I have just finished reading Adele Zynep Walton’s book ‘Logging Off: The Human Cost of Our digital World’. It is a powerful indictment of so-called ‘Big Tech’ and the proliferation of social media platforms and online forums which have caused a radical societal change – and from her experiences, by no means for the better.
I learnt that Adele Zeynep Walton is young – 25 years old
and so firmly defined as Gen-Z. For her, the digital world has been a lifeline, a
source of income and a creative outlet which developed into a career in journalism.
She shows her aptitude for content-creation from an early age. She knows the environment of which she writes,
and it is a revelation for any reader who has not had a parallel experience. She is the difference between those of us who saw
the beginning of the digital age at a time well after the development of some
life experience and full development of the pre-frontal cortex, let’s say, and
those who had smartphone technology and social media access in all its forms from teen or indeed pre-teen years.
Yes, we find, social media helped Walton build a career in a competitive industry, but it also contributed to the conditions that led to her sister’s death. Her message is stark: the digital world, as currently designed, is failing us.
The book shows how thirty years online have reshaped our
lives more profoundly than any previous technological shift. We have built
global communities, unlocked new industries and democratised creativity. Yet
the same systems that connect us now expose us to harms previous generations
could never have imagined — and we are only beginning to understand the
consequences.
She argues that today’s platforms profit from our anxieties,
insecurities and vulnerabilities. Algorithms reward outrage. Engagement metrics
shape our self‑worth. Harmful content spreads faster than support. And while
technology companies accumulate wealth, ordinary users — especially young people —
absorb the psychological fallout.
Governments are now scrambling to respond. The UK’s
regulatory approach shows how difficult this balance has become. Efforts to
protect users from harm must coexist with commitments to free speech, privacy
and innovation. That’s why journalism and political discourse are shielded from
over‑moderation, why the concept of ‘legal but harmful’ content for adults was dropped, and
why encrypted messaging cannot be forced open unless privacy‑preserving
scanning becomes technically feasible. Regulators want to protect people
without creating a surveillance state or choking off small‑scale innovation.
But these compromises also reveal the limits of traditional
regulation. Platforms can be fined billions, governments can create crisis protocols and impose
duties of care — yet none of this changes the underlying business model that
rewards emotional manipulation and constant engagement. The harms Walton
describes are not glitches; they are features of systems optimised for profit,
not wellbeing.
In fact, regulation has barely touched this core issue. Governments focus on illegal content, encryption, or crisis protocols. For Walton, that is a story, but not the main one. The main story is that the addictive architecture of platforms remains largely untouched. The algorithms that shape our digital lives operate in secrecy, optimised for engagement rather than safety. Until these design philosophies are challenged head‑on, the harms Walton describes will persist.
The real debate is not regulation versus liberty. It is
whether we can redesign the digital world so that safety and freedom reinforce
each other rather than compete. Protecting users should not require
weakening encryption. Supporting free speech should not mean tolerating
harassment or exploitation. Innovation should not depend on extracting ever
more data from users who barely understand how it is used. These are areas which Walton's book explores with energy and understanding.
But she is also a realist, and knows that value of digital connectivity, and she understands also the generation gap which persists for the older generation, and how the ever-evolving technologies in daily life impinge on the confidence of many.
She tells a particularly heartwarming story of how she came across an advert in the community press saying, 'intelligent pensioner requires smartphone tuition.' She immediately felt that she wanted to help. Tony was an 87 year old, intelligent and aware, but unable to use the mobile phone for which had already paid a year of his contract. In an interview by Emma Wigmore 22 October 2024 for the University of Sussex she says "it just seemed like just the right thing to do. So, I replied to the advert and met Tony. We're still friends today. Over the years, I've taught him how to use his phone, but when I met him he didn't even know how to turn it on, let alone look up bus times, use maps, text, or call people."
Hers, it seems to me , to be a voice worth listening to. She is a realist, but also writes at the core of the problem of how social media and the monetised online world continues to commodify every individual as a product to be exploited. Is this 'liberty'? And if so, whose liberty?