The Slow Decay of the Internet: Unpacking Cory Doctorow's "Enshittification"

Remember that initial thrill when a new online platform just got it? Whether it was the sheer utility of early Google, the boundless social connection of Facebook, or the unparalleled convenience of Amazon, there was a golden age, wasn't there? We all experienced it. But if you’re anything like me, you’ve also felt that slow, creeping disappointment, that sense of things just… getting worse. Content becomes spammy, searches are cluttered, and what was once seamless now feels like a constant battle against algorithms and ads. This isn't just nostalgia talking; it's a phenomenon brilliantly — and rather bluntly — dubbed "enshittification" by the renowned author and activist Cory Doctorow.

Doctorow didn't pull any punches with the name, and frankly, it perfectly captures the messy reality. At its heart, enshittification describes the predictable decay of online platforms. It’s a natural, almost inevitable, lifecycle for those digital giants we've come to rely on, where they start by being great to users, then slowly pivot to exploit content creators, and ultimately, circle back to exploit the very users who made them successful in the first place. It’s a cynical yet painfully accurate blueprint for how many of our beloved digital spaces have turned, well, to absolute sh*t.

He breaks down this downward spiral into a clear, three-stage process, and once you see it, you can't unsee it. Imagine a platform's journey like this:

The first stage, Doctorow explains, is all about "luring users." Think of it as the honeymoon period. These platforms, often flush with venture capital, offer incredible value – sometimes even operating at a loss – to attract a massive user base. They provided genuinely useful services, an amazing user experience, and generous terms for content creators. They built something amazing, truly groundbreaking, something we all flocked to. This is where they establish the network effect, becoming indispensable. Early Facebook was a hub for connecting with friends, Google’s search results were pristine, and Amazon offered fantastic deals with unparalleled convenience. We loved them, unequivocally.

But here’s the rub. Once that user base is locked in, and the platform becomes a dominant force, the second stage kicks in: "exploiting content creators." Suddenly, those generous terms start to shrink. Algorithms change. Organic reach for artists, writers, small businesses, and even major media outlets diminishes drastically. If you want your content seen, you have to pay the platform – a hefty tax for the audience you helped build for them. Creators find themselves in a bind; their audience is on the platform, and moving elsewhere means starting from scratch. It’s a classic squeeze play, turning creators from partners into mere suppliers of free content, forced to pay for the privilege of reaching their own followers.

And then, inevitably, comes the third and final stage: "exploiting users." Once the creators have been squeezed dry, or have left in frustration, and the platform still needs to keep that profit margin growing for its shareholders, it turns its hungry gaze back to the users. This is where we see a dramatic drop in quality. More intrusive ads, worse search results packed with irrelevant or sponsored content, lower quality products promoted by algorithms, and generally a much poorer overall experience. The platform has become so entrenched in our daily lives that leaving feels like too much effort, or worse, impossible without losing crucial connections or access. We’re stuck, wading through the digital detritus, longing for the good old days.

This pattern isn't just theoretical; it’s playing out across the internet right before our eyes. Take Google Search, for instance. It used to be a beacon of relevant information. Now? Too often, the first page is dominated by ads, thinly veiled SEO spam, or content generated by AI, pushing genuine, authoritative sources further down. You end up having to append "reddit" or "site:nytimes.com" to your searches just to find something halfway decent. It’s frustrating, isn't it?

Or consider Facebook and its parent company, Meta. What started as a revolutionary way to connect with friends has morphed into an ad-saturated, algorithmically manipulated wasteland where genuine human connection often takes a backseat to sponsored posts and rage-bait. And for content creators, getting eyes on their posts without paying Meta has become a pipe dream.

Even Amazon, once the king of online retail, now presents a maze of questionable product reviews, identical-looking items from dubious sellers, and search results that often prioritize sponsored listings over the best quality or value. The convenience is still there, yes, but the trust and clarity have undeniably eroded.

Even newer platforms, like TikTok, are showing early signs of this cycle. While still wildly popular, discussions are already emerging about increased monetization, algorithm changes affecting creator reach, and a push for users to consume more sponsored content. It seems no platform, however innovative, is immune to the pressures that drive this enshittification.

Ultimately, Doctorow's grim prognosis highlights a fundamental flaw in the current model of platform capitalism. The relentless pursuit of growth and profit maximization, especially once a company goes public and faces shareholder demands, inevitably leads to this extraction of value from every corner – users, creators, and even the platform's own initial promise. It’s a stark thought, suggesting that without fundamental changes in how these digital behemoths operate, or how they are regulated, our online experience is destined for a continued descent into mediocrity. Perhaps understanding this process is the first step towards demanding – and building – something better.