Check out our innovative home and kitchen tools to make cooking and beverages more enjoyable

Style Switcher

Predefined Colors

What happens to your body when you eat spicy food?


Let the bloggers blog.
Image: Enrique Das / 7Cera / Getty Images

Every so often, someone will act very angry online because a recipe they clicked on has “too much text.” They wanted to make mushroom ravioli, but instead had to scroll through a bunch of words about what mushroom ravioli means to a blogger’s family. Boring!

It’s true that many (if not most) food bloggers write long narratives preceding their recipes. Sometimes, they explain how they developed the recipe. Other times, they share why they chose to post this particular food, or explain the modifications they’ve made to accommodate family members with dietary restrictions. They might share a story about the dish providing them comfort in a difficult time, or how cooking the dish with a loved one healed a broken relationship. Food is personal, after all; it comes with stories. 

So why do so many people rush to mock them?

Cadry Nelson, a food blogger who runs the vegan website Cadry’s Kitchen, includes narratives with her recipes regularly. (She’s also written an essay about recipe narratives.) This is partially because she wanted to document her transition to veganism, the context in which she developed much of her work. In doing so, she’d create a reference point for readers curious about going vegan themselves.

“I was trying a lot of produce I’d never had before, as well as re-creating old familiar flavors but without meat, dairy, and eggs,” she explained in an interview. “I didn’t have many other friends who were vegan at that point.”

Sharing this information doesn’t just benefit her readers, either. It also helps her secure a place in the saturated food blog realm. “Through these posts, I’ve gotten to know bloggers’ flavor preferences too,” Nelson said. By sharing stories on blogs, people get to know the types of foods [and] flavors that specific recipe creators enjoy. You figure out who is a good match for your own palate.”

So why do people have such an issue with people writing about their own food? It seems to come down to convenience. Generally, perturbed readers complain that it takes too long for them to scroll down to the recipe itself.

Historian Kevin Kruse, for example, tweeted his disdain for recipe narratives last weekend: “Hey, cooking websites?” he wrote. “I don’t really need a thousand words about how you discovered the recipe or the feelings it evoked for you … I’m trying to feed my family. No need to curate the experience for me.”

“GIMME THE RECIPE HON MY SCROLL FINGER HURTS,” tweeted Chelsea Peretti last November.

Admittedly, it is irritating when anything is difficult to find on the internet, especially when we’ve come to expect an easy-as-pie user experience from every app and every website. It can feel like a slog to scroll through paragraphs of text when all you want is a list of ingredients.

But the thing to interrogate here isn’t necessarily whether blocks of text are annoying — it’s why people think these particular blocks of text don’t deserve to exist.

Nelson thinks there’s an element of sexism to the critiques she sees about recipe writing. Home cooking is still a deeply gendered pursuit, and writers whose work centers on home cooking are still perceived as less professional, less valuable, and less worthy voices.  “The feeling seems to be that they don’t think these writers have something of value to offer,” Nelson said.

There’s been high-profile backlash to the backlash against recipe narratives. After Kruse’s tweet, Smitten Kitchen creator Deb Perelman tweeted a thread on the matter, encouraging recipe writers to “write as long and as in-depth as your heart desires about recipes and anything else they drum up in your mind and ignore anyone who says you shouldn’t.”

Like Nelson, she also called out detractors’ casual sexism. “Congratulations, you’ve found a new, not particularly original, way to say ‘shut up and cook,'” she tweeted. “I just don’t see don’t see the same pushback when male chefs write about their wild days or basically anything. Do you?”

“I wish more people who cooked got to tell their stories,” she added.

There’s also a more technical element at play where recipe narratives are concerned: search engine optimization (SEO). Recipe bloggers want to catch the attention of the illusive Google algorithm —  and, ideally, land their recipe on the coveted first page — so they must demonstrate “authority” in their field. This means more comprehensive content, which is really hard to pull off with a concise recipe alone. (Tons of people will be using the phrase “apple crumble,” for example, but only you can write your own story about it.)

“When I’m writing, I try to tell a story that has a hook as well as please[s] the Google algorithm,” Nelson said. “I do keyword research … I see what kinds of questions people have around the topic, and look for ways to anticipate their problems, and answer their questions, so that they will have a successful cooking experience. Lately, I’ve been adding more step-by-step pictures of how to make dishes, as well as videos, because Google says that readers want that.”

‘I wish more people who cooked got to tell their stories.’

Even though she’s noticed people criticizing lengthy posts, Nelson maintains that writing a lot — authoritatively, of course — is what’s going to get eyes on her recipes. “People say they want shorter posts, but Google values information,” she said. “It’s hard to give information without using some words along the way.”

SEO and marketing experts agree that Nelson’s approach is a smart one, especially in such a saturated landscape. “Because a recipe usually consists of a listing of ingredients and steps, it’s often very difficult for a search engine to discern what this article is trying to convey,” Pete Herrnreiter, who is the VP of digital strategy at The Motion Agency, explained via email. “By developing a richer upfront with background on the dish … it [helps to] define the post.”

Content strategist Abby Sanders, who works for Von Mack Agency, also emphasized the advantages of differentiating one’s recipe from the pack. “These days, search engines are pretty effective at determining whether a page can serve as an ‘expert source’ on a specific query,” she said. “So any additional content that includes certain keywords, as long as it’s coherent and well-written, will improve that page’s ranking.”

As a caveat, Sanders mentioned, there are “plenty of other factors that play a role in rankings, such as domain authority, links to that page, and the list goes on. But from a sheer content standpoint, it does make good sense for a food blogger to write some extra, interesting copy around their subject.”

So, fine. Finding a list of chili ingredients would be easier if we didn’t have to scroll. But recipe bloggers are writers, and they have stories to share that are poignant, funny, and valuable — even if you (and I) don’t love every single one you read. And if you really don’t like the narratives? There are plenty of places for you to find story-free recipes online, though you might have to pay for a subscription to see some of them. Also, cookbooks exist.

“My food blog is my own. It’s my creative space. I spend a lot of time testing the recipes, taking photographs, making videos, and writing my stories,” Nelson said. “If people aren’t interested in any aspect, so be it.”

“My blog is Cadry’s Kitchen. It’s literally the place where I cook,” she added. “I don’t know why I would write myself out of it.”

Read more: https://mashable.com/article/why-are-there-long-stories-on-food-blogs/

Read More

Snugglefest was the Valentine’s Day party you wish you’d gone to

A lonely guy pretended to get stood up on a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner at Outback, wasted hours of a well-meaning but clueless server’s night, and went home with a free meal. Outback even offered him another free meal — provided he bring a real date. 

27-year-old Stephen Bosner spent Feb. 14 on a mission: To bring home a free steak. He made a reservation for two at America’s favorite Australian-ish fast casual steakhouse, donned a suit jacket, and packed some tissue paper into plastic bag as a makeshift “gift.” He walked in, dateless, and told the host that the 10-minute wait was fine because
“she said she was running a bit late anyway.”

But his date didn’t exist — Bosner was doing it all for a bit. He spent the night live tweeting the date that never was, documenting the reactions of his waiter and the Valentine’s Day revelers around him.

He started with a beer for himself and a glass of Chardonnay for his phantom girlfriend. He left classic “let me know when you’re on your way” voicemail as the waiter walked by. He picked through one loaf of starter bread, and then didn’t even bother to slice the second, choosing to stuff the sad loaf directly into his mouth.

Still parked at the table 15 minutes before the kitchen closed, Bosner chugged his date’s wine straight from the decanter as his waiter walked by. 

“I’ve never seen someone scoop glassware as smoothly as he took the untouched glass and empty decanter from the table,” Bosner tweeted. “Every single person within eye range has glanced at me at some point during the evening.”

Naming his date’s untouched silverware “Katherine,” Bosner pretended to call his wayward girlfriend loudly enough for everyone at the bar. 

“I take it you’re probably not gonna make it so …” he trailed off in the fake voicemail, adding enough of a pause for his audience to hear the sounds of people actually having good dates. “I guess I’ll talk to you later. Hope everything’s OK, hope nothing bad happened.”

It’s pathetic and hilarious, but a major dick move. Bosner made the waitstaff stay past their shift so he could forlornly stare at his steak 25 minutes past closing time. He started crying and ate dropped mac and cheese off the floor, eventually garnering enough sympathy for a nearby couple to pay for his meal for him. 

When the waiter came to clear the table, he tried to offer words of wisdom “like a father telling his son that Grandma died.” 

“Take care of yourself,” the concerned waiter told Bosner, clearly pitying the grifter. “Don’t let them get you down.”

To pay it forward, he left the waiter a $20 and donated $50 to the American Civil Liberties Union.

“Otherwise,” he told the Washington Post  “I’m going to have some real bad karma coming my way.” 

Once the thread went viral, Outback even reached out and offered to cover his next date. 

But some Twitter users didn’t find it funny at all, and  criticized Bosner for wasting the server’s time. In addition to keeping the staff late, the server could have made well over $20 in tips by turning the table to other paying customers. Instead, he had to awkwardly deal with a fake sad dude, who used his empathy for a Twitter joke. 

According to Vice, scamming his way into a free meal was better than Bosner’s original Valentine’s Day plans. 

“I figured, why not? It was better than sitting at home watching The Office again,” he explained. 

While the thread is funny to read, maybe don’t be a jerk to people who work in the service industry. 

Read more: https://mashable.com/article/guy-pretends-to-get-stood-up-valentines-day-outback-date/

Read More

These skeleton-like sculptures look remarkably alive

Image: Getty Images

Good morning, everyone. Apparently we’re mad about towels. 

Scrolling through Twitter on Monday, you might have seen a feed full of people arguing over the amount of towels you’re supposed to own. The Great Towel Debate started when Twitter user @Advil asked followers to settle an argument between him and his girlfriend. 

“We have zero frame of reference on the appropriate amount of towels in a household of two,” he tweeted. 

People understandably had hot takes, but the hottest of them all was from Huffington Post writer Yashar Ali, who claimed that couples should “own a minimum” of 50 total towels. 50! Where do you even store that many towels?

Ali added that couples should own “preferably more.”

He also clarified the difference between a bath sheet and a bath towel, which rightfully blew people’s minds. 

It was only a matter of time before people starting passive aggressively tweeting about towels. 

Even the dictionary weighed in. 

And searches for “bath sheet” spiked on Google. 

“As a couple, you should own a minimum of …” became a brief meme. 

Looks like everyone has an opinion on towels. 

Read more: https://mashable.com/article/twitter-towels-as-a-couple-you-should-own-a-minimum-of/

Read More

11 times J.K. Rowling tweeted awesome advice to budding writers


J.K. Rowling has got your back.
Image: Samir Hussein/WireImage

Without wanting to sound like too much of a pathetic millennial, writing can be hard work.

It can be, OK?

Particularly if you’re working on something long, like a novel, it’s good to have some support and encouragement every now and again.

J.K. Rowling knows this better than most people. If you head over to the Harry Potter author’s Twitter feed, nestled among all those sweet shutdowns you’ll find plenty of helpful writing tips, as well as stories from Rowling about what it was like for her before she became a household name.

From editing advice to firsthand experiences, here are some of the tips she’s tweeted over the years.

1. The time she gave these awesome words of encouragement to a demotivated writer.

2. The time she made it clear you don’t necessarily need the best equipment.

3. This heartfelt message of encouragement.

4. This advice to a budding writer who lacked parental support.

5. This crucial rereading tip.

6. The time she proved that rejection is just another rung on the ladder.

7. And then shared two of her own rejection letters as inspiration.

8. The time she made it clear just how far she was prepared to go to get her book published.

9. And then explained what was driving her.

10. The time she replied to this tweet about the importance of completing a writing project.

11. And then rounded off a fairly epic series of tweets with this message of hope.

Now go and finish that novel.

Read more: https://mashable.com/2018/01/27/jk-rowling-writing-advice-tweets/

Read More

Man makes 32-point Twitter thread about what it’s like to live with girls, goes viral

You’d think observations about what it’s like to live with the opposite sex would be pretty much old hat by now.

Surely, now that we’re in 2017, it’s all been said before at some point?

Well, maybe — but Roberto Carlos’ 32-point Twitter list about what it’s like to live with all girls for a week certainly seems to have struck some chord.

Here’s the thread in full:

That thread now has well over 100,000 retweets, and was recently made into a Twitter Moment.

Many of the responses are along these lines:

Surely it’s only a matter of time before the “living with just boys for a week” counter-thread goes live?

Read more: http://mashable.com/2017/12/22/living-with-just-girls-viral-twitter-thread/

Read More

A timeline of the rogue Twitter employee’s last day at work before deleting Trump’s account

Image: mashable composite. max knoblauch; shutterstock

This post is a part of Mashable Humor. It is not real. We drew the bird, though, and think it’s pretty good.

A Twitter customer support employee is responsible for temporarily deactivating the account of President Trump for 11 minutes on Thursday night, just before 7:00 p.m. EST. According to a statement from the company, it was said employee’s last day, and they acted without the approval of anyone else at Twitter.

What follows is a comprehensive timeline of the “rogue” employee’s infamous last day at Twitter HQ.

9:05 a.m.: Employee arrives at office on their last day. Employee sits at desk.

9:15 a.m.: Employee’s manager approaches, asks employee if they received email. “I haven’t checked my email,” employee replies. “Oh, okay. Well, when you get a chance,” manager answers. The employee will not look at the email.

9:20 a.m.: Employee tells coworker Devin that his coffee mug is on their desk, technically, and has been every day for several months.

9:25 a.m.: Employee leaves for “early lunch.”

1:15 p.m.: Employee returns from lunch.

1:19 p.m.: Employee sends email recommending lunch spot’s Moscow Mules to full New York office.

1:25 p.m.: Employee forwards Moscow Mule email to global staff list with message, “In case any of you are ever in town.”

1:30 p.m.: Using Sharpie, employee writes, “This bread taste like DOGGGG SHIT” on a loaf of bread in the employee kitchen.

1:35 p.m.: Employee reminds coworker Devin about the coffee mug’s location, asking him, “Did you know?”

1:40 p.m.: Employee leaves for “late lunch.”

4:10 p.m.: Employee returns from late lunch.

4:45 p.m.: During team meeting, employee is asked to say a few words. Employee uses full time to again recommend the Moscow Mules. The employee has worked at Twitter for 4 years.

5:00 p.m.: Employee enters back room and adjusts office thermostat to 68 degrees.

5:03 p.m.: Employee arrives at HR for exit interview.

5:10 p.m.: Employee responds to HR’s question of, “How do you feel about your time here?” with simply, “Bad.”

5:12 p.m.: Employee responds to HR’s question of, “Is there anything you feel you have not been able to do in your time here?” with, “Delete the president’s Twitter.” Employee tells HR they think they will be deleting President Trump’s account later in the day. The HR representative chuckles.

5:15 p.m.: Employee returns to desk.

5:30 p.m.: Employee watches the first 25 minutes of Netflix’s What the Health at desk without headphones.

5:55 p.m.: Employee says, “Wow.”

5:56 p.m.: Employee messages manager that the office chairs are very uncomfortable. Manager replies with, “Well, I don’t furnish the office lol.” Employee replies, “I do not like you and I have not liked you for some time now.” Manager does not reply.

6:00 p.m.: Employee stands on desk and announces that they will be drinking Moscow Mules at the lunch spot nearby if anyone wants to go.

6:48 p.m.: Employee returns to office to retrieve coat.

6:49 p.m.: Employee throws Devin’s mug in the garbage.

6:50 p.m.: Employee deactivates the president’s Twitter account.

6:55 p.m.: Employee returns to lunch spot for Moscow Mules.

Read more: http://mashable.com/2017/11/04/rogue-twitter-employee-deletes-trump-timeline-satire/

Read More

‘Our minds can be hijacked’: the tech insiders who fear a smartphone dystopia

The Google, Apple and Facebook workers who helped make technology so addictive are disconnecting themselves from the internet. Paul Lewis reports on the Silicon Valley refuseniks who worry the race for human attention has created a world of perpetual distraction that could ultimately end in disaster

Justin Rosenstein had tweaked his laptops operating system to block Reddit, banned himself from Snapchat, which he compares to heroin, and imposed limits on his use of Facebook. But even that wasnt enough. In August, the 34-year-old tech executive took a more radical step to restrict his use of social media and other addictive technologies.

Rosenstein purchased a new iPhone and instructed his assistant to set up a parental-control feature to prevent him from downloading any apps.

He was particularly aware of the allure of Facebook likes, which he describes as bright dings of pseudo-pleasure that can be as hollow as they are seductive. And Rosenstein should know: he was the Facebook engineer who created the like button in the first place.

A decade after he stayed up all night coding a prototype of what was then called an awesome button, Rosenstein belongs to a small but growing band of Silicon Valley heretics who complain about the rise of the so-called attention economy: an internet shaped around the demands of an advertising economy.

These refuseniks are rarely founders or chief executives, who have little incentive to deviate from the mantra that their companies are making the world a better place. Instead, they tend to have worked a rung or two down the corporate ladder: designers, engineers and product managers who, like Rosenstein, several years ago put in place the building blocks of a digital world from which they are now trying to disentangle themselves. It is very common, Rosenstein says, for humans to develop things with the best of intentions and for them to have unintended, negative consequences.

Rosenstein, who also helped create Gchat during a stint at Google, and now leads a San Francisco-based company that improves office productivity, appears most concerned about the psychological effects on people who, research shows, touch, swipe or tap their phone 2,617 times a day.

There is growing concern that as well as addicting users, technology is contributing toward so-called continuous partial attention, severely limiting peoples ability to focus, and possibly lowering IQ. One recent study showed that the mere presence of smartphones damages cognitive capacity even when the device is turned off. Everyone is distracted, Rosenstein says. All of the time.

But those concerns are trivial compared with the devastating impact upon the political system that some of Rosensteins peers believe can be attributed to the rise of social media and the attention-based market that drives it.

Drawing a straight line between addiction to social media and political earthquakes like Brexit and the rise of Donald Trump, they contend that digital forces have completely upended the political system and, left unchecked, could even render democracy as we know it obsolete.

In 2007, Rosenstein was one of a small group of Facebook employees who decided to create a path of least resistance a single click to send little bits of positivity across the platform. Facebooks like feature was, Rosenstein says, wildly successful: engagement soared as people enjoyed the short-term boost they got from giving or receiving social affirmation, while Facebook harvested valuable data about the preferences of users that could be sold to advertisers. The idea was soon copied by Twitter, with its heart-shaped likes (previously star-shaped favourites), Instagram, and countless other apps and websites.

It was Rosensteins colleague, Leah Pearlman, then a product manager at Facebook and on the team that created the Facebook like, who announced the feature in a 2009 blogpost. Now 35 and an illustrator, Pearlman confirmed via email that she, too, has grown disaffected with Facebook likes and other addictive feedback loops. She has installed a web browser plug-in to eradicate her Facebook news feed, and hired a social media manager to monitor her Facebook page so that she doesnt have to.

Justin
Justin Rosenstein, the former Google and Facebook engineer who helped build the like button: Everyone is distracted. All of the time. Photograph: Courtesy of Asana Communications

One reason I think it is particularly important for us to talk about this now is that we may be the last generation that can remember life before, Rosenstein says. It may or may not be relevant that Rosenstein, Pearlman and most of the tech insiders questioning todays attention economy are in their 30s, members of the last generation that can remember a world in which telephones were plugged into walls.

It is revealing that many of these younger technologists are weaning themselves off their own products, sending their children to elite Silicon Valley schools where iPhones, iPads and even laptops are banned. They appear to be abiding by a Biggie Smalls lyric from their own youth about the perils of dealing crack cocaine: never get high on your own supply.

One morning in April this year, designers, programmers and tech entrepreneurs from across the world gathered at a conference centre on the shore of the San Francisco Bay. They had each paid up to $1,700 to learn how to manipulate people into habitual use of their products, on a course curated by conference organiser Nir Eyal.

Eyal, 39, the author of Hooked: How to Build Habit-Forming Products, has spent several years consulting for the tech industry, teaching techniques he developed by closely studying how the Silicon Valley giants operate.

The technologies we use have turned into compulsions, if not full-fledged addictions, Eyal writes. Its the impulse to check a message notification. Its the pull to visit YouTube, Facebook, or Twitter for just a few minutes, only to find yourself still tapping and scrolling an hour later. None of this is an accident, he writes. It is all just as their designers intended.

He explains the subtle psychological tricks that can be used to make people develop habits, such as varying the rewards people receive to create a craving, or exploiting negative emotions that can act as triggers. Feelings of boredom, loneliness, frustration, confusion and indecisiveness often instigate a slight pain or irritation and prompt an almost instantaneous and often mindless action to quell the negative sensation, Eyal writes.

Attendees of the 2017 Habit Summit might have been surprised when Eyal walked on stage to announce that this years keynote speech was about something a little different. He wanted to address the growing concern that technological manipulation was somehow harmful or immoral. He told his audience that they should be careful not to abuse persuasive design, and wary of crossing a line into coercion.

But he was defensive of the techniques he teaches, and dismissive of those who compare tech addiction to drugs. Were not freebasing Facebook and injecting Instagram here, he said. He flashed up a slide of a shelf filled with sugary baked goods. Just as we shouldnt blame the baker for making such delicious treats, we cant blame tech makers for making their products so good we want to use them, he said. Of course thats what tech companies will do. And frankly: do we want it any other way?

Without irony, Eyal finished his talk with some personal tips for resisting the lure of technology. He told his audience he uses a Chrome extension, called DF YouTube, which scrubs out a lot of those external triggers he writes about in his book, and recommended an app called Pocket Points that rewards you for staying off your phone when you need to focus.

Finally, Eyal confided the lengths he goes to protect his own family. He has installed in his house an outlet timer connected to a router that cuts off access to the internet at a set time every day. The idea is to remember that we are not powerless, he said. We are in control.

But are we? If the people who built these technologies are taking such radical steps to wean themselves free, can the rest of us reasonably be expected to exercise our free will?

Not according to Tristan Harris, a 33-year-old former Google employee turned vocal critic of the tech industry. All of us are jacked into this system, he says. All of our minds can be hijacked. Our choices are not as free as we think they are.

Harris, who has been branded the closest thing Silicon Valley has to a conscience, insists that billions of people have little choice over whether they use these now ubiquitous technologies, and are largely unaware of the invisible ways in which a small number of people in Silicon Valley are shaping their lives.

A graduate of Stanford University, Harris studied under BJ Fogg, a behavioural psychologist revered in tech circles for mastering the ways technological design can be used to persuade people. Many of his students, including Eyal, have gone on to prosperous careers in Silicon Valley.

Tristan
Tristan Harris, a former Google employee, is now a critic of the tech industry: Our choices are not as free as we think they are. Photograph: Robert Gumpert for the Guardian

Harris is the student who went rogue; a whistleblower of sorts, he is lifting the curtain on the vast powers accumulated by technology companies and the ways they are using that influence. A handful of people, working at a handful of technology companies, through their choices will steer what a billion people are thinking today, he said at a recent TED talk in Vancouver.

I dont know a more urgent problem than this, Harris says. Its changing our democracy, and its changing our ability to have the conversations and relationships that we want with each other. Harris went public giving talks, writing papers, meeting lawmakers and campaigning for reform after three years struggling to effect change inside Googles Mountain View headquarters.

It all began in 2013, when he was working as a product manager at Google, and circulated a thought-provoking memo, A Call To Minimise Distraction & Respect Users Attention, to 10 close colleagues. It struck a chord, spreading to some 5,000 Google employees, including senior executives who rewarded Harris with an impressive-sounding new job: he was to be Googles in-house design ethicist and product philosopher.

Looking back, Harris sees that he was promoted into a marginal role. I didnt have a social support structure at all, he says. Still, he adds: I got to sit in a corner and think and read and understand.

He explored how LinkedIn exploits a need for social reciprocity to widen its network; how YouTube and Netflix autoplay videos and next episodes, depriving users of a choice about whether or not they want to keep watching; how Snapchat created its addictive Snapstreaks feature, encouraging near-constant communication between its mostly teenage users.

The techniques these companies use are not always generic: they can be algorithmically tailored to each person. An internal Facebook report leaked this year, for example, revealed that the company can identify when teens feel insecure, worthless and need a confidence boost. Such granular information, Harris adds, is a perfect model of what buttons you can push in a particular person.

Tech companies can exploit such vulnerabilities to keep people hooked; manipulating, for example, when people receive likes for their posts, ensuring they arrive when an individual is likely to feel vulnerable, or in need of approval, or maybe just bored. And the very same techniques can be sold to the highest bidder. Theres no ethics, he says. A company paying Facebook to use its levers of persuasion could be a car business targeting tailored advertisements to different types of users who want a new vehicle. Or it could be a Moscow-based troll farm seeking to turn voters in a swing county in Wisconsin.

Harris believes that tech companies never deliberately set out to make their products addictive. They were responding to the incentives of an advertising economy, experimenting with techniques that might capture peoples attention, even stumbling across highly effective design by accident.

A friend at Facebook told Harris that designers initially decided the notification icon, which alerts people to new activity such as friend requests or likes, should be blue. It fit Facebooks style and, the thinking went, would appear subtle and innocuous. But no one used it, Harris says. Then they switched it to red and of course everyone used it.

Facebooks
Facebooks headquarters in Menlo Park, California. The companys famous likes feature has been described by its creator as bright dings of pseudo-pleasure. Photograph: Bloomberg/Bloomberg via Getty Images

That red icon is now everywhere. When smartphone users glance at their phones, dozens or hundreds of times a day, they are confronted with small red dots beside their apps, pleading to be tapped. Red is a trigger colour, Harris says. Thats why it is used as an alarm signal.

The most seductive design, Harris explains, exploits the same psychological susceptibility that makes gambling so compulsive: variable rewards. When we tap those apps with red icons, we dont know whether well discover an interesting email, an avalanche of likes, or nothing at all. It is the possibility of disappointment that makes it so compulsive.

Its this that explains how the pull-to-refresh mechanism, whereby users swipe down, pause and wait to see what content appears, rapidly became one of the most addictive and ubiquitous design features in modern technology. Each time youre swiping down, its like a slot machine, Harris says. You dont know whats coming next. Sometimes its a beautiful photo. Sometimes its just an ad.

The designer who created the pull-to-refresh mechanism, first used to update Twitter feeds, is Loren Brichter, widely admired in the app-building community for his sleek and intuitive designs.

Now 32, Brichter says he never intended the design to be addictive but would not dispute the slot machine comparison. I agree 100%, he says. I have two kids now and I regret every minute that Im not paying attention to them because my smartphone has sucked me in.

Brichter created the feature in 2009 for Tweetie, his startup, mainly because he could not find anywhere to fit the refresh button on his app. Holding and dragging down the feed to update seemed at the time nothing more than a cute and clever fix. Twitter acquired Tweetie the following year, integrating pull-to-refresh into its own app.

Since then the design has become one of the most widely emulated features in apps; the downward-pull action is, for hundreds of millions of people, as intuitive as scratching an itch.

Brichter says he is puzzled by the longevity of the feature. In an era of push notification technology, apps can automatically update content without being nudged by the user. It could easily retire, he says. Instead it appears to serve a psychological function: after all, slot machines would be far less addictive if gamblers didnt get to pull the lever themselves. Brichter prefers another comparison: that it is like the redundant close door button in some elevators with automatically closing doors. People just like to push it.

All of which has left Brichter, who has put his design work on the backburner while he focuses on building a house in New Jersey, questioning his legacy. Ive spent many hours and weeks and months and years thinking about whether anything Ive done has made a net positive impact on society or humanity at all, he says. He has blocked certain websites, turned off push notifications, restricted his use of the Telegram app to message only with his wife and two close friends, and tried to wean himself off Twitter. I still waste time on it, he confesses, just reading stupid news I already know about. He charges his phone in the kitchen, plugging it in at 7pm and not touching it until the next morning.

Smartphones are useful tools, he says. But theyre addictive. Pull-to-refresh is addictive. Twitter is addictive. These are not good things. When I was working on them, it was not something I was mature enough to think about. Im not saying Im mature now, but Im a little bit more mature, and I regret the downsides.

Not everyone in his field appears racked with guilt. The two inventors listed on Apples patent for managing notification connections and displaying icon badges are Justin Santamaria and Chris Marcellino. Both were in their early 20s when they were hired by Apple to work on the iPhone. As engineers, they worked on the behind-the-scenes plumbing for push-notification technology, introduced in 2009 to enable real-time alerts and updates to hundreds of thousands of third-party app developers. It was a revolutionary change, providing the infrastructure for so many experiences that now form a part of peoples daily lives, from ordering an Uber to making a Skype call to receiving breaking news updates.

Loren
Loren Brichter, who in 2009 designed the pull-to-refresh feature now used by many apps, on the site of the home hes building in New Jersey: Smartphones are useful tools, but theyre addictive I regret the downsides. Photograph: Tim Knox for the Guardian

But notification technology also enabled a hundred unsolicited interruptions into millions of lives, accelerating the arms race for peoples attention. Santamaria, 36, who now runs a startup after a stint as the head of mobile at Airbnb, says the technology he developed at Apple was not inherently good or bad. This is a larger discussion for society, he says. Is it OK to shut off my phone when I leave work? Is it OK if I dont get right back to you? Is it OK that Im not liking everything that goes through my Instagram screen?

His then colleague, Marcellino, agrees. Honestly, at no point was I sitting there thinking: lets hook people, he says. It was all about the positives: these apps connect people, they have all these uses ESPN telling you the game has ended, or WhatsApp giving you a message for free from your family member in Iran who doesnt have a message plan.

A few years ago Marcellino, 33, left the Bay Area, and is now in the final stages of retraining to be a neurosurgeon. He stresses he is no expert on addiction, but says he has picked up enough in his medical training to know that technologies can affect the same neurological pathways as gambling and drug use. These are the same circuits that make people seek out food, comfort, heat, sex, he says.

All of it, he says, is reward-based behaviour that activates the brains dopamine pathways. He sometimes finds himself clicking on the red icons beside his apps to make them go away, but is conflicted about the ethics of exploiting peoples psychological vulnerabilities. It is not inherently evil to bring people back to your product, he says. Its capitalism.

That, perhaps, is the problem. Roger McNamee, a venture capitalist who benefited from hugely profitable investments in Google and Facebook, has grown disenchanted with both companies, arguing that their early missions have been distorted by the fortunes they have been able to earn through advertising.

He identifies the advent of the smartphone as a turning point, raising the stakes in an arms race for peoples attention. Facebook and Google assert with merit that they are giving users what they want, McNamee says. The same can be said about tobacco companies and drug dealers.

That would be a remarkable assertion for any early investor in Silicon Valleys most profitable behemoths. But McNamee, 61, is more than an arms-length money man. Once an adviser to Mark Zuckerberg, 10 years ago McNamee introduced the Facebook CEO to his friend, Sheryl Sandberg, then a Google executive who had overseen the companys advertising efforts. Sandberg, of course, became chief operating officer at Facebook, transforming the social network into another advertising heavyweight.

McNamee chooses his words carefully. The people who run Facebook and Google are good people, whose well-intentioned strategies have led to horrific unintended consequences, he says. The problem is that there is nothing the companies can do to address the harm unless they abandon their current advertising models.

Googles
Googles headquarters in Silicon Valley. One venture capitalist believes that, despite an appetite for regulation, some tech companies may already be too big to control: The EU recently penalised Google $2.42bn for anti-monopoly violations, and Googles shareholders just shrugged. Photograph: Ramin Talaie for the Guardian

But how can Google and Facebook be forced to abandon the business models that have transformed them into two of the most profitable companies on the planet?

McNamee believes the companies he invested in should be subjected to greater regulation, including new anti-monopoly rules. In Washington, there is growing appetite, on both sides of the political divide, to rein in Silicon Valley. But McNamee worries the behemoths he helped build may already be too big to curtail. The EU recently penalised Google $2.42bn for anti-monopoly violations, and Googles shareholders just shrugged, he says.

Rosenstein, the Facebook like co-creator, believes there may be a case for state regulation of psychologically manipulative advertising, saying the moral impetus is comparable to taking action against fossil fuel or tobacco companies. If we only care about profit maximisation, he says, we will go rapidly into dystopia.

James Williams does not believe talk of dystopia is far-fetched. The ex-Google strategist who built the metrics system for the companys global search advertising business, he has had a front-row view of an industry he describes as the largest, most standardised and most centralised form of attentional control in human history.

Williams, 35, left Google last year, and is on the cusp of completing a PhD at Oxford University exploring the ethics of persuasive design. It is a journey that has led him to question whether democracy can survive the new technological age.

He says his epiphany came a few years ago, when he noticed he was surrounded by technology that was inhibiting him from concentrating on the things he wanted to focus on. It was that kind of individual, existential realisation: whats going on? he says. Isnt technology supposed to be doing the complete opposite of this?

That discomfort was compounded during a moment at work, when he glanced at one of Googles dashboards, a multicoloured display showing how much of peoples attention the company had commandeered for advertisers. I realised: this is literally a million people that weve sort of nudged or persuaded to do this thing that they werent going to otherwise do, he recalls.

He embarked on several years of independent research, much of it conducted while working part-time at Google. About 18 months in, he saw the Google memo circulated by Harris and the pair became allies, struggling to bring about change from within.

Williams and Harris left Google around the same time, and co-founded an advocacy group, Time Well Spent, that seeks to build public momentum for a change in the way big tech companies think about design. Williams finds it hard to comprehend why this issue is not on the front page of every newspaper every day.

Eighty-seven percent of people wake up and go to sleep with their smartphones, he says. The entire world now has a new prism through which to understand politics, and Williams worries the consequences are profound.

The same forces that led tech firms to hook users with design tricks, he says, also encourage those companies to depict the world in a way that makes for compulsive, irresistible viewing. The attention economy incentivises the design of technologies that grab our attention, he says. In so doing, it privileges our impulses over our intentions.

That means privileging what is sensational over what is nuanced, appealing to emotion, anger and outrage. The news media is increasingly working in service to tech companies, Williams adds, and must play by the rules of the attention economy to sensationalise, bait and entertain in order to survive.

Tech
Tech and the rise of Trump: as the internet designs itself around holding our attention, politics and the media has become increasingly sensational. Photograph: John Locher/AP

In the wake of Donald Trumps stunning electoral victory, many were quick to question the role of so-called fake news on Facebook, Russian-created Twitter bots or the data-centric targeting efforts that companies such as Cambridge Analytica used to sway voters. But Williams sees those factors as symptoms of a deeper problem.

It is not just shady or bad actors who were exploiting the internet to change public opinion. The attention economy itself is set up to promote a phenomenon like Trump, who is masterly at grabbing and retaining the attention of supporters and critics alike, often by exploiting or creating outrage.

Williams was making this case before the president was elected. In a blog published a month before the US election, Williams sounded the alarm bell on an issue he argued was a far more consequential question than whether Trump reached the White House. The reality TV stars campaign, he said, had heralded a watershed in which the new, digitally supercharged dynamics of the attention economy have finally crossed a threshold and become manifest in the political realm.

Williams saw a similar dynamic unfold months earlier, during the Brexit campaign, when the attention economy appeared to him biased in favour of the emotional, identity-based case for the UK leaving the European Union. He stresses these dynamics are by no means isolated to the political right: they also play a role, he believes, in the unexpected popularity of leftwing politicians such as Bernie Sanders and Jeremy Corbyn, and the frequent outbreaks of internet outrage over issues that ignite fury among progressives.

All of which, Williams says, is not only distorting the way we view politics but, over time, may be changing the way we think, making us less rational and more impulsive. Weve habituated ourselves into a perpetual cognitive style of outrage, by internalising the dynamics of the medium, he says.

It is against this political backdrop that Williams argues the fixation in recent years with the surveillance state fictionalised by George Orwell may have been misplaced. It was another English science fiction writer, Aldous Huxley, who provided the more prescient observation when he warned that Orwellian-style coercion was less of a threat to democracy than the more subtle power of psychological manipulation, and mans almost infinite appetite for distractions.

Since the US election, Williams has explored another dimension to todays brave new world. If the attention economy erodes our ability to remember, to reason, to make decisions for ourselves faculties that are essential to self-governance what hope is there for democracy itself?

The dynamics of the attention economy are structurally set up to undermine the human will, he says. If politics is an expression of our human will, on individual and collective levels, then the attention economy is directly undermining the assumptions that democracy rests on. If Apple, Facebook, Google, Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat are gradually chipping away at our ability to control our own minds, could there come a point, I ask, at which democracy no longer functions?

Will we be able to recognise it, if and when it happens? Williams replies. And if we cant, then how do we know it hasnt happened already?

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2017/oct/05/smartphone-addiction-silicon-valley-dystopia

Read More