The question of whether artificial intelligence will help or harm ordinary people sits at the centre of some of the most consequential policy debates of our time. In Algorithmic Harm, the authors, Oren Bar-Gill and Cass R. Sunstein bring both rigour and accessibility to a subject that too often generates more heat than light. The book is neither a celebration of algorithmic innovation nor a counsel of despair. Its ambition is analytic: to identify precisely when and why algorithms cause harm, and to propose regulatory responses proportionate to those specific conditions. In that sense, it is a timely and disciplined intervention in a debate that is frequently distorted by ideological excess at both ends of the spectrum.
The book’s organising framework is a distinction between two types of consumer markets. ‘S markets’ are populated by sophisticated consumers – those with sufficient information and the rational capacity to use it effectively. ‘U markets’, by contrast, are populated by unsophisticated consumers who either lack relevant information or are subject to behavioural biases such as unrealistic optimism, present bias, or availability bias. The authors are careful to note that this is a shorthand: when they speak of S and U consumers, they should be understood as referring to the likelihood of mistakes rather than fixed categories of persons. Nevertheless, dividing the analysis in this way allows them to advance a clear overarching conclusion: ‘algorithmic differentiation is generally beneficial in S markets but often harmful in U markets.’
The book is structured in three parts. Part I focuses on algorithmic harm in consumer markets and is the analytical core of the work, comprising seven chapters. These cover algorithmic price discrimination and its extensions, algorithmic targeting, algorithmically enhanced misperceptions, algorithmic coordination, race and sex discrimination and consumer-side algorithms. Part II turns to policy and law, addressing how regulators might intervene through disclosure mandates, algorithmic transparency requirements and a combination of ex post policing and ex ante regulation. Part III extends the analysis beyond consumer markets to labour markets and political markets, closing with a warning that democracy and self-government are also at risk and that the same framework of analysis applies.
The treatment of price discrimination is among the most sustained in the book. The authors demonstrate that where consumers are sophisticated, algorithmic price discrimination reduces consumer surplus while increasing overall efficiency. In U markets, however, the analysis shifts: the willingness to pay of unsophisticated consumers includes a misperception component, meaning that pricing algorithms trained on behavioural data may exploit distorted signals rather than genuine preferences. The Facebook example the authors cite is instructive here – a leaked internal document reportedly showed the platform identifying when young users felt stressed, defeated or anxious, and using those emotional states to micro-target advertising. This is algorithmic targeting at its most troubling: not merely personalisation, but the deliberate exploitation of psychological vulnerability.
The dynamic dimension of the argument is also significant. Over time, as sellers accumulate more data about consumers’ past behaviour, the degree of price discrimination increases. The authors flag the case of behaviour-based pricing (BBP), noting that consumers with lower willingness to pay – who are likely to be poorer – may, in some respects, benefit from BBP because lower prices allow them to enter markets they would otherwise be excluded from. The labour market chapter draws the parallel explicitly: employers, like sellers, are increasingly using AI to make or assist in hiring and wage-setting decisions, and the asymmetry of sophistication between employer and employee maps closely onto the seller-consumer dynamic explored in Part I.
On the regulatory side, the authors propose that policing algorithms – tools developed by regulators to monitor sellers’ pricing algorithms – could play an important role, noting that the actual number of commercially deployed algorithms is smaller than it might appear, with a handful of large technology firms and a small number of developers supplying the market. They also argue that regulatory approaches should be designed to remain relevant as technology evolves, rather than becoming obsolete with the next wave of innovation.
Bar-Gill and Sunstein’s analytical framework is genuinely valuable, and the S/U market distinction gives the book a clarity of argument that some of the writings I have read on AI and regulation lack. The progression from consumer markets through to labour and political markets is coherent, and the policy prescriptions – disclosure mandates, algorithmic transparency, and the development of regulatory policing algorithms – are grounded and reasonable.
Yet the framework has vulnerabilities that the authors do not fully reckon with. The binary of sophisticated and unsophisticated consumers, however carefully the authors caveat it, risks masking important gradations within the ‘sophisticated’ category itself. What an engineer understands about AI is not the same as what a product manager understands, which in turn differs from what a marketing executive understands. A consumer who is sophisticated about one domain of algorithmic activity may be significantly less so in another. The authors’ own observation that willingness to pay includes a misperception component is worth pressing further here: even informed consumers may suffer from confirmation bias or operate with bounded knowledge about rapidly shifting technologies. The disruption caused by DeepSeek’s emergence is one recent illustration of how quickly the landscape can shift beneath even technically literate observers. The ‘S consumer’ may be a more unstable category than the book seems to acknowledge.
There is also a structural assumption embedded in the analysis that deserves scrutiny. The behaviour-based pricing discussion largely treats consumer decisions as driven by willingness to pay and the presence or absence of misperception. But purchasing decisions are also shaped by circumstances entirely outside the algorithm’s model — emergencies, sudden changes in income or one-off windfalls. These exogenous shocks do not map neatly onto the S/U framework, and their exclusion risks overstating the predictive tidiness of algorithmic consumer profiling.
One question that lingers after reading this book is whether the regulatory architecture the authors propose is politically achievable within the currently flailing democracy systems, as it’s a generally known fact that governments play catch-up with technological advancements. The suggestion that policymakers develop policing algorithms to monitor sellers’ pricing behaviour is intellectually coherent, but it rests on assumptions about regulatory competence and political will that the current environment does not obviously support. In a context where major technology firms are significant funders of electoral campaigns and cultivate close relationships with elected officials, the appetite for robust algorithmic oversight may be structurally limited in ways the book does not confront directly. The authors recommend that regulatory approaches be designed to avoid obsolescence as technology evolves – a sound principle, but one that presupposes a regulatory body both technically capable and institutionally independent enough to keep pace with commercial AI development. In my opinion, that presupposition deserves to be stated and interrogated rather than assumed.
There is also a broader geopolitical dimension that sits largely outside the book’s frame. The framework is calibrated primarily to Western liberal market economies and the consumer protection traditions of the United States and European Union. How the analysis translates to emerging market contexts where regulatory capacity, data infrastructure, and levels of consumer digital literacy may differ is a question the book’s scope does not seem to address, but that a globally oriented reader will find pressing.
Algorithmic Harm is recommended reading for scholars of law, marketing, behavioural economics, business management/leadership and technology policy, as well as for policymakers and practitioners engaged with AI governance. Bar-Gill and Sunstein have produced a framework that is both analytically rigorous and practically oriented, and their extension of the consumer market analysis to labour and political markets gives the work a reach that elevates it above a mere academic work. Some readers will find the S/U binary simplistic, and the book’s engagement with the political economy of regulation could be deeper. But as a serious, evidence-based and accessible intervention in one of the defining debates of the present moment, this work appropriately contributes to contemporary discussions and deserves recognition within the field.
Akin Akinbusoye is a PMP-certified IT Project Manager at HAP Consulting LTD with over 12 years of experience specialising in digital transformation, IT sourcing, and technology investment optimisation. His professional interests lie at the intersection of technology implementation, business strategy, business ethics, and the policy implications of algorithmic systems in organisational contexts.
What has Silicon Valley to do with Rome? One moves quickly and breaks things; the other holds fast to timeless tradition. One seeks to maximise utility; the other seeks to preserve human dignity. One pursues technological salvation in this life; the other patiently waits for divine salvation in the next. Founded in disparate worldviews, motivated by different objectives and driven by divergent incentives, the Artificial Intelligence (AI) hubs of San Francisco Bay seem a world away from the ancient halls of the Vatican.
And yet, it is in this wide, surprisingly fertile, plain that Encountering Artificial Intelligence: Ethical and Anthropological Investigations clears the soil, plants the seeds and gently waters the green shoots of ethical and theological insight that have begun to bloom into a fruitful dialogue between Catholic social teaching and the development and use of AI.
Through a series of learned, thoughtful and perceptive reflections, the authors of Encountering Artificial Intelligence shine light on the possibility of positive-sum games between tradition and innovation, human dignity and prosperity, and right relationship with God alongside technological advancement. Neither naively credulous nor narrowly cynical, there is acknowledgement of both the great gift of technological advancement for human flourishing as well as the reality of human fragility and the attractive temptation towards an idolatrous worship of AI.
Why Should the Catholic Church Discuss AI?
Encountering Artificial Intelligence is the first fruit of multi-year collaboration between the AI Research Group for the Centre for Digital Culture, part of the Holy See’s Dicastery for Culture and Education, and the Journal of Moral Theology. Formed under the shadow of the COVID-19 pandemic in March 2020, the A.I. Research Group gathered a range of North American theologians, philosophers and ethicists for a series of discussions over three years on the promises and pitfalls of AI for our common life and society. Between the four lead authors and sixteen contributing authors, a valuable breadth and depth of insight permeate the writing. Pleasingly, Encountering Artificial Intelligence is only the first of three volumes in this new Theological Investigations of Artificial Intelligence book series.
The stated objective of the collaborators is to promote dialogue between the world of faith and the world of technology, between a culture of Christian humanism and a culture of positivism, to better discern the ways in which to be most fully human in our increasingly digital world. The volume is presented as akin to an ‘instrumentum laboris’ (working instrument), which communicates a general Catholic consensus on the emerging issue of AI while leaving space for further dialogue and discernment. It is an example of the Catholic social teaching principle of subsidiarity in action: the Church, alongside the rest of civil society, has a critical role to play in supporting state and market to understand and respond to the crucial cultural, legal and political issues of our time.
The open-hearted and open-minded approach of Encountering Artificial Intelligence is guided by the influence of Gaudium et Spes (1965), visible from the first footnotes of the introduction. Promulgated by Pope Paul VI in 1965 as a principal document of the Second Vatican Council, Gaudium et Spes (Joy and Hope) called on Christians to integrate ‘new sciences and theories […] with Christian morality and the teaching of Christian doctrine, so that religious culture and morality may keep pace with scientific knowledge and with the constantly progressing technology’ (Gaudium et Spes, 62). Through engagement with a variety of scriptural, traditional and intellectual authorities (from the Book of Genesis and St Benedict of Nursia, to the writings of British mathematician Alan Turing and the American sociologist Sherry Turkle), the volume responds to the call of Gaudium et Spes with a truly catholic, as in universal, appetite for knowledge and wisdom in its attempt to analyse AI in an authentically Christian fashion.
A helpful introduction sets the scene, establishing the longstanding Catholic embrace of the mutual benefit of faith and reason and firmly stating the compatibility of religious belief and scientific progress. For less tech-savvy readers, there is a succinct summary of the historical development of AI and a neat primer on the key concepts. Thereafter, a brief but significant chapter addresses the various ethical approaches being taken to AI, from human rights-based perspectives to more utilitarian calculus.
The book is divided into two main sections: Anthropological Investigations and Ethical Challenges with AI. These represent separate but connected lines of enquiry: what does it mean to be human in an age of AI, and how can we best respond to the threats, challenges and opportunities presented by AI across our personal and professional lives?
Anthropological Investigations
The emergence of AI has raised some fundamental philosophical questions about the similarities and differences between human nature and the nature of AI. What is AI? What is AI not? What does it mean to be human?
A chapter on ‘AI and the Human Person’ uncovers the deep Christian understanding of personhood and intelligence. Made in the image and likeness of God, the human person is deeply relational and intuitively intelligent in ways that imitate the divine life of the Trinity, and which transcend any of the impressive capabilities of AI.
A deep exploration of ‘Consciousness’ demonstrates its necessity for human relationality and rationality and the limitations of mechanistic arguments for AI consciousness based on physiology, behaviour or functionality. Consciousness, properly understood, involves a full grasp of reality, which allows for the authentic mutual encounter of another person and participation in the divine life of grace.
‘Encounters with Seemingly Personal AI’ offers fascinating analysis of the complex relational dynamics between humans and AI. While the prospect of employing AI models as a ‘good enough’ substitute for a friend or romantic partner can be attractive, any truly authentic mutual encounter between a human and an AI agent is impossible, not least because of the impossibility of mutual vulnerability. The authors caution against the use of AI in caring contexts, especially the risk of moral and relational deskilling through the loss of opportunities to grow in the capacity to care for others.
An intriguing section on ‘AI and Our Encounter with God’ reveals the limitations of AI as a tool in sacramental or spiritual mediation. Rather than succumbing to idolatry of AI as an omnipotent and omniscient source of spiritual truth, there is a call to reclaim a providential vision of human creation and salvation in which AI can only play a more minor assisting role.
In the face of significant philosophical challenges presented by our interactions with AI, the authors mount a strong defence of the irreplaceable magnificence of humanity. Formed in the imago Dei (image of God), intended for a life of relational self-gift with others, and empowered by grace to participate in divine life, human beings are uniquely different from any AI programmes.
Ethical Challenges with AI
Having provided greater clarity on the nature and purpose of AI, the authors turn to the practical ethical problems and possibilities posed by these new technologies.
A strong defence of the relevance of Catholic social teaching to the treatment of AI starts this section. Catholic understandings of human dignity, subsidiarity and the common good are highlighted as helpful resources for understanding and responding to the signs of these new times. Particular attention is paid to the late Pope Francis’ influential critique of the so-called ‘technocratic paradigm’, especially the modern-day temptation to exploit human beings as machines of efficiency and optimisation.
An expansive entry on ‘The Promises and Pitfalls of AI in Contemporary Life’ showcases the upsides and downsides of applying AI across different domains. From the prospect of AI-improved diagnostic and treatment applications to the potential for unequal access to AI to further entrench educational inequities, a realistic Catholic vision of both the limitations of human nature and the limitation of technology allows for an effective cost-benefit analysis of the adoption of AI across various fields.
In closing, an engaging reflection on ‘Recommendations for an AI Future’ proffers practical advice on living and working well alongside AI in new and changing contexts. Notable recommendations include the importance of offline creative activities, prudent regulation to limit the harms of AI programmes, and the need to incentivise better behaviour in our digital culture.
Legacy
Encountering Artificial Intelligence is an excellent start to this new Vatican-led, three-volume series of theological investigations into AI. It should surely serve as an essential textbook for Christian, and non-Christian, students of AI anthropological and ethical questions. The chapters themselves are worthy of standalone treatment, especially the rich anthropological reflections of ‘Encounters with Seemingly Personal AI’ and the extensive ethical coverage of ‘The Promises and Pitfalls of AI in Contemporary Life’. While these sorts of publications may typically tend to be of greater interest and importance to an internal Christian audience than an external secular audience, there is no reason why technologists, entrepreneurs and investors would not find some value in reflecting on these philosophical and ethical matters.
The impact of Encountering Artificial Intelligence has already been felt in the Catholic world, not least through its clear influence on the form and content of the landmark Vatican publication on AI, Antiqua et Nova: Note on the Relationship between Artificial Intelligence and Human Intelligence, which was published the following year in January 2025. Naturally, much more remains to be said in several areas of AI ethics. The emerging threats of AI hallucination and deception, the practical and economic effects of AI on the creative industries, and the ways in which our use of AI may reshape our methods and models of thinking, writing and communicating each merit closer attention.
Although Pope Leo XIV now carries the baton for the development of the Catholic Church’s engagement with AI, the influence of the late Pope Francis’s theology of encounter, which runs throughout this volume, is likely to loom large. As the late Pope Francis emphasised, there is a profound and persistent human desire for the ‘truly real’, which can ultimately only be experienced through authentic mutual encounter with another thinking, feeling and loving human being (Pope Francis, Fratelli Tutti, 33). Given that the phenomenon of ‘AI companionship’ seems to be growing from strength to strength, not least in its promise of risk-free relationships, there will be an equal and opposite need for the Church to communicate the enormous and irreplaceable value of risky but rewarding human-to-human relationships compared to the simulated substitutes supplied by AI models.
There is no shortage of AI coverage and commentary at present. Predictions, prognostications and prophecies of the future impact of AI abound in plentiful supply. Yet amid the heat of ever-evolving debate over job losses, regulatory options and corporate liabilities, there can sometimes be precious little light of insight. Here, through cohesive anthropology and coherent ethics, is where Encountering Artificial Intelligence bears fruit.
‘Encountering Artificial Intelligence: Ethical & Anthropological Investigations’ by the Dicastery for Culture and Education of the Holy See was published in 2024 by Pickwick Publications (979-8-385-21028-2). 274pp.
Naoise Grenham is a senior policy and research analyst for the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of England and Wales, where he advises Catholic bishops in areas of artificial intelligence, criminal justice reform and healthcare. He is one of the inaugural Edington Fellows of the Prosperity Institute in Mayfair, London, and serves as a Trustee for the national Catholic domestic charity, Caritas Social Action Network (CSAN).
In a recent talk at the Markkula Center for Applied Ethics, Shannon Vallor suggested that, while we think of AI as the epitome of the technological future, current AI programs are actually reflections of the past. In In AI We Trust, Helga Nowotny makes a similar case. Her primary concern is that as we become increasingly dependent on predictive algorithms and their illusion of control we will slide into a future that is largely determined by our past, closing off alternative possibilities that might serve us better.
Nowotny divides her argument into four basic points. First, she notes the paradox that, while ‘predictions are obviously about the future, . . . they act directly on how we behave in the present’ (page 5). Based on the past, predictive algorithms influence our actions in the present, which, in turn, determines our future. Thus, while our digital technologies expand our spatial reach, allowing us to communicate almost instantaneously across the globe, they compress our sense of time. We can now look deeply into the past, as our telescopes view deep space, our DNA analyses track the history of our species, and our AI programs allow us to crunch all the resultant data. We predict the future as we track weather systems, incipient traffic jams, and trading on financial markets. This two-faced vision given to us by our technologies dissolves the linearity of time, fusing past, present and future. Nowotny’s concern is that such a dissolution ‘risks creating a closed and deterministic world run by efficient prediction machines whose inner workings remain obscure and whose impact on us goes unquestioned’ (page 51). Too much analysis of the past might close our minds to the openness and unpredictability of the future.
Nowotny next turns to the virtual world of cyberspace, examining how, through smart devices, RFID chips, avatars, gaming, virtual reality, and social media, we have created a digital ‘mirror world.’ It is this mirror world that helps us determine our actions in the ‘real world,’ extending our agency and our reach. But as we increasingly influence and are influenced by what happens on-line we also open ourselves to new levels of surveillance, loss of privacy, and a blurred sense of identity, both individually and collectively. As story-telling creatures, might we lose control of the future if we allow AI to tell our story? Nowotny examines the narrative, originating in the Enlightenment, of continual progress, noting how we have moved from a focus on providing the means for survival to one that dreams of having ‘perfect body and sharper mind, in the aspiration for a longer and healthier life . . . that will bring us closer to immortality’ (page 101). She considers this current iteration of the narrative of progress ‘broken because it cannot change tack and adopt a holistic approach in facing the challenges ahead . . . when seemingly insuperable problems block its way’ (page 106).
Nowotny suggests as a solution a new ethos in emerging AI research and development, one that embraces ambiguity and embodies the wisdom of the humanities and our cultural heritage. While a reasonable, indeed vital, call she is vague about how one might bring this about. How can AI programs embrace ambiguity without losing utility? And whose cultural heritage should these programs embrace? It is already a criticism of AI that it is highly biased toward Western culture as most current programs are trained only on text in the English language. Nowotny rightly notes that current attempts at instilling ethical principles in AI programs reduce ethics to a checklist. Historical experience tells us this is a futile enterprise. However, she does not present much of an alternative.
Writing during the Covid pandemic, Nowotny ends the book with a chapter discussing how the subsequent social distancing measures affected patterns of work and socialization. After her general call for a new approach to AI ethics, this last chapter reads somewhat more like a coda or appendix. Only in the last few pages, does she return to her primary thesis, that, insofar as we trust AI algorithms and allow them to determine our behavior, we self-domesticate our species and risk losing our critical judgement and agency.
Nowotny also begins by introducing the concept of the Anthropocene, which left this reader hoping to find some consideration of the massive ecological effects of AI’s energy and water needs, a consideration nowhere to be found. Nowotny leaves it up to the reader to surmise that she is using Anthropocene in a social, rather than an ecological sense, focusing on how our interaction with the digital changes us rather than our planet. But, as she never really discusses AI’s intersection with and effects on climate change, it might have been better to either clarify this or to omit using the term.
Despite these drawbacks, In AI We Trust is an engaging read, ranging widely over a variety of historical background, social milieus, and possible technological futures. While not an easy read, one can find provocative questions and ponderable insights throughout. I can imagine this book sparking thoughtful debate among graduate students in a variety of social science and humanities disciplines as well as among interested lay readers.
‘In AI We Trust: Power, Illusion and Control of Predictive Algorithms’ by Helga Nowotny was published in 2024 by Polity. (ISBN 978-1-50-956546-7). 200pp.
Noreen Herzfeld is the Director of Benedictine Spirituality and the Environment at St. John’s School of Theology and Seminary, Collegeville MN. She is also Senior Research Associate at the Institute for Philosophical and Religious Studies, ZRS Koper, Slovenia.
Mark Coeckelbergh is Professor of Philosophy of Media and technology at the University of Vienna, as well as the author of various titles on ethics, technology and politics. In The Political Philosophy of AI, he draws on his extensive knowledge of relevant research and strands of thought to offer an introduction to political thinking in relation to the field of AI. The work is in part grounded in a challenge, stemming from the philosophy of technology, to the naïve notion that technology is neutral and that how we use it is what raises ethical concerns, but is also intended to demonstrate that there a rich body of thought in political philosophy (and not only ethics) that can be applied to developments in artificial intelligence. Above all, however, the book proceeds from the premise that AI is already inherently political. Indeed, as the author writes: ‘… AI does not just function as a politically neutral tool in the hands of humans playing a particular political game, but transforms the conditions under which politics is done’ (page 83). So important has technology become, the he claims, ‘… political philosophy in the 21st century can no longer be done, and should no longer be done, without responding to the question of technology’ (page 150). Thus, the book is built on the position that ‘… the issues we currently care about in political and societal discussions, such as freedom, racism, justice, power, and (threats to) democracy, take on a new urgency and meaning in the light of technological developments such as AI and robotics, and that political philosophy can help to conceptualize and discuss these issues and meanings’ (page 149).
Each chapter considers certain core concepts in relation to AI, including freedom, equality and justice, democracy, power and non-humans. Within each chapter, the fundamental concepts to be discussed and applied are explored, and central issues surrounding AI are examined. For instance, the chapter on democracy deals not only with different understandings of democracy, but also with questions of manipulation, misinformation, populism, totalitarianism and the emergence of echo chambers, amongst others. The key concepts are then brought to bear on the issues outlined at the start of each chapter, the author discussing the ways in which the nature, use and development of AI raises issues in relation to these concepts, as well as the manner in AI can require us to re-think the concepts themselves. The book is, therefore, not just a work of applied political philosophy, but also one of political-philosophical thinking itself. As Coeckelbergh mentions, there is a good deal of overlap between chapters, which means that questions raised in one chapter could just as easily have been placed within another and are sometimes re-visited. As such, the breadth of coverage is impressive.
While the individual chapters address various questions, certain themes or concerns appear constant. These include:
– data collection and surveillance
– the manipulation of choice or ‘nudging’
– the shaping and (re-)constitution of the self through engagement with AI
– censorship and the filtering of information or opinion
– the growth of (unaccountable) power and non-transparent decision making
– errors in algorithms and the reproduction or propagation of bias, discrimination or domination
– issues of exploitation and autonomy
These themes are of course inter-related: collecting data about users makes manipulation possible, which naturally raises questions about personal freedom. As the book proceeds to address these issues using different concepts from political philosophy, there is an element of repetition, but this is perhaps to be expected – and depending on their own concerns and interests readers are likely to find some chapters more engaging than others. For instance, in the chapter on democracy, the author draws on the thought of Hannah Arendt (pages 89-91) to consider the possibility that AI systems, in their presentation and manipulation of information and opinion, risk bringing about conditions from which authoritarianism and totalitarianism might emerge, but also asks whether AI can also help to produce the conditions that enable democracy to flourish. The chapter on non-humans raises interesting questions about whether the effects of AI on animals and the environment should be considered, as well as whether AI systems themselves might come to form part of the political community, and if so, what this might entail. In both cases, a complete transformation of our understanding of ‘the political’ would be required, and we would need to ask ourselves about the criteria by which we might decide to accord non-human entities political recognition: whether the apparent presence of certain characteristics such as sentience or consciousness, the ability to perform certain tasks, the development of certain interdependent relations with human beings, or perhaps some notion of intrinsic or fundamental value.
The conclusion calls for more research on AI, as well as engagement and discussion on the part of various stakeholders throughout society. In an increasingly globalised world in which AI is not constrained by the borders of nation states, the author urges us to avoid reproducing the presuppositions of anglophone political philosophy in our deliberations, particularly if there is to be international co-operation and perhaps a need for supranational institutions and forms of governance to address the challenges presented.
The book is full of interesting questions and considerations from political philosophy and seeks to provide ‘some substantial building blocks for an evaluative, normative framework for thinking about the political aspects of AI’ (page 150).’ However, the analyses and discussions move at considerable speed, as though the author was constrained by a tight word limit. The text moves from one issue to the next very quickly, without sustained consideration of the issues at stake or the full implications of what is under discussion. In the chapter on freedom, for instance, Coeckelbergh mentions Hegel’s dialectic of master and slave, as found in his Phenomenology of Spirit. A somewhat complex idea, particularly for one new to political philosophy, this is covered in a single sentence, before moving to discuss Marx’s thought in relation to freedom and technology. More than anything else, the book would have benefited from a greater volume of concrete, illustrative examples. These would have helped to maintain the more measured pace that one would expect from a book presented as an introduction, spelling out the issues in play before moving to the next consideration. Indeed, the book opens with a very good example of AI failure and its implications, but too often in what follows, instead of a developed example, an in-text reference is given for a relevant piece of work. This creates the impression that the book is aimed primarily at scholars seeking an overview that provides direction for more advanced research on particular issues. The Political Philosophy of AI certainly enables reflection on why certain issues are raised in connection with AI matter and what principles are at stake. It thus helps us to understand the political nature of the debates surrounding AI, and how they are centred on the interplay – and differing conceptions – of certain fundamental concepts and values. Those new to either philosophy or the issues raised by AI will, however, be better served by a more genuinely introductory treatment.
‘The Political Philosophy of AI: An Introduction’ by Mark Coeckelbergh was published in 2022 by Polity (ISBN: 978-1-5095-4854-5). 186pp.
Neil Jordan is Senior Editor at the Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics. For more information about Neil please click here.
The Second Machine Age is Erik Brynjolfsson and Andrew McAfee’s best-known work. The book explores the profound implications of rapid technological advances, particularly in digital technologies, for society, the economy, and the labour market. Published in 2014, the book delves into the transformative effects of what the authors term the ‘second machine age,’ a period marked by exponential growth in computing power, the ubiquity of digital networks, and the rise of artificial intelligence (AI) and robotics (page 9). Through a well-structured narrative, Brynjolfsson and McAfee argue that while these technological advancements hold immense potential for economic growth and societal progress, they also present significant challenges, particularly in terms of inequality and the displacement of labour (pages 11-12). In this review we examine some of the book’s arguments, structure, and contributions to the wider ongoing discourse on technology and society.
Brynjolfsson and McAfee’s central thesis is that we are entering a new phase of technological advancement that is fundamentally different from the first machine age, which was characterized by the mechanization of manual labour through the invention of the steam engine and other machinery during the Industrial Revolution. The second machine age, in contrast, is driven by digital technologies that augment and, in some cases, replace cognitive tasks traditionally performed by humans (page 9).
Brynjolfsson and McAfee’s book is structured in a logical and accessible manner, making complex ideas about technology and economics understandable to a broad audience. The book is divided into three main sections: the first outlines the characteristics of the second machine age (chapters 1-6), the second discusses its implications for the economy and labour market (chapters 7-11), and the third offers potential solutions to the challenges posed by these technological changes (chapters 12-15).
The authors identify three key characteristics of the second machine age: (1) exponential growth in computing power, (2) digitalization, which allows information to be replicated at virtually no cost, and (3) combinatorial innovation, where new technologies are built upon existing ones, leading to rapid and often unexpected advances (page 37). The authors argue that these characteristics are driving unprecedented changes in productivity, business models, and the global economy (chapters 1-6).
A significant portion of the book is dedicated to discussing the implications of the technological changes for the labour market (chapters 7-11). Brynjolfsson and McAfee argue that while technology has always created winners and losers, the pace and scale of change in the second machine age are likely to exacerbate inequality. They point to the phenomenon of ‘skill-biased technological change’, where technology disproportionately benefits those with higher levels of education and skills, leading to a widening gap between high-skilled and low-skilled workers (page 134). This dynamic is further amplified by the ‘superstar’ effect, where a small number of highly skilled individuals and companies capture a disproportionate share of the economic gains from new technologies (page 150)
The authors also explore the potential for technological unemployment, where advances in AI and robotics could lead to the displacement of a significant number of jobs, particularly in sectors such as manufacturing, transportation, and even certain white-collar professions (page 173). However, they are careful to distinguish between short-term disruptions and long-term trends, noting that while some jobs will undoubtedly be lost, new opportunities will also emerge, particularly in areas that require creativity, complex problem-solving, and interpersonal skills (page 191).
One of the strengths of the book is its use of empirical evidence and real-world examples, the authors drawing on a wide range of data, from economic statistics to case studies of companies and industries that have been transformed by digital technologies. This evidence-based approach lends credibility to their analysis and helps to ground their sometimes abstract ideas in concrete realities.
However, a critic might argue that the book’s optimistic tone about the potential of technology to drive progress and prosperity is not sufficiently tempered by a consideration of the potential risks and downsides. While the authors do acknowledge the challenges posed by technological change, particularly in terms of inequality and job displacement, they tend to focus more on the potential benefits of innovation and less on the potential for negative outcomes, such as social unrest, the erosion of privacy and the proliferation of misinformation (e.g. fake news) in an increasingly digital world.
Moreover, while Brynjolfsson and McAfee offer several policy recommendations to address the challenges of the second machine age, such as investing in education, reforming the tax system, and fostering innovation (Chapter 13), some of the discussion around proposals such as higher tax rates, universal basic income and negative income tax may seem overly idealistic and difficult to implement in practice (Chapter 14). Some readers may find the patches of real-world naiveté throughout the concluding chapters off-putting.
Despite all this, The Second Machine Age makes a worthwhile contribution to the wider discussion on technology, economics, and society. Brynjolfsson and McAfee’s nuanced discussion of the potential for both job displacement and job creation provides a comparatively thoughtful perspective that is often missing from more alarmist accounts of technological unemployment. Their focus on the importance of education and lifelong learning in preparing workers for the jobs of the future is commendable and a valuable contribution to the wider policy debate.
In concluding, The Second Machine Age is recommended to all readers who are interested in the profound technological changes reshaping our economy and society. While the book is not without its flaws, particularly in chapters where the tone may seem overly optimistic, it remains an important contribution to the discourse on technology and society. As we continue to grapple with the impacts of AI, robotics, and other advanced technologies, Brynjolfsson and McAfee provide a useful framework for understanding the challenges and opportunities that lie ahead.
‘The Second Machine Age: Work, Progress, and Prosperity in a Time of Brilliant Technologies’ by Erik Brynjolfsson and Andrew McAfee was published in 2014 by W.W. Norton & Co. (ISBN: 978-0-39-335064-7). 306pp.
Andrei E. Rogobete is Associate Director at the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics. For more information about Andrei please click here.
Mark Coeckelbergh’s book delves into the complex and multifaceted relationship between artificial intelligence (AI) and democracy, articulating the significant risks AI poses to what he deems democratic principles. The author embarks on a comprehensive exploration, commencing with a historical perspective and extending through political-philosophical discussions, to analyze how AI impacts democracy. Coeckelbergh not only identifies the dangers AI presents but also offers solutions and insightful approaches to align AI with democratic values. The overarching theme is a call for a renaissance in political culture and education to safeguard and enhance democracy in the digital age, with a note on the ’common good’.
Following an introductory chapter, the author provides a historical overview in Chapter 2, illustrating how new technologies have historically led to increased centralization of power. Despite this trend, Coeckelbergh emphasizes that technological influence on politics is not deterministic, suggesting that the outcomes of technological advancements for political systems depend on how they are managed and integrated.
Chapter 3 delves into the definitions of AI and democracy, highlighting the necessity of linking discussions of AI with political philosophy to navigate the complex and contested nature of democracy. He argues for a broader understanding of democracy beyond mere voting, advocating for deliberative, participative, and republican ideals to address AI’s impact on democratic processes. This chapter sets the foundation for the subsequent analysis by establishing a nuanced understanding of the key concepts involved.
In Chapters 4 and 5, the book scrutinizes how AI jeopardizes liberal-democratic principles such as freedom, equality, fraternity, and the rule of law. Coeckelbergh discusses how AI erodes the knowledge and trust essential for democratic functioning by creating power asymmetries, enabling manipulation, and blurring the lines between reality and falsehood. The discussion draws on contemporary work on the ethics and politics of digital technologies, emphasizing the risks AI poses to the epistemic foundations of democracy.
The subsequent chapters focus on solutions to mitigate these risks. Chapter 6 proposes democratizing AI development and integrating it with democratic political institutions. The author argues for changes at both technical and institutional levels, emphasizing the need for public deliberation and leadership in steering AI in a democratic direction. This chapter presents a roadmap for transforming AI to support democratic values rather than undermine them.
Chapter 7 shifts the focus from defensive measures to proactive creation, advocating for AI designs that support democracy. Coeckelbergh calls for a cultural and educational renaissance, facilitated by digital technologies, to nurture a political culture conducive to democratic values. This vision envisions a new Enlightenment and Renaissance, driven by a deep commitment to the common good, communication, and the creation of a more inclusive world.
In the final chapter, the text underscores the urgent need for AI and digital technologies that facilitate the pursuit of the common good and foster genuine communication to thwart anti-democratic forces and prevent authoritarianism and totalitarianism. The book concludes with a call for a holistic transformation in both technological development and political culture to safeguard democracy in the age of AI.
One of the most intriguing aspects of the book is its historical perspective on the relationship between technology and democracy. Another fascinating point is the discussion on the non-neutrality of AI. The book argues that AI inherently shapes political systems and societal norms, making it a profoundly political technology. This insight challenges the common perception of AI as merely a technical tool and highlights the broader societal implications of AI deployment. The author also brings attention to the risks AI poses to the epistemic foundations of democracy. Drawing on contemporary work, the book discusses how AI can create power asymmetries, enable manipulation, and blur the lines between reality and falsehood, thereby undermining the knowledge and trust essential for democratic functioning. A particularly strong and welcome section deals with the common good, where Coeckelbergh proposes a general Aristotelian and Platonic framework, with commentary from Aquinas, Machiavelli, and others.
The author’s approach in Chapter 6, which focuses on fortifying democracy in the face of AI, is multifaceted yet problematic. Coeckelbergh emphasizes that the resilience of democracy depends not only on mitigating the risks posed by AI but also on addressing the inherent weaknesses of current democratic institutions. He argues that democracy, while a commendable idea, has yet to reach its full potential. This perspective underscores the importance of strengthening democratic frameworks to make them more robust against the challenges posed by AI. Democracy thus becomes a blurry concept whose realization lies only in the distant future, revealing a utopian leaning on the part of the author.
An interesting proposal that illustrates this leaning is the ‘open mini-republic’, a concept borrowed from Landemore. It consists of a jury of randomly selected citizens tasked with deliberating and making laws. This model is proposed as a way to enhance democratic representation without resorting to direct democracy, preserving a form of representative selection. AI, in this context, can play a supportive role by diversifying the information landscape for citizens and acting as a gatekeeper to shield democracy from populist and authoritarian threats. While AI can assist in these roles, Coeckelbergh notes that ultimate control should remain with humans – specifically those who are democratically accountable – rather than tech company executives.
A notable weakness, in addition to this utopian leaning, is the use of mainstream buzzwords and the unqualified critique of political adversaries. Figures like Trump, Orbán, and Meloni are portrayed decisively as bogeymen. Coeckelbergh also falls into the traps of anti-gun rhetoric (in the context of the USA), anti-Brexit rhetoric, and the lauding of concepts such as the ’open society’, ‘critical theory literature’, and a ‘universal republic’ in the style of a world government. The author reveals certain left-leaning tendencies, as illustrated by his endorsement of democratizing AI, advocating for the socialization of private institutions and data, and calling for a form of world government. These proposals raise concerns about their practicality and ideological balance. Additionally, the book does not thoroughly define what constitutes AI beyond its distinction from ‘GOFAI’ (Good Old-Fashioned AI) and leaves open questions regarding the transhumanistic undertones of the conversation.
Overall, the book offers a comprehensive and thought-provoking analysis of the interplay between AI and democracy. The author tackles a multitude of perspectives on the subject, providing valuable insights and strong arguments, particularly in the final chapter on the common good. However, some proposed strategies appear contradictory and reflect certain prejudices, revealing the author’s apparent left-leaning sympathies. Despite these reservations, the book serves as a welcome contribution to the discourse on AI and democracy, offering a broad overview and a call to action.
‘Why AI Undermines Democracy and What To Do About It’ by Mark Coeckelbergh was published in 2024 by Polity (ISBN: 978-1-5095-4854-5). 172pp.
Jan C. Bentz is a lecturer and tutor at Blackfriars in Oxford, with interests in how medieval metaphysics shaped modern thought. He also works as a freelance journalist.
Homo Numericus, is the last book by Daniel Cohen, who was Professor of Economics at the Paris School of Economics. A relatively short work of about 150 pages in translation, it is concerned with what the author calls ‘the digital revolution’. While this is not clearly defined, it appears to refer to the growing use of artificial intelligence and automation, together with the growth of the ‘digital society’, which seems to denote online social networks and social media. Divided into two parts, the first offers a critique of the tendency towards digitisation and our trust in algorithmic intelligence, while the second seeks to make an argument about the reality of human societies and that which is of fundamental importance in them.
The broad argument begins by distinguishing between machine intelligence and human intelligence, noting that in spite of its advantages in terms of processing speed and the ability to handle volumes of data, artificial intelligence lacks much that is characteristic of human intelligence, such as meaning, concepts and what we might call ‘common sense’ or wisdom. The author then charts the harmful effects of digital culture on human relationships in a range of areas, pointing in particular to the trend towards ever greater extremism and self-revelation on social media in the quest for attention and recognition: ‘The compulsion that moves everyone to exhibit his or her private life leads to a profoundly deformed image of oneself. In the case of young children, overexposure to screens perturbs their ability to enter into relationships with others. Virtual reality distances them from a sensible perception of the physical world and the social environment: the real becomes dull and flat’ (page 32). It thus becomes clear that whatever the promise of digitisation in terms of productivity and cost-efficiency, in its reconfiguring of social life, it involves a ‘major risk of losing social links that is already turning our societies upside down, bringing with it an incalculable batch of psychological and social harms’ (page 54). Cohen acknowledges that the digital revolution is not the cause of all of our social ills. The individualism, fragmentation, social anomie and identitarianism that characterise society are actually the results of processes by which working class social bonds have eroded by the tendency of firms to externalise certain types of work, but these phenomena find in digital society an ideal sounding board. Instead of producing a new agora in which ideas can be exchanged and everyone is heard, what we have from the digital sphere is fracture, resentment and distrust of democracy and political parties. This is in part due to the fact that beliefs are not always informed by information and fact; rather, they are protected from information that challenges them and are reinforced where possible – and in the digital world, it is easy to reinforce existing beliefs: ‘… social networks are in reality not at all interested in information in the ordinary sense of the term. What they produce online are beliefs that flatter the sensitivities of their members’ (page 76).
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To counter this, we must recognise the fact that for all its efficiencies, artificial intelligence cannot replace human interaction. Indeed, ‘productivity’ is a poor measure of well-being when applied to relationships between human beings, and factors other than wealth and GDP are far more decisive determinants of happiness. Of fundamental importance is the recognition of the value of institutions. What our experience of digital society demonstrates is that the mere aggregation of people through communication does not produce societies: ‘… the whole history of societies is, on the contrary, moulded by the life of institutions, churches or parties, sects or enterprises, that permeate the consciousness of individuals and offer them the means to rise above the few networks that their interactions are likely to produce’ (page 83).
What is not clear is how the divided state of our societies is to be addressed. Institutions may be central – and the author suggests that academic life, with its weak hierarchies and the right to be questioned and heard is perhaps indicative of an atmosphere that we might hope to see in society more widely – but wile ‘… we can never emphasize enough the fact that the enterprise is a place of shared lives, that labour unions are essential for their regulation, that the “gig economy” must be subject to social welfare law, that democratic life needs political parties, and that truth needs scientists!’ (page 114), the means by which we might restore respect for institutions is largely unexplained. Cohen acknowledges that we cannot simply turn back the clock: ‘The days when the Church or the Communist Party could aggregate the faith of large fractions of society will never return. We need to be more modest’ (page 150). The institutions are therefore likely to differ, but they should be inclusive and fight social disparities: ‘… universities, hospitals, post-industrial unions, and a post-“fake news” press can help to reinvent institutions that people can trust. The idea that we can do without them, that individuals only need to communicate with one another, is the illusion that the digital revolution entertains – the trap that has to be avoided’ (page 150). Digital society has furnished us with tools that can contribute to this goal, Cohen claims, giving as one example the possibility of countering the spread of disinformation by having press regulators monitor information providers based on various criteria, ranking them accordingly. The idea is that this should begin to restore trust in the press.
Few would question the conclusion’s broad principles. Faced with the ‘systematic digitalization of human relations’ (page 144), most would agree that institutions are important, that those things that truly matter are not reducible to matters of productivity, and that the digital sphere is not conducive to meaningful, civilised relationships and interaction. It might be that the digital revolution provides us with some means to address our situation, but the author’s solutions are questionable. Is there not a risk that they would entrench rather than mitigate division, given the fact that their implementation would involve decisions of a political nature? The criteria by which the press is to be judged ‘reliable’, for instance, would surely be contentious and likely to reflect the outlook of a particular group. Moreover, regardless of their importance as a form of ‘social glue’, some might well argue that our institutions are themselves guilty of stoking division, engaging in censorship, participating in combative discourse and destroying trust. If they are to play a role in restoring social relations, therefore, a fuller account of how institutions are to be restored is needed.
Overall, the book is quite readable but it is not always easy to see what some of the chapters contribute to the overall argument. Throughout the work, the author makes use of a wealth of evidence and illustrative examples drawn from research across disciplines, thus building the argument cumulatively. This is highly commendable but it is not always clear what role the evidence is to play in the argument, or what the author’s point is. This usually emerges later, but it tends to result in the sense that the author’s approach is somewhat ‘impressionistic’, as though he is circling his argument without necessarily articulating it. Perhaps the expectation is that the reader will draw (broadly correct) conclusions, but one is left wondering until the final chapter what the central argument of the book actually is. Rather than pursuing a clear line of thought, the book appears to contain several arguments – to the point of resembling a series of connected but disjointed essays at times – while some might find the overall conclusion disappointing. It might therefore be fair to say that the work is strong in its varied critique of the digital revolution and its effect on social relations, but that the solutions proposed, even in outline, are somewhat thin. Nevertheless, for those seeking an analysis of the faults of the ‘digital illusion’, the book is worth reading.
‘Homo Numericus: The Coming “Civilization”’ by Daniel Cohen was published in 2024 by Polity (ISBN: 978-1-5095-6021-9). 175pp.
Neil Jordan is Senior Editor at the Centre for Enterprise, Markets and Ethics. For more information about Neil please click here.
Charles Boix is Professor of Politics and Public Affairs at Princeton University. His primary research interests are in political economy and comparative politics, with a particular emphasis on empirical democratic theory. Previous notable publications include Political Parties, Growth and Equality (Cambridge University Press, 1998), Democracy and Redistribution (Cambridge University Press, 2003), and Political Order and Inequality (Cambridge University Press, 2015).
In Democratic Capitalism at a Crossroads Charles Boix seeks to explore both the historical chapters of democratic free-market tensions and current issues facing capitalism within western democracies. The author divides the narrative into three main eras: 19th century Manchester capitalism, 20th century Detroit capitalism, and the current 21st century Silicon Valley-based model of capitalism. The final chapters consider the implications of these forms of capitalism on the future workforce, in particular with respect to automation, the rate of technological change, income distribution and politics (or the role of government more broadly).
Charles Boix’s thesis is that, “the consequences of today’s technological changes […] are not set in stone. They will work their way into the economy through their direct (although, at this point, still uncertain) impact on the demand for different types of labour and on the cost and ownership of capital. Yet they will also depend on the institutional and political strategies we follow in response to those technological transformations” (page 3).
The book is well-written and comprehensively researched. The author does a commendable job of avoiding the clichés that often surround the topic of technology and maintains both nuance and a satisfactory degree of objectivity. We will touch upon some of the more intriguing points made throughout the book.
Chapters 1-3 explore the impact of technology on society and politics from a historical perspective. Chapter 2 dedicates a fair amount of attention (and rightly so), to the first industrial revolution. Boix points out that automatization brought by a new class of comparatively poorly skilled labour that replaced “…an old class of artisans and highly skilled operators” (page 57). In 20th Century capitalism however, the advent of technology (and automisation more specifically), led to a further replacement of low skilled workers with semi-skilled workers – albeit in much lower numbers. This new workforce of semi-skilled labour was needed to oversee, maintain, and repair the machinery in operation. Yet perhaps the most important consequence of the process of automisation was the arrival of “… new layers of white-collar, relatively well-paid jobs – from accounting departments to car dealerships” (page 59).
This in effect resulted in a new form of Corporatism whereby the relationship between employees, trade unions and the employers are far more interwoven than before. An interesting point is made in chapter 3 whereby the continual development of a company’s human capital became a vested interest for the company itself. Henry Ford for instance invested heavily in the education of his workforce. He established the Ford English School to teach English to recently arrived immigrants and he even established a “…Sociological Department, with about two hundred employees, to ensure that the family lives and overall behaviour of his factory workers did not deviate from a clear set of norms such as thriftiness, continence, and basic hygiene” (page 78).
Chapters 4-6 move the conversation to the contemporary debate around technology, artificial intelligence (AI), and its impact on the labour markets and consequently, on democracy itself. Charles Boix rightly points out the difference between simple AI and machine learning. The key form of impact here is that while computers/AI displaced routinable jobs at a large scale, they have “…hardly replaced nonroutine jobs” (page 103). Though this may be changing with machine learning.
Boix acknowledges in Chapter 6 that, ultimately, we cannot predict the impact of technological change or indeed “…depict the society it will give birth to…” (page 180). Therefore, any future policy responses must be made in a piecemeal fashion (ibid.). The chapter concludes the book with a few tentative proposals for reform. Rather unexpectedly, Universal Basic Income (UBI) is presented as one such proposal – yet the arguments made against UBI seem more convincing than those in favour. For instance, the author claims that UBI has two main advantages: “First, it may free individuals from routine, repetitive tasks, allowing them to engage in more creative and inventive professional paths. Second, it should reduce poverty and arguably, equalise conditions” (page 206). Perhaps the keywords here are ‘may’ and ‘should’ – one cannot help but feel that this is mere wishful thinking.
On the challenges of UBI, Boix acknowledges a rather lengthy list: UBI cannot be tailored to individual needs, it distorts the incentives that people have to work, it may keep the pre-existing structure of inequality in place, it reduces the need for schooling, it enables firms to offer lower wages, it affects the inner motivations and ambitions of youngsters, it can create antagonism between those that are earning against those that are not (pages 207-208). We don’t have space to go into further detail here, and surely each reader will make up their own mind – but it is a strange and slightly disappointing end to an otherwise interesting book.
In summary, Democratic Capitalism at a Crossroads is an engaging read about the impact of technological change on the transformation of labour markets, society and indeed, democratic systems themselves. It is accessible to the educated reader and while some might take issue with certain sections of the book, the author does a laudable job of curtailing his more subjective opinions by also presenting the counterarguments. One result is that some readers may find the counterarguments more compelling than the main arguments themselves (UBI is a case in point). This might not necessarily be a bad thing. The book is a recommended read to those looking to expand their knowledge of the intersection between technology, the economy, and democracy.
“Democratic Capitalism at the Crossroads” by Carles Boix was first published in 2021 by Princeton University Press, ISBN: 9780691216898, 272pp.
Andrei E. Rogobete is the Associate Director of the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics. For more information about Andrei please click here.
Jeremias Prassl is a Fellow of Magdalen College and an Associate Professor in the Faculty of Law at Oxford University. He advises public and private sector organisations on regulating the gig economy. In his book entitled Humans as a Service, Prassl re-evaluates the merits and pitfalls of the “gig economy” and seeks to discover ways that society might benefit from the gig economy without falling into “extreme forms” of labour force commodification (page 4).
For those of you wondering what the “gig economy” is, Prassl describes it as “…an ever-growing number of start-ups, […] online platforms and mobile apps [that] connect consumers, businesses, and workers – often for jobs lasting no longer than a few minutes” (page 2). The term “gig” invokes an artist’s gig for a time-limited and (usually) one-off performance.
This new and growing space labelled as the “gig economy” poses both opportunities and challenges. On one hand the digital space has enabled an unparalleled level of growth and innovation in the exchange of goods, services and other forms of capital at instant speeds – creating value for all participants (page 3). On the other hand, critics argue that a deregulated gig economy leads to a commodification of labour whereby “those with money will be able to […] hire those without money by forcing an online bidding war to see who will charge the least for their labour” (Ibid.).
The book seems to be written with the “educated reader” in mind. The author makes extensive use of practical examples whilst limiting overuse of legal jargon, which makes the book accessible to the specialist and non-specialist alike. The contents are structured among six main chapters and while we will not detail each in part here, we will touch upon some of the key points that may warrant further discussion.
Chapters I and II lay out the foundations of the gig economy: its internal workings, the role of digitalisation, the role of regulation (or lack thereof), and so on. Prassl points out that large actors within the gig economy are mistakenly given the benefit of the doubt when found guilty of mistreating their employees (or contractors). This is largely done by hiding under the “innovation” banner and perhaps abusing the public’s perception of innovation as a natural industry disruptor. Once section in the second chapter highlights the discrepancy between the authorities’ response to Mike Ashley’s Sports Direct zero-hours contracts scandal, and the ill treatment of ride sharing drivers for Lyft & Co. in the US (page 41-42). Prassl asks, “Why, then, is it that Mike Ashley was (rightly) subjected to parliamentary humiliation, whereas the sharing economy is celebrated by its very own cross-party caucus in the US Congress?” (Ibid.).
Chapters III and IV continue the discussion and look at life within the gig economy and the dilemmas that innovation can give rise to, particularly in respect to applying the appropriate level of regulation. Prassl points out an “innovation paradox”: “…it is undoubtedly true that key elements behind the rise of the sharing economy are completely new – first and foremost, their reliance on the internet, smartphone apps and digital platforms […] When it comes to work in the on-demand economy, on the other hand, the story is a very different one” (page 72). It is the capacity to accurately differentiate between the truly novel and the outwardly novel that policymakers will need if they are to develop an appropriate regulatory framework.
Chapters V and VI conclude the discussion by looking at various approaches of harnessing the benefits of the gig economy whilst restoring and protecting workers’ rights. Prassl argues that a key element is ensuring that everyone plays by the same rules, “…we need to redress structural imbalances and create a level playing field – with employment law at its foundation” (page 119).
To conclude, Humans as a Service by Jeremias Prassl is a great overview of the opportunities and challenges that the gig economy brings for all stakeholders involved. However, (and given that this piece of work is primarily written from a legal perspective), one cannot help but feel that insufficient voice has been given to the non-legal (or non-regulatory) solutions to the problems facing the gig economy. Some of these might include: allowing for market corrections and re-structuring, online reputation management, the implications of reputation damage, the increasing role of independent reviews in online decision-making, and so on. This would encompass a much broader discussion that the book sorely misses.
That is not to say these are unequivocal answers – yet a more thorough investigation into the non-regulatory means of transforming the gig economy would have benefited the book greatly. If readers can look beyond the “regulation is the answer” approach (which no doubt, some will), Humans as a Service is a good and informative read. It is just a shame that it missed the opportunity of being an excellent read. Perhaps an economist’s response to the book would help – let’s hope that we see such endeavour in the future.
Prassl, Jeremias. “Humans as a Service: The Promise and Perils of Work in the Gig Economy” was first published in 2018 by Oxford University Press (ISBN:9780192517388). 199pp.
Andrei E. Rogobete is the Associate Director of the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics. For more information about Andrei please click here.
This documentary is structured around interviews of tech experts who were pioneers at leading social media platforms and who came to realise that something important went wrong at some point. These views are expressed through a fictitious drama showing the impact of social media on the different members of a family. It is easily accessible to non-social media aficionados and articulates issues that most of us have intuitively perceived without being able to find the common thread running through them.
This Netflix documentary opens on a sombre note with an ominous quote from Sophocles, “nothing vast enters the life of mortals without a curse”, which is somewhat disconcerting. Unlike Greek tragedies, The Social Dilemma finishes on a carefully hopeful note whereby with greater awareness of the problem and willingness to discuss the issues, it can be fixed. But what exactly is the problem?
The realisation that the tech industry lost its way, making no room for ethical design or even questioning the moral implications, is clearly linked to the monetisation of the social media platforms. Their business model is unveiled and brought back to its essence: if you’re not paying for the product then you are the product. As Jaron Lanier, the American computer philosophy writer, puts it: “It is the gradual, slight, imperceptible change in your own behaviour and perception that is the product.” And the more you are using the platform, the more data feeds the system and therefore the better the prediction of your action. The picture starts getting really scary when you realise that cognitive psychology, especially how to persuade people, is built into the technology itself, deliberately exploiting vulnerability in human psychology. Tristan Harris puts it powerfully when he highlights that people usually recognise the danger when technology will overwhelm the human intelligence. An earlier moment is, however, perhaps more dangerous, namely when technology overwhelms human weaknesses, overpowering human nature and breeding among other things addiction, polarisation, and radicalisation.
Algorithms are originally programmed to a certain definition of success. If it is to maximise revenue, computer learning will improve and optimise towards that goal with no ethical constraints or concerns. Maximising engagement, growth and advertising targets will make algorithms ruthlessly manipulate our emotions and behaviours without us even being aware of it. As fake news travels six times faster on Twitter than the truth, the system has a bias towards disinformation as it makes more money for the company. A systematically individually customised information flow, designed by algorithms to maximise your engagement or watch time, sows division in society: people cannot hear a different opinion since they are being fed the one side of the story which their profile establishes they want to hear. Polarisation, going down rabbit holes, conspiracy theories, and radicalisation are all common manifestations of technology’s ability to destabilise the fabric of society. While we witness a technology-led assault on democracy, we should also worry about the use of technology by totalitarian regimes.
To conclude, this documentary highlights the fundamental issue that systems of algorithms are void of ethical consideration. Their ultimate goal is to maximise profit. AI cannot know what Truth is but people need to have a common perception of reality in order to live together. The positive note comes from the realisation by the tech experts, spearheaded by Tristan Harris, that they do have a moral responsibility to fix it. That starts with a conversation about what the problem is, which is exactly what this documentary succinctly achieves. It will be a difficult journey since any reform of the system will chart a collision course with the current business model of the powerful social media giants. Technology is a great force for good, but the moral dilemmas raised by the social media platforms need to be addressed transparently.
The Social Dilemma is directed by Jeff Orlowski and was first released on Netflix on 9th September 2020.
Anne Devlin is a director of Terra Solar II, a former oil trader with BP and a member of the Board of CEME.
Optimist or pessimist?
We stand on the edge of a technological revolution which is proceeding at an exponential pace and which will impact and alter our work and indeed our way of life in ways we can hardly imagine. The paradox of technological advance and of artificial intelligence is well recognized. Do these developments enhance human well-being and welfare to the benefit of all or is the threat posed to employment so dramatic that the traditional responses of education, reskilling and training will be insufficient to protect us? Some commentators refer to the present period of technological change as ‘the fourth industrial revolution.’ The first represented the move to mechanisation, the second, the introduction of electrical power, the third, digitisation and automation. The change we are now experience is one of exponential speed in processing, the impact of connectivity and access to knowledge that is transformational.
In The Rise of the Robots, Martin Ford essentially argues we are ill-equipped and poorly prepared to face the onslaught heading our way. His two main arguments proceed as follows. First, a change in the types of job which will be affected. The advance of digitisation has alerted society to the possibilities of automating routine processes – hence the advent of robotic methods in production replacing the traditional methods of assembly-line production in, for example, the car industry. This is a familiar story and the usual response is to educate, train and reskill. Ford argues that the problem now is that “the machines are coming for the high-wage, high-skill jobs as well” (page 27). Higher education and knowledge skills which traditionally attracted a premium will no longer protect the worker, so much so, he argues that “the ongoing race between technology and education may well be approaching the endgame” (page 124). Indeed, many professions will find that increasingly capable machines will take on many of the tasks previously seen as exclusive to certain professions such as the law. This is then linked to his second argument, that the ability to replicate and scale machine intelligence will “create winner-take-all scenarios’ with ‘dramatic implications for both the economy and society” (page 82). One example here would be the dominance of a very small number of book distribution platforms effectively eliminating all competition. To return to the example of the law, it is not that the high-street lawyer has digitised conveyancing documents; rather it is the speed and extent of access of processing power that can identify cases and precedents in an instant previously requiring hours in a legal library.
Martin Ford, then, is a pessimist. He understands and appreciates that technological advance has largely driven a more prosperous society. However, on this occasion, he thinks it will be different.
Erik Brynjolfsson and Andrew McAfee are optimists. In The Second Machine Age they do not deny the challenges but establish a framework that argues that “the transformations brought about by digital technology will be profoundly beneficial ones” (page 9), adding that “innovation is also the most important force that makes our society wealthier” (page 72) and “technological progress typically helps even the poorest people around the world” (page 168). They recognise the challenge to employment but remain convinced that “acquiring an excellent education is the best way to not be left behind as technology races ahead” (page 199). Brynjolfsson and McAffee agree with Ford that there are few jobs which will be left untouched by the scaling of digital power. However, they have more confidence in the innovative elements of the human person and human adaptability and flexibility which will enable humanity to seize the opportunities. Importantly, they also point out that despite the rhetoric “digital labour is still far from a complete substitute for human labour. Robots and computers, as powerful and capable as they are, are not about to take all of our jobs” (page 206). They argue that the best way to tackle the labour force challenges is to grow the economy and to encourage entrepreneurship – “entrepreneurship is the best way to create jobs and opportunity” (page 214).
How are we to assess these two approaches?
First, we need to recognise, as the authors of both these books do, that the shift we are experiencing is profound and will have enormous implications for business, industry and society as a whole. We cannot bury our head in the sand.
Secondly, the impact on employment and how we have traditionally responded points up many of the inadequacies of our education systems. If the optimism of Brynjolfsson and McAfee is to be the prevailing argument then life-long education and technical education will need to come back to the fore. What about reducing college degrees to 2-years and allowing the ‘third year’ to be credited to a personal training account to be accessed and used over the course of a person’s working career?
Thirdly, the nature of the human person cannot be overlooked. Humanity is endowed, by God, with ingenuity and creativity which will find expression in innovation and entrepreneurship. These activities are part of the very expression of the human character.
The issues are real and serious. Both of these books, and I recommend reading both together as it were, represent serious thought and insight and present the challenges in a well-researched and thought-provoking manner. For a Christian believer, optimism must win the day because of the nature of God and of the human person. However, the road will be bumpy, and for that optimism to prevail requires a degree of self-awareness, policy changes and collaboration across disciplines which have not been the recent characteristics of our society. However, to allow Brynjolfsson and McAfee the last word, the progress of digital technologies remain “the best economic news on the planet” (page xiii).
The Second Machine Age by Erik Brynjolfsson & Andrew McAfee was published in 2014 by W.W. Norton (ISBN:978-0-393-35064-7), 306pp
The Rise of the Robots by Martin Ford was first published in 2015 by OneWorld (ISBN: 978-1-78074848-1), 334pp
Dr Richard Turnbull is the Director of the Centre for Enterprise, Markets & Ethics (CEME). For more information about Richard please click here.
