3.5 stars
This has some really good information on how companies like Amazon and Google have invaded our privacy and controlled our access to information and our ability to share information. There’s also more “filler” content than necessary—the first third of the book is about the “robber barons” of the early 20th century and how government responded then. Mr. Hawley loves Teddy Roosevelt way more than I do because of his trust-busting principles. (As a Westerner, I cannot forgive Roosevelt for the Antiquities Act.)
He then offers suggestions for fighting back, including legislative ideas. But if we get off social media as much as possible, that will also make a difference. Just for kicks, I went to Facebook and tried deleting items from the Shows I’ve Watched feature—it refused to delete anything. I wasn’t that surprised. It’s all rather depressing but eye-opening.
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The truly transformative thing about Big Tech was its business model. Big Tech treated its users as sources of information to be mined and as objects to be manipulated. And the key to both was attention. Big Tech needed as many Americans online as possible for as long as possible, all in order to extract their personal data and manipulate them into buying the wares of Big Tech’s advertisers. Far from empowering ordinary people, Big Tech assaulted their agency and undermined their independence. By design. This model doubled down on the legacy of last century’s corporatists: elevating an ever-narrower group of professionals at the expense of ordinary citizens, consolidating power—and now information—in the hands of a few.
Having addicted Americans to its platforms and services, having mined citizens’ personal data, having subjected users to endless manipulation, Big Tech now demanded Americans absorb the potential consequences: soaring rates of depression, among children and teens especially; a dramatic spike in youth suicide; and a tangible loss of meaningful human relationships, as people turned away from each other and to their phones. There were political costs, too, visible in the outrage culture that Big Tech cultivated and promoted; there was the assault on common feeling and sentiment; the loss of deliberation, of the calm and informed reason that was supposed to animate political discussions. Far from empowering everyday Americans, Big Tech was assaulting the habits and mores of democratic life.
Across social network sites, more time browsing led to more social comparison, more self-criticism, more fear. The social media sites practically ran on it. And the strange thing was, the more one suffered the fear of missing out, the more time one spent on social media. Psychologists found fear of missing out consistently related to greater and greater levels of social media use. Isolated, nervous, depressed individuals couldn’t seem to get enough—they were addicted, as if to a narcotic. The more time on social media, the lower one’s self-esteem, and the lower one’s self-esteem, the more one felt the craving for social approval, which was available, or not, on social media.
From the moment a social media user wanders online, the tech giants relentlessly track and monitor her every twitch and move, her every click and view, all for purposes of categorizing her. This categorizing, this herding of users, is supposed to reflect user interests, but its principal purpose is to make it easier to sell users stuff. Express an interest in Second Amendment rights, or share interests with others who do? The platform’s almighty algorithm takes note, and shortly suggests to you potential gun-themed “friends” (on Facebook) and posts (on Instagram) and videos (on YouTube).
Remember when Mark Zuckerberg promised a future where Facebook’s all-knowing algorithms would expose users “to a greater number of diverse perspectives”? That was merely liberal happy talk. In reality, Facebook algorithms don’t promote “diversity” at all, not diversity of views or associations. They promote sameness. They force users into groups of similar people with similar interests and ideas. And once they have performed this herding, the Big Tech platforms proceed to promote the loudest and most obnoxious voices. The platforms called this promoting user “engagement,” because outrage, it seems, sells.
For democracy, for the republic of the common person, it all added up to trouble. Shuttling users into affinity groups by algorithm made terrific sense from an advertising perspective, but did nothing to promote the sort of real life give-and-take that sustains the life of real communities. In fact, by encouraging individuals to spend more, and more, and more time online, social media helped accelerate the decline of actual associations where people used to go in times past to meet one another and forge relationships. It was there, in those places, that Americans acquired the shared experiences and sense of purpose that underwrote shared deliberation. The social media outrage factory was the very opposite of citizens reasoning together, Madisonian style, and the steadily declining practice of actual discussion, of any kind.
The truth was, Facebook was exceptionally lax, even cavalier, about user privacy. Centra was a glaring case in point. A Facebook employee with access to Centra could track individuals anywhere, see every device ever associated with their Facebook accounts and every social media account ever connected to their personal devices. And all this without meaningful restraints of controls. [Whistleblower Mike] Gilgan’s revelations were shocking. They disclosed a company rife with political bias and arrogant with power. Facebook mouthed platitudes about user privacy and choice; company executives disclaimed any political manipulation or unequal treatment; but the truth was clearly otherwise. Facebook had a political agenda, or more precisely, a social agenda, and it was determined to use its power to achieve it. User privacy and data security were treated as niceties to be rehearsed in public and then ignored.
[Robert] Epstein found as early as 2014 that he could alter the choice of undecided voters in an election by perhaps more than 12 percent simply by manipulating the order of the search results—a swing that could determine a close contest. That was all hypothetical. Then came the 2016 presidential election. Epstein, a liberal Democrat, exhaustively studied Google’s Search responses for months leading up to Election Day, conducting more than 13,000 groups election-related searches on 3 different search engines with changing groups of voters. What he found was a pronounced search bias on Google in favor of Democratic presidential candidate Hillary Clinton. According to Epstein, the “Google search results—which dominate search in the U.S. and worldwide—were significantly biased in favor of [former] Secretary [of State] Clinton is all 10 positions on the first page of search results in both blue states and red states.” What did it mean? Professor Epstein estimated that Google’s secret, proprietary, almighty algorithm likely nudged 2.6 million undecided voters toward Hillary Clinton.
The Big Tech platforms’ power over advertising and sway over consumer attention now made them the biggest publishers in the history of the world. Their sudden, sprawling influence was difficult for the old-timers to fathom, and in this case old-timer meant any journalist over thirty. What you wrote, what news outlet published it—none of that mattered anymore. The traditional status symbols were defunct. If a story wasn’t on the News Feed, if it wasn’t picked up by Google, if it wasn’t blessed by the almighty algorithm, it practically didn’t exist. And to get picked up by the News Feed and Google, the content of what journalists wrote changed as well. To please the almighty algorithm, to get eyeballs and clicks, stories became shorter, more sensational, and more tinged with controversy. Wary journalists referred to pieces that met these all-important criteria, that pleased the algorithmic fates, as “clickbait.” In the great Age of Tech, journalism was clickbait, and Big Tech controlled the clicks.
[Big Tech companies] competed in the American market but saw it as secondary to global business. They generated enormously high returns—gaudy and obscene profits for their investors—while employing a tiny number of workers, all things considered. They produced almost nothing, paid next to nothing in U.S. taxes, made virtually no significant capital investments relative to their profits, and extracted nearly all their value as economic rents from a customer based held hostage to their monopoly control.
Since China won permanent normal trade relations with the United States in 2000 and membership in the World Trade Organization a year later, Americans have lost over 3 million jobs to the People’s Republic, as company after company followed the Big Tech playbook. In the 2000s and 2010s, Facebook, Google, and Apple all desperately sough access to China’s domestic market. Apple had the most success. ... Apple located most of its production supply chains in China, for a simple reason: wages were cheaper in China. This was especially true when one used forced labor, as one recent report strongly suggests Apple did, by relying in part on labor sourced from concentration camps in the Xinjiang province. On Capitol Hill, Apple is among the most vigorous corporate actors lobbying behind the scenes against legislative efforts to crack down on Uighur slave labor.
Big Tech’s army of paid sycophants in Washington loved to expound on the sanctity of the free market; Big Tech being supposedly a product of that market. In fact, no corporate actors had done more to undermine competition and free enterprise than Big Tech. That’s the thing about plutocrats: once they seize the power, they tend to keep it. While Big Tech’s rhetoric all came from the corporate liberal songbook of freedom and choice, its actions worked to entrench its own domination. ... Google wanted all search on the internet, for any product or service, to run through its Search platform. Google wanted total control, so it targeted these small, recalcitrant little platforms for elimination, and then cut a few corners. It cloned the most successful of them, scraped their content right from their pages, and then repackaged it all as … Google. Next Google gave preference to these new “Google” services in its search results. The power of Google’s search dominance coupled with its self-dealing practices ran the smaller platforms right into irrelevance.
Under the new and improved statute, tech companies could shape or edit content without liability, could take down content without any show of good faith or fair dealing, and could display content they knew to be illegal—and no one could challenge any of it in court. No other media concerns—no newspaper, no television network, no entertainment or film company—enjoyed this kind of immunity.
Thanks to Section 230, tech could produce nothing and control everything. Users would do the real work of production, and tech’s algorithms would tweak and amplify that content for optimal engagement—no human supervision required by law; no genuine, journalistic editorial oversight; no redress available for anyone harmed by it all. Big Tech would have all the power to control information flow with none of the responsibility that the common law would demand of any corporate actor in a similar role of influence in the physical world. It was as if the government had given tomorrow’s drug lords a new pharmacological formula and a promise that they couldn’t be sued for what happened in the opium dens they ran. And that was the point. No company could possibly wield this sort of power—no one would dare to try—if the law imposed liability on it for its misuse.
In Washington, it’s always wise to follow the money, and Big Tech has spent handsomely to buy the good graces and the chattering mouths of the Washington courtier set. ... One New York Times report recorded privacy advocates’ concerns: “Google’s willingness to spread cash around the think tanks and advocacy groups focused on internet and telecommunications policy has effectively muted, if not silenced, criticism of the company.” According to privacy advocates, “It has become increasingly difficult to find partners” to call out privacy violations “as more groups accept Google funding.”
And then there are the academics, the professional economists and antitrust experts the tech giants pay to sing their praises. Over the past decade, Google has financed hundreds of research papers defending the company against charges of antitrust violations and from other regulatory initiatives, sometimes shelling out as much as $400,000 per project. The researchers who get this cash frequently permit Google to review the papers before they are published or peer-reviewed, a major no-no in the academic world—but with this much cash involved, who’s to judge? Google then promotes said “research” to government officials, going so far as to pay the travel expenses for the academics to meet with congressional staffers and executive branch officials.