In a heady, intelligent, and fascinating interview with Sarah Jeong from The Verge, Cory Doctorow—the famed internet activist—talks about how platforms have gotten worse over the years. Using Meta (Facebook) as an example, Doctorow explains their decline over time through a multi-stage process. Initially, it attracted users by promising not to spy on them and by showing them content from their friends, leveraging the difficulty of getting friends to switch platforms. Subsequently, Meta compromised user privacy by providing advertisers with surveillance data (aka ad tracking) and offered publishers traffic funnels, locking in business customers before ultimately degrading the experience for all users by filling feeds with paid content and pivoting to less desirable ventures like the Metaverse.

And publishers, [to get visibility on the platform,] they have to put the full text of their articles on Facebook now and no links back to their website.

Otherwise, they won’t be shown to anyone, much less their subscribers, and they’re now fully substitutive, right? And the only way they can monetize that is with Facebook’s rigged ad market and users find that the amount of stuff that they ask to see in their feed is dwindled to basically nothing, so that these voids can be filled with stuff people will pay to show them, and those people are getting ripped off. This is the equilibrium Mark Zuckerberg wants, right? Where all the available value has been withdrawn. But he has to contend with the fact that this is a very brittle equilibrium. The difference between, “I hate Facebook, but I can’t seem to stop using it,” and “I hate Facebook and I’m not going to use it anymore,” is so brittle that if you get a live stream mass shooting or a whistleblower or a privacy scandal like Cambridge Analytica, people will flee.

Francesca Bria and her collaborators analyzed open-source datasets of “over 250 actors, thousands of verified connections, and $45 billion in documented financial flows” to come up with a single-page website visually showing such connections.

J.D. Vance, propelled to the vice-presidency by $15 million from Peter Thiel, became the face of tech-right governance. Behind him, Thiel’s network moved into the machinery of the state.

Under the banner of “patriotic tech”, this new bloc is building the infrastructure of control—clouds, AI, finance, drones, satellites—an integrated system we call the Authoritarian Stack. It is faster, ideological, and fully privatized: a regime where corporate boards, not public law, set the rules.

Our investigation shows how these firms now operate as state-like powers—writing the rules, winning the tenders, and exporting their model to Europe, where it poses a direct challenge to democratic governance.

Make no mistake: Democracy in America has been under threat. The Executive branch continues to accrue and abuse power, much of it willingly given up by Congress, and the Supreme Court has largely given deference to this president.

In a beautiful, yet somehow haunting visualization, Alvin Chang for the Pudding went back and analyzed speeches in Congress from 1880 onward to show the growth of mentions about democracy being under threat.

Scroll through the interactive data viz and see the numbers tick up over the years, along with select quotes from speeches.

Chang ends with this reflection:

I grew up in an immigrant family, and I was constantly reminded of how powerful these values are. Sure, my family had some allegiance to their home country. Sure, we were constantly reminded of ways in which the country failed to live up to these ideals. However, I was told that we live in a country that is united not by the color of our skin or the origins of our families, but rather a belief in how humans should live together.

Americans have always argued about what it means to strive toward these democratic ideals. This pursuit of democracy is who we are; it’s who we want to be.

If we stop now, who are we as a people?

(h/t Nathan Yau / FlowingData)

In the modern era, it was Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign that felt designed. The mark was perfect, the typography consistent—and made Gotham ubiquitous. All the materials just felt they were following brand guidelines—because they were.

In her piece for PRINT Magazine, Amelia Nash gathers five designers to talk about political design. This is a quote from Min Lew, partner at Base Design:

Political design turns ideals into imagery. The best work does more than convince. It invites people in, helping them feel part of something bigger. In a noisy, fragmented media landscape, design can cut through, speaking to emotion before intellect. 

Design doesn’t decide politics, but it shapes how politics is perceived, and perception often becomes reality. The real question is how the design can be done thoughtfully, with integrity, and with intention.

In my most recent post, I called out our design profession, for our part in developing these addictive products. Jeffrey Inscho, brings it back up to the tech industry at large and observes they’re actually publishers:

The executives at these companies will tell you they’re neutral platforms, that they don’t choose what content gets seen. This is a lie. Every algorithmic recommendation is an editorial decision. When YouTube’s algorithm suggests increasingly extreme political content to keep someone watching, that’s editorial. When Facebook’s algorithm amplifies posts that generate angry reactions, that’s editorial. When Twitter’s trending algorithms surface conspiracy theories, that’s editorial.

They are publishers. They have always been publishers. They just don’t want the responsibility that comes with being publishers.

His point is that if these social media platforms are sorting and promoting posts, it’s an editorial approach and they should be treated like newspapers. “It’s like a newspaper publisher claiming they’re not responsible for what appears on their front page because they didn’t write the articles themselves.”

The answer, Inscho argues, is regulation of the algorithms.

As a child of immigrant parents, I grew up learning English from watching PBS, Sesame Street, specifically. But there were other favorites like 3-2-1 Contact, The Electric Company, and of course, Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood. The logo, with its head looking like a P was seared into my developing brain.

So I’m incredibly saddened to hear that the Corporation for Public Broadcasting, the government-funded entity behind PBS and NPR, will cease operations on September 30, 2025, because of a recent bill passed by the Republican-controlled Congress and signed into law by President Trump.

While PBS and NPR won’t disappear, it will be harder for those networks to stay afloat, now solely dependent on donations.

Lilly Smith, writing for Fast Company:

More than 70% of CPB’s annual federal appropriation goes directly to more than 1,500 local public media stations, according to a web page of its financials. This loss in funding could force local stations, especially in rural areas, to shut down, according to the CPB. Local member stations are independent and locally owned and operated, according to NPR. As a public-private partnership, local PBS stations get about 15% of their revenue from federal funding.

She reached out to Tom Geismar, who redesigned the PBS logo in 1984—the original was by Herb Lubalin and Ernie Smith in 1971. He had this perspective:

There is an ironic tie-in between the government decision to cut off all funding to public television and public radio, and what prompted the redesign of the PBS logo back in the early 1980s.

That was also a difficult time, financially, for the Public Broadcasting Service, and especially the stations in more remote regions of the country. Much of the public equated PBS with the major television networks CBS, NBC and ABC, and presumed that, like those major institutions, PBS was the parent of and significant funder for all the local public television stations throughout the country. But, in fact, the reality is somewhat the opposite. Although PBS local affiliates received a portion of funding from the federal government, it is the individual stations that have the responsibility to do public fund raising, and PBS, in a sense, works for them.

Because of this confusion, the PBS leadership felt that their existing logo (a famous design by by Herb Lubalin) needed to be more than just the classic 3-initials mark, something more evocative of a public-benefit system serving all people. Thus the “everyone” mark was born.

Geismar ends with, “And now, once again, with federal government funding stopped, it is the stations in the less populous regions who will suffer the most.”