participate, and she provides examples of existing initiatives of participatory budgeting and online citizens’ assemblies to show how this is already happening. Part of me reflexively responds by linking to Mark Manson’s essay The World Is Fucked and I’m Pretty Sure It’s the Internet’s Fault whose sharp observation that “when you give the average person an infinite reservoir of human wisdom, they will not Google for the higher truth that contradicts their own convictions” puts a damper on this kind of online optimism. But maybe it is me who is too cynical now – let’s not beat it until we have tried it, it cannot be worse than what we have now.
Fuller sees two major obstacles: mass media and economic inequality. The former are currently in the deep pockets of those same vested interests, in case you were wondering where some of the money goes. And Fuller refers to the perhaps unsurprising research that shows just how easily people’s opinions can be influenced by simply repeating a message often enough. The latter can be overcome by enforcing existing tax laws and by capping people’s income. I mean, how much money do you need? One further obstacle that occurred to me, but that is not addressed here: existing laws. None of this will be easy or quick. But, Fuller reminds us, the Athenians did not invent their democracy overnight either. The alternative, as became apparent when I reviewed The Great Leveler, is that it ends in tears when bloody wars or insurrections level the playing field.
Beasts and Gods is a pleasantly accessible book, even when, like myself, you are not well versed in politics and economics. Fuller injects her writing with a welcome dose of wit and strident attitude to prevent this from being a boring or dry read. More importantly, she provides solutions. Having just shown how broken democracy currently is, you might be surprised she nevertheless defends it. For that, see my review of In Defence of Democracy.
Disclosure: The author provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
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“The Misinformation Age: How False Beliefs Spread“, written by Cailin O’Connor and James Owen Weatherall, published by Yale University Press in January 2019 (hardback, 266 pages)
Fake news and lies have a long history (see e.g. Bunk: The Rise of Hoaxes, Humbug, Plagiarists, Phonies, Post-Facts, and Fake News and the forthcoming Truth: A Brief History of Total Bullsh*t). Take, for example, the Vegetable Lamb of Tartary. The idea that lambs grow on trees seems absurd now, but for centuries it was one of the many hybrid beasts populating mediaeval bestiaries. Learned men were convinced of its existence, based on nothing more than hearsay. And that problem remains, in spite of communication technologies allowing the rapid, global spread of information. Our knowledgebase long ago already became too vast for people to construct their worldviews from first principles. So all of us, scientists included, largely have to trust what other people tell us. And that is where things can get messy.
I was prepared for a lot of concerned hand-wringing. But The Misinformation Age offers something far better than that: an incisive analysis in four chunky chapters of how social interactions influence false beliefs, starting with scientists. “Wait now,” I hear you cry “aren’t scientists supposed to be the good guys?”. They are, and that is exactly why we start with them. After all, here is a community of well-informed, highly trained information gatherers and analysts, who dedicate their lives to the pursuit of knowledge – “the closest we have to ideal inquirers” in the words of the authors. And even they are fallible.
By modelling simple communication networks, i.e. individuals exchanging information to decide which of two options to choose, the authors show how consensus is reached, but also how social factors quickly complicate the picture. Evidence presented by others is judged not just on its merits, but also on the trust we have in the presenter. And we are prey to the psychological phenomenon of conformity bias: we are uncomfortable disagreeing with others and like to fit in. Both can rapidly lead to polarization, with groups having different convictions.
“Our knowledgebase long ago already became too vast for people to construct their worldviews from first principles. So all of us […] have to trust what other people tell us. “
And this is before we consider real-life complications of industry interests who will bend the truth to further their own fortunes. “Doubt is our product”, wrote a tobacco company executive once in an unsigned memo, and it is one of the best-known examples of how industries sow discord and confusion (see more in e.g. Doubt is Their Product: How Industry’s Assault on Science Threatens Your Health, the famous Merchants of Doubt: How a Handful of Scientists Obscured the Truth on Issues from Tobacco Smoke to Global Warming, and Creating Scientific Controversies: Uncertainty and Bias in Science and Society). Data fabrication is the blunt strategy, but, as O’Connor and Weatherall show, there is an insidious sliding scale to ever more subtle forms of propaganda. From biased production (i.e. industries funding or doing their own research but selectively reporting only the desired results) or increasing the productivity of certain research groups by funding them, to quoting academics out of context or selectively publicising only certain research findings. And this is before we get to the weaponisation of people’s professional reputations (see also Bending Science: How Special Interests Corrupt Public Health Research and Tainted: How Philosophy of Science Can Expose Bad Science).
Particularly problematic is that industries can simply exploit existing weaknesses in current scientific practice. Academic journals are biased towards publishing novel or positive results. And there is a host of factors stimulating salami science: the publication of more but smaller and statistically underpowered studies, rather than fewer but larger and more powerful ones. These include limited funding, limited time due to short tenures, and the importance attached to publication volume and citation metrics when hiring scientists. The resulting reproducibility crisis and the temptation of doctoring data offer easy pressure points for industry interests (see also my reviews of Stepping in the Same River Twice: Replication in Biological Research and Fraud in the Lab: The High Stakes of Scientific Research).
“”Doubt is our product”[…] is one of the best-known examples of how industries sow discord and confusion.”
Meanwhile, in the “real world”, many of these mechanisms play out, often amplified, in how society at large forms their beliefs. The authors highlight journalism – its ethical framework of fairness and representing-all-sides-of-a-debate can backfire spectacularly. In the UK, for example, the BBC has been lambasted for giving equal weight to lobbyists and scientists in its coverage of climate change, creating the illusion of a debate where there is none. And online social media sites such as Twitter and Facebook can isolate us in so-called filter bubbles (see The Filter Bubble: What The Internet Is Hiding From You, but also Are Filter Bubbles Real?), though I found the authors’ coverage of the algorithms driving these sites fairly limited (for introductions see e.g. Outnumbered: From Facebook and Google to Fake News and Filter-bubbles – The Algorithms That Control Our Lives and my review Rage Inside the Machine: The Prejudice of Algorithms, and How to Stop the Internet Making Bigots of Us All).
You would be forgiven for thinking that two philosophers reporting on modelling work could make for a boring read, but nothing is further from the truth. O’Connor and Weatherall write in a breezy style, making it very easy to follow their argument, and they make good use of diagrams when they discuss their network models. Furthermore, they nicely balance the book with interesting and relevant case studies. I found the finer details on the controversies surrounding ozone depletion and Lyme disease particularly fascinating.
“when applied to scientifically-informed decisions, democracy is a “tyranny of ignorance”. Evidence is simply not up for a vote. “
The authors are outspoken when offering recommendations on how to combat false beliefs. They consider as dangerous and patently false the notion that truth will triumph when allowed to compete with other ideas in the proverbial “marketplace of ideas”. Scientists could organise themselves better (yes), journalistic standards can be improved (sure), and legislative frameworks such as defamation and libel laws could be extended to prohibit industries from spreading misinformation (why not). But then, in the last three (!) pages of the book: “Isn’t it time to reimagine democracy?”
Right, I was not prepared for that one.
They follow Philip Kitcher (see his books Science, Truth, and Democracy and Science in a Democratic Society) by arguing that, when applied to scientifically-informed decisions, democracy is a failure. Most voters have no idea what they are talking about, making democracy a “tyranny of ignorance” or worse, as people are often actively misinformed and manipulated. Evidence, they say, is simply not up for a vote. Given that I have Brennan’s Against Democracy sitting on my shelf here (which champions the idea of an epistocracy, a rule of the knowledgeable), I was all ears.
The Misinformation Age is fantastically readable and makes a convincing case for the importance of social factors in the spread of knowledge. Whether you are interested in the communication of science or worried about the epidemic of false beliefs, this book comes highly recommended.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
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, Now take another good look around you. Where is the internet that we were promised?
“The Internet Trap: How the Digital Economy Builds Monopolies and Undermines Democracy“, written by Matthew Hindman, published by Princeton University Press in October 2018 (hardback, 256 pages)
In response to this question, associate professor of media and public affairs Matthew Hindman is telling his readers not to hold their breath. Despite much belief and fervent wishing to the contrary, he strongly argues that the internet is not a level playing field. A handful of multinational firms have attained a virtual monopoly on digital audiences and online revenue (a virtual virtual monopoly?) With The Internet Trap, Hindman explores how we got here and what the impacts are on business, news, and politics.
Amidst all the books that I review on biology and related sciences, this book is perhaps an unusual choice. I hope my pen name speaks for itself. One of my favourite bloggers, Mark Manson, eloquently summarised my feelings on the impact of the internet with his post Everything Is Fucked and I’m Pretty Sure It’s the Internet’s Fault.
“There is serious money to be made in trying to monopolise that most precious of commodities: your time”
When I read about Hindman’s book, I was wondering what new views it would add. After all, in recent years there has been a veritable outpouring of distress and concern. Authors worry that the algorithms running the internet are isolating us in filter bubbles, exposing us only to views we already agree with (see The Filter Bubble: What The Internet Is Hiding From You, but also the forthcoming critique Are Filter Bubbles Real?), are turning us into easily offended bigots (see Hate Inc.: Why Today’s Media Makes Us Despise One Another and Rage Inside the Machine: The Prejudice of Algorithms, and How to Stop the Internet Making Bigots of Us All), are eroding intelligent thought (see The Shallows: How the Internet is Changing the Way We Think, Read and Remember and World Without Mind: The Existential Threat of Big Tech), and are overwhelming us with too much of everything (see The Internet Trap: Five Costs of Living Online). Others decry the invasive character of both social media (see Terms of Service: Social Media and the Price of Constant Connection) and new internet business models (see What’s Yours Is Mine: Against the Sharing Economy). In short, many authors are very concerned about what the internet is doing to us, the poor users. And this is where this book makes a novel and interesting contribution.
At its heart, this book all about what is called the attention economy. There is serious money to be made in trying to monopolise that most precious of commodities: your time. The epigraph to chapter 2, quoting former Facebook employee Jeff Hammerbacher, reads:
“The best minds of my generation are thinking about how to make people click ads. That sucks.”
The main thrust of Hindman’s argument is that the ability of firms to attract users and retain their attention is what determines their survival online. And bigger firms can throw more of everything (money, manpower, and infrastructure) at achieving this aim. His descriptions of the data centres and other hardware that power online giants like Google should give pause to anyone who thinks that the internet makes things “free” or that infrastructure has become redundant just because information can be sent digitally. I found his point that Google’s facilities are “industrial mills, digital smelters refining not ore but information” a powerful comparison. The same economies of scale that apply to conventional industry are at play here.
Thus, through relentless software development and endless comparative testing of user experiences (so-called A/B testing), large firms such as Facebook and Google have edged out the competition. Smaller firms simply cannot compete and have progressively lost more and more of their online audience. The other big lesson to draw is that small differences (for example minuscule differences in a page’s loading time) matter when it comes to retaining your audience and compound over time. As Hindman points out, when that happens, they rapidly cease to be small differences. And, the author says, let us not forget switching costs: all of us are resistant to change. Once we have learned to use a certain website or software, we become locked-in and less likely and willing to try something new. Most of us will recognise the frustration of having to learn to use new software or upgrade to the latest version of our preferred operating system. (Hell, I stuck with Windows XP ten years past its use-by date.)
“Google’s facilities are “industrial mills, digital smelters refining not ore but information””
In the process, the big internet firms have become fiendishly effective at retaining our attention, at creating an-as-frictionless-as-possible online experience. To keep us mindlessly scrolling and clicking has been elevated to an art form and has become their raison d’être (see also The Attention Merchants: The Epic Scramble to Get Inside Our Heads). It has gotten to the point where internet addiction is now a serious problem (see also Irresistible: Why You Are Addicted to Technology and How to Set Yourself Free). Something that, I think, is not sufficiently recognised, though calls for resistance have been issued (see for example Stand out of our Light: Freedom and Resistance in the Attention Economy and How To Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy). Maybe computers should come with a health warning? Or you may at least want to reconsider putting a smartphone or tablet in the hands of a young child who has yet to learn restraint.
The middle part of this book goes beyond merely verbally making these points. Hindman spends a chapter building a formal economic model of online content production, another chapter analysing a large dataset of web traffic that reveals some remarkable patterns, and two chapters on local news websites. This is where the book gets a bit more nitty-gritty, though without losing readability – technical details have been relegated to the appendix. The analysis of local news websites and the recommendations Hindman gives to strengthen local journalism are US-centric due to the source data used, but they will no doubt apply wider. I found these chapters “only” reasonably interesting, but that was really because the first few chapters made such convincing points and outshine this part of the book.
“[…] big digital firms have become fiendishly effective at retaining our attention, at creating an-as-frictionless-as-possible online experience”
In my opinion, The Internet Trap is a smart and opinionated argument that, as Hindman points out a few times, goes against much established internet scholarship. It runs counter to frequently aired opinions, even those of industry-insiders such as aforementioned quote by Google’s Larry Page that the “competition is only a click away” (see also 21 Digital Myths: Reality Distortion Antidote). Encouragingly, Hindman is not afraid to openly admit his own past mistakes in that context, such as his claim from The Myth of Digital Democracy that “the internet is reducing the cost structure of media firms and content producers: it lowers the cost of distribution”. Any author who will go on record to admit he was wrong goes up a few notches in my estimation. If, like me, you are sometimes concerned with the concentration of online power in the hands of just a few large monopolies, how this affects us all, or wonder how we got here, this book is highly recommended and sure to provide food for thought.
Disclosure: The publisher provided a review copy of this book. The opinion expressed here is my own, however.
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