Personal data metaphors and imagery

I am currently completing my new book, with the working title of Data Selves, to be published by Polity. Here is an excerpt from a chapter that looks at personal data materialisations.

We have to work hard to find figures of speech and ways of thinking to encapsulate the ontology of digital data. The concept of digital data, a first glance, appears to describe a wholly immaterial phenomenon that does not engage the senses: there seems to be nothing to look at, touch, hear, smell or taste. The metaphors and other figures of language employed to describe digital data are attempts to conceptualise and make sense of these novel forms of information and their ontologies. Even as digital technologies continue to generate and process detailed information about people’s bodies, social relationships, emotions, practices and preferences, prevailing discourses on these data tend to de-personalise and de-humanise them. The use of the term ‘data’ to describe these details signals a way of viewing and treating them, presenting these aspects as raw materials, ripe for processing and exploitation to make them give up their meaning (Räsänen and Nyce 2013; Gitelman and Jackson 2013). Once they have become defined and labelled as ‘data’, these details about people’s lives tend to be imagined as impersonal, scientific and neutral. They have been extracted from their embodied, sensory and affective contexts, rendered into digitised formats and viewed as material for research, management or commercial purposes.

The term ‘data’ is closely associated with ‘information’. Information as a term is subject to a wide range of (often debated) definitions in the academic literature. It usually involves the assumption that there are structures, correlations and patterns involved in the organisation and communication of meaning. Information tends to be imbued with the pragmatic meanings of rational thought-processes and material that can contribute to acquiring and using knowledge. It has use and value based on these attributes (Buckland 1991). Digital data, as forms of information that have been collected and processed using digital technologies, are often portrayed as more accurate and insightful than many other information sources (Lupton 2015; Kitchin 2014). Many references to big data represent it as anonymised massive collections of details that are valuable commodities, open to profitable exploitation. The World Economic Forum’s report (2011) describing big data as ‘the new oil’, ‘a valuable resource of the 21st century’ and a ‘new asset class’ is an influential example of this metaphor.

Metaphors of fluidities also tend to be employed when describing digital data. Digital data are popularly imagined to stream, flow and circulate in the ephemeral digital data economy, emitting imperceptibly from digital devices, flying through the air to lodge in and move between computing clouds as if comprised of vaporised water. Many metaphors of digital data use words and phrases that denote overwhelming power and mobilities, again often referring to large bodies of uncontrollable water; the data ‘deluge’, ‘flood’, ‘ocean’ and even ‘tsunami’ that constantly appear in popular accounts of big data in particular. These figures of speech are used to denote feelings of being overwhelmed by large, powerful masses of data (‘big data’) that appear to be difficult to control or make sense of in their volume. Still other metaphors represent data as ‘exhaust’, ‘trails’ or ‘breadcrumbs’, denoting the by-products of other interactions on digital networks. These metaphors suggest a tangible, perceivable form of digital data, albeit tiny, that require effort to discern and give up their value (Lupton 2015).

The terms ‘clean’ and ‘dirty’ have long been used in descriptions of data, however these data are generated. These terms refer to the degree to which the data can be used for analysis: clean data are ready for use, dirty data sets require further processing because they are incomplete, outdated, incorrect or obsolete. Portrayals of the affordances of digital data on the body/self, in their emphasis on objectivity and neutrality – or what might be described as their ‘cleanliness’ – denote a view of information about oneself that privileges such ‘clean’ data over what might be contrasted as the ‘dirty’ data that the body produces from sensual experience. Human cognition, memory, perception and sensation are ‘weak’ because they are ‘unscientific’. They are borne of fallible fleshly embodiment rather than the neutral, objective data that are generated by computer software and hardware.

Data have also been referred to as ‘raw’, suggesting that they are materials that are untouched by culture. It is assumed that by working on ‘raw’ data, data scientists transform these materials into useable commodities. Part of this transformation may involve ‘cleaning’ ‘dirty data’. Boellstofff (2013) uses the term ‘rotted data’ to describe the ways in which the materiality of data can degrade (for example, damaged hard drives that store data), but also how data can be transformed in unplanned or accidental ways that do not follow algorithmic prescriptions. Here again, these metaphors of ‘raw’, ‘cooked’ and ‘rotted’ draw attention the materiality of data and the processing, deterioration and recuperation that are part of human-data assemblages.

In her essay on digital data, Melissa Gregg (2015) employs a number of other metaphors that she devised to encapsulate the meanings of data. Data ‘agents’ suggests the capacities of data to work with algorithms to generate connections: matches, suggestions and relationships between social phenomena that otherwise would not be created. Gregg gives the examples of recommendation sites and online dating services, which connect strangers and their experiences with each other in ways that were previously unimaginable. She goes on to suggest that ‘In these instances, data acts [sic] rather more like our appendage, our publicist, even our shadow’ (Gregg 2015). Gregg also employs the metaphor of data ‘sweat’ (another liquid metaphor) in the attempt to emphasise the embodied nature of data, emerging or leaking from within the body to the outside in an uncontrolled manner to convey information about that body, including how hard it is working or how productive it is. Data ‘sweat’, therefore, can be viewed as a materialisation of labour. She then suggests the concept of data ‘trash’ (similar to the ‘exhaust’ metaphor mentioned above). Data ‘trash’ is data that is in some way useless or potentially polluting or hazardous: Gregg links this metaphor with the environmental effects generated by creating, storing and processing data in data centres. Both the metaphors of data ‘sweat’ and ‘trash’ suggest the materiality of digitised information as well as its ambivalent and dynamic status as it moves between ascriptions of high value and useless or even disgusting by-product.

An analysis of images used to represent big data in online editions of The New York Times and The Washington Post (Pentzold et al. 2018) found that they tended to fall into several categories in the attempt to visually represent big data: using large-scale numbers, interpretive abstract renditions, showing numbers or graphs on smartphone or computer screens, images of data warehouses and devices that generate data, robots, datafied individuals and meteorological imagery such as clouds. A dominant visual image involved photographic images of people working in the big data industry, such as data scientists, ‘nerds’ and ‘geeks’ (overwhelmingly male) and logos of internet companies. These images served as visual surrogates to represent the immateriality of big data. The researchers compared these images with those found on a general Google image search for ‘big data’ and also on Wikipedia and the image platforms Fotolia, Flickr and Pinterest. They noted that the images they found on these platforms were very homogeneous, featuring the colour blue, the words ‘big data’ written large, binary numbers, network structures and surveillant human eyes. These kinds of descriptions suggest that big datasets (including those drawn from people’s lives and experiences) are natural resources that are unproblematically open to exploration, mining and processing for profit. The personal details about people contained within these massive datasets are reimagined as commodities or research material. It is telling that the human elements of these images largely include men working in data analytics rather than the range of people who generate data or who may make use of their own data as part of their everyday lives.

In these types of portrayals, the status of personal data as human, or at least partly human entities is submerged in the excitement about how best to exploit these details as material commodities. Their liveliness is represented in ways that suggest their economic potential as nonhuman organic materials (streams, flows, oil, clouds, breadcrumbs). Yet conversely, another dominant discourse about personal data, which is particularly promulgated by the data profiling industry and civil society privacy advocates, is that these details are all-too-human or even excessively human: intensely intimate and revealing of people’s uniquely human characteristics. Proponents of the ‘Internet of Me’ make claims such as:

Now imagine tech working in your body at the biological level. Your body could express itself on its own, without you having to be in charge, to deliver more happiness, better health, whatever you truly need and want.

These sociotechnical imaginaries position devices and data as working together with human bodies in ways that devolve agency to the device. ‘You’ no longer have to be ‘in charge’ – instead, the device takes over. Other imaginaries around the Internet of Me configure the idea of personal cloud computing, in which all people’s personal data go to a centralised cloud computing repository where they will be able to access all their data.

When I performed my own Google image search using the term ‘personal data’, the images that were returned by the search again featured the colour blue, male figures and binary numbers. Notably, several images showed a pen and a paper form with the words ‘personal information’ at the top, perhaps as an attempt to respond to the immateriality of digitised information by rendering it in analogue forms with which many people would be familiar. Images using locks and keys as metaphors were also dominant, suggesting the value of personal data but also how closed they are to people who may want to make use of them. When I used the search term ‘personal data privacy’, new images were introduced in addition to those appearing under ‘personal data’. These included images of spy-like or Big Brother surveillance figures and also images showing human hands protectively attempting to cover computer keyboards or screens, as if to elude the gaze of these spying figures as people used their devices.

One online article on the Internet of Me features an image in which a human body is comprised of many different social media and other internet platform icons as well as coloured dots representing other data sources. Instead of an assemblage of flesh-bone-blood, the body is completely datafied and networked. The interesting thing is that this body is represented as an autonomous agent. The networks that generate data and keep the body vibrant and functioning are internal, not externalised to networks outside this socially alienated body. Data flows are contained within elements of the body rather than leaking outside it to other bodies. This suggests an imaginary in which the Internet of Me is neatly contained within the envelope of the body/self and thus able to control ingress and egress. This is an orderly closed system, one that confounds both utopian and dystopian imaginaries concerning the possibilities and risks of one’s body/self being sited as just one node in vast and complex networked digital system.

In contrast, a series of 2018 British advertisements for the BBH London & Experian data analytics company used the ‘data self’ concept in an attempt to humanise data profiling and emphasise the similarities of these profiles to the people from whom they are generated. Six versions of this ad featured photographs of comedian Marcus Brigstoke and his ‘data self’, a person who looked exactly like him. As one of the ads, headlined ‘Meet your Data Self’ claimed: ‘Your Data Self is the version of you that companies see when you apply for things like credit cards, loans and mortgages. You two should get acquainted’. One of the ads, headlined, ‘What shape is your Data Self in?’, showed the comedian looking at his doppelganger lifting a heavy barbell. The copy read ‘If your Data Self looks good to lenders, you’re more likely to be approved for credit. That’s a weight off. Get to know your Data Self at Experian.com.uk.’ Another ad asked ‘Is your Data Self making the right impression?’, depicting the comedian, dressed in casual clothes, shaking hands with his more formally dressed (in suit and tie) data self.  Notably, this person and his ‘data self’ was a white, youngish man, excluding representatives from other social groups.

The ontological status of personal data, therefore, constantly shifts in popular representations between human and nonhuman, valuable commodity and waste matter, nature and culture, productive and dangerous. In both modes of representation, the vibrancies of digital data – their ceaseless production, movements, leakages – are considered to be both exciting and full of potential but also as dangerous and risky. Personal data assemblages are difficult to control or exploit by virtue of their liveliness.

References

Boellstorff, T. (2013). Making big data, in theory. First Monday, 18(10).

Buckland, M. K. (1991). Information as thing. Journal of the American Society for Information Science, 42(5), 351.

Gitelman, L., & Jackson, V. (2013). Introduction. In L. Gitelman (Ed.), Raw Data is an Oxymoron (pp. 1-14). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Gregg, M. (2015). The gift that is not given. In T. Boellstorff, & B. Maurer (Eds.), Data, Now Bigger and Better! (pp. 47-66). Chicago: Prickly Paradigm.

Kitchin, R. (2014). The Data Revolution: Big Data, Open Data, Data Infrastructures and Their Consequences. London: Sage.

Lupton, D. (2015). Digital Sociology. London: Routledge.

Pentzold, C., Brantner, C., & Fölsche, L. (2018). Imagining big data: Illustrations of “big data” in US news articles, 2010–2016. New Media & Society, online first.

Räsänen, M., & Nyce, J. M. (2013). The raw is cooked: data in intelligence practice. Science, Technology & Human Values, 38(5), 655-677.

World Economic Forum (2011). Personal Data: The Emergence of a New Asset Class. World Economic Forum.

 

What do Australian women think of My Health Record?

The Australian government has met with difficulties in persuading Australians to register with its national electronic health record system, My Health Record. Just one in five Australians have a My Health Record. I have just submitted an article for peer review that reports on the findings from the Australian Women and Digital Health Project in which the participants talked about their attitudes to and experiences with My Health Record in interviews and focus groups. As the Australian Digital Health Agency moves towards an opt-out process to register as many Australians as possible, the findings from this study offer important insights into what Australian women think of My Health Record.

The full preprint version of the article can be accessed here: Article – My Health Record preprint.

Here are the major findings:

  • Despite their generally highly engaged use of online health and medical sources, awareness and use of My Health Record was quite low among the participants. When asked if they had signed up to My Health Record, only a third (24 out of the 66 participants) answered that they definitely had enrolled themselves. Nine women said they weren’t sure or couldn’t remember if they had registered, while the remaining 33 women responded either that they had not heard of My Health Record or they had decided not to sign up.
  • The women who had registered for My Health Record said that they had done so because of the benefits they could see of being able to have a digital health record that could be shared across providers. None of the women who had registered for My Health Record made any reference to the opportunity to be able to view their health records themselves or add to them. As this suggests, there was little awareness among the participants that My Health Record had been initially designed as a patient engagement tool as well as a platform for storing their medical information and sharing it with their healthcare professionals.
  • Technical difficulties were major barriers to enrolling and using the system successfully. The problem was not just My Health Record itself, but the MyGov platform on which it was hosted. Several women made reference to other services on MyGov being difficult to access and use.
  • No participants had yet found any benefit or use for My Health Record. It was viewed more as a repository for the use of healthcare professionals than for women’s own active use as contributors and users of their data.
  • Several participants said that they regularly had to remind their doctors that they had a My Health Record, only to find that the doctors were not using the system or uploading information, and even discouraging patients from using it.
  • Recent publicity in relation to the Australian government’s misuse or lack of protection of citizens’ personal data have led to the participants demonstrating low levels of faith in the government’s capability to adequately manage My Health Record. Many participants also referred to their distrust in the Australian government to protect their medical information adequately. Government agencies were represented as incompetent rather than malicious, lacking the knowledge and skills to establish and maintain a national EHR system that was secure and effective enough to give them enough confidence or motivation to register and use it.
  • In summary, these findings suggest that the Australian government needs to provide adequate and appropriate information to the Australian public about My Health Record, and particularly the opt-out process and negotiating consent to data sharing. It so doing, it will have to address wider problems of the Australian public’s lack of trust in the ways in which government agencies collect, share, protect or exploit their personal data.

 

 

Using feminist materialism to analyse app use

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I’ve been working with feminist materialism theories to understand how people take up and engage with digital media such as apps, social media and wearable devices. I’ve just had an article published, drawing from the Australian Women and Digital Health Project, which draws on a feminist materialism approach to present six vignettes from participants about their use and non-use of food tracking apps.

Here’s the abstract – the entire article is available open access here.

Food-tracking apps constitute a major category of the thousands of food-related apps now available. They are promoted as helping users monitor and measure their food consumption to improve their health or to lose weight. In this article, I present six vignettes drawn from interviews with Australian women about their use and non-use of food-tracking apps. The vignettes provide detailed insights into the experiences of these women and their broader sociocultural and biographical contexts. The analysis is based on feminist materialism theoretical perspectives, seeking to identify the relational connections, affective forces, and agential capacities generated in and through the human-app assemblage. The vignettes reveal that affective forces related to the desire to control and manage the body and conform to norms and ideals about good health and body weight inspire people to try food-tracking apps. However, the agential capacities promised by app developers may not be generated even when people have committed hope and effort in using the app. Frustration, disappointment, the fear of becoming too controlled, and annoyance or guilt evoked by the demands of the app can be barriers to continued and successful use. Sociocultural and biographical contexts and relational connections are also central to the capacities of human-app assemblages. Women’s ambivalences about using apps as part of efforts to control their body weight are sited within their struggles to conform to accepted ideals of physical appearance but also their awareness that these struggles may be too limiting of their agency. This analysis, therefore, draws attention to what a body can and cannot do as it comes together with food tracking apps.

Some findings from my research on Australians’ use of digital health and self-tracking technologies

Today I am giving a keynote presentation at the Australian Telehealth Conference 2018 in Sydney. I am talking about the findings of four empirical projects I have conducted over the past three years on Australians’ use of digital health and self-tracking technologies.

Here are some of the key findings I will be discussing.

Women’s Use of Apps and Other Digital Media for Pregnancy and Parenting Project

This project involved two parts: an online survey completed by 410 women around Australia and a focus group study involving women living in Sydney. All participants were either pregnant or had at least one child aged 3 years or under at the time of the research.

The participants were keen users of Google Search, constantly using it to find information. They also often used pregnancy apps (three-quarters of the survey participants) and parenting apps (half of the survey participants). Facebook was popular as well, especially for establishing local mothers’ groups that included opportunities to meet face-to-face and share local knowledge. The participants valued websites and online discussion forums as ways of seeking and providing support 24/7. They sought information, reassurance and social connections through these digital media. For many women, digital media were life-lines at times when they were struggling with loneliness, anxiety and the significant demands of caring for babies and young children.

Publications from this project can be found here, here and here.

Self-tracking Cyclists Project

This project involved female and male commuting cyclists in Canberra and Melbourne who regularly used digital technologies (bike computers, apps, wearable devices, cycling platforms) to track their rides. We used GoPro cameras worn on the cyclists’ helmets to videotape one of their cycling commutes, and interviewed the participants while watching the video together. We were interested in how they incorporated the use of digital self-tracking into their everyday routines, and how they engaged with the data generated by these practices.

We found that most of the cyclists enjoyed tracking their rides to monitor their fitness or speeds, to compete against other cyclists or to document their personal bests on platforms like Strava. Some responded to their data in real-time as they cycled, particularly if they used a bike computer they could easily consult while in motion. These people found self-tracking to be motivating, giving them confidence and feelings of accomplishment when they could see that their speed or fitness were improving.

Publications from this project can be found  here, here, here and here.

Australian Self-Trackers Project

This project involved semi-structured telephone interviews with women and men across Australia who identified as a ‘self-tracker’ for any reason, using any kind of method, digital or non-digital.

The findings from this project demonstrated that while digital self-tracking technologies were popular, especially computer spreadsheets and apps, many people were using the time-honoured paper-and-pen form of recording their information, or even just committing details to memory. It was common for people to use a combination of these methods to track a range of indicators. The most popular aspects they were tracking were food/nutrition, physical fitness or activity levels and body weight, but tracking finances, blood pressure, sleep, work productivity, social relationships, medication, home energy use, chronic health conditions, moods and alcohol were also common. Unlike the self-tracking cyclists, few of these participants were interested in sharing their data with others, and few were motivated by competitive challenges. They saw self-tracking as a largely private endeavour, undertaken to  collect information as a way of ‘being responsible’ and exerting control over their health and lives.

The production of publications from this project is still in progress. One book chapter has been generated from it thus far and can be found here.

Australian Women and Digital Health Project

This project involved a combination of focus groups, face-to-face semi-structured interviews and telephone interviews with Australian women across a range of age-groups. They were asked to talk about which kinds of digital health technologies they used and which they found most valuable and useful.

Here again, the importance of Google Search as a tool to find health information was to the fore. Almost every participant said that they regularly googled to search for information.  They also used websites regularly for health information, often directed to them by searching online. In-person interactions with doctors or other healthcare professionals as well as family and friends were still important sources of health information, but the opportunity to go online at any time was highly valued by these participants. Many searched for health information on behalf of their family members (partners, children – even adult children – or elderly parents) as part of their familial caring roles. Traditional media (books, television, radio) were hardly mentioned at all as a source of health information, although pamphlets were still consulted quite often when women were waiting to see the doctor. These women valued the access they had online to international sources of information, but still placed a lot of importance on being able to find Australian-based information and information that was specific to their local area. It was notable that none of these women used a fitness platform like Strava, although calorie-counting apps and Fitbits were quite popular.

Analysis from this project is in progress.

Findings from across the projects

  • Websites and search engines (particularly Google Search) remain very important and highly-used sources of online health information.
  • The broader ecosystem of technologies, including non-digital as well as digital, needs to be acknowledged.
  • People are still not generally interested or concerned about who can access their personal health data generated from their online interactions or app use.
  • When participants were asked what their ideal digital health or self-tracking technology would be, the most common responses were for tools that could be readily customised and personalised, or which could bring a lot of information or functions together in the one place. This could be an app or a website/platform.
  • Factors such as people’s age, gender, caring responsibilities, working conditions, state of health, whether they are living with a disability, demands on their time and relationships and interactions with other people (both in person and online) are important contributors to their lived experiences of digital health and self-tracking technologies.
  • The biographical features of people’s lives also emerged as central: such turning points as hitting a landmark birthday, the birth of children, or developing a chronic illness were key factors in people making changes in their lives related to their use of digital media and devices for health.

Talks in Europe, November 2017

I am visiting Europe to give several talks in early November. Details are as follows:

Wednesday 1 November: Keynote presentation at the ‘Emotion and Affect in Dataified Worlds’ workshop, Helsinki, Finland.

Friday 3 November: Opening presentation with our Wellcome Trust grant research team at the ‘Researching Young People and Digital Health Technologies’ symposium we have organised, Manchester, UK (details here).

Monday 6 November:  Invited public lecture at the ‘Digital Health’ workshop, Malmo, Sweden.

Tuesday 7 November: Invited presentation at the ‘Challenges of Digital Health’ workshop, Orebro, Sweden.

Friday 10 November: Keynote at the ‘Monitoring the Self: Negotiating Technologies of Health, Identity and Governance’ conference, Helsinki, Finland (details here).

The senses and digital health

I have edited a special issue for the journal Digital Health on the theme of ‘The senses and digital health: sociocultural perspectives’.  Part of the editorial I have just finished for the special issue is excerpted below. The whole preprint of my editorial is here: Preprint of editorial for special issue on senses and digital health

(Edited to note that this editorial has now been published in the journal, and is available open access here.)

A few days before I began writing this editorial, I ran a discussion group with some people who were attending an outpatient cardiovascular rehabilitation program at a hospital in my home city, Canberra. The purpose of the discussion was to discover what sources of information and support people who had recently received hospital treatment for a serious heart condition were using and found valuable. As one of my major areas of research is the social and cultural dimensions of digital health (see, for example, my book Digital Health), I was particularly interested in the digital media and devices they may be using.

I began with general questions about what sources of information the participants had found useful in learning about their heart condition and rehabilitation following their diagnosis and surgery at this hospital. The group members told me that the hospital cardiac rehabilitation sessions were very important to them, not only as a way to learn about recovery and preventive actions they could take to improve their coronary health, but also as an opportunity to interact with other people who had gone through similar experiences. They explained that, together with the sessions they attended as part of this program, the print material (pamphlets and a book) about cardiac rehabilitation that had been given to them by the hospital had been the major contributors to learning about their disease and recovery. They commented that they had been able to discuss aspects of these materials during face-to-face encounters with healthcare staff if they needed to ask questions or receive clarification on any of the information within. Some people had also attended pre-admission group information sessions after their cardiac condition had been diagnosed, which their partner was also encouraged to attend. Others had had no opportunity for this kind of preparation, as they had experienced a sudden heart attack and found themselves in the emergency department receiving medical attention with little warning.

A dominant theme that emerged from the participants’ accounts was their desire to share insights from their experiences about the mysterious and unexpected nature of heart disease or heart failure. Several participants recounted their stories of how they had been diagnosed with heart disease or suffered a heart attack without realising that there was any problem with their hearts. For these people, the best way to share the insights they had gained from their own experiences was to tell their friends and family about it, as a form of warning. For some, friends or family members who had already experienced a heart condition were a source of information. They had listened to these other people recount their experiences and learnt about the symptoms and treatment.

When I moved onto the topic of digital technologies, it was clear that these were not important to most people in this rehabilitation program. Only about half of them even owned a smartphone. Several people said that they used at-home blood pressure and pulse rate monitoring devices as a way of tracking their heart health. They had purchased these from pharmacies, on their own initiative, rather than being encouraged to do so by their doctors. They printed out the data from a spreadsheet they maintained, or recorded their details with pen-and-paper, and showed this information to their doctors on follow-up appointments.

None of the participants used a digital device like a smartphone app or wearable device for monitoring their blood pressure. A small number did use these devices for tracking other body metrics, such physical activity levels. They were all in the younger age group (aged below 60). In terms of online sources of information, very few of the group had searched prior to their diagnosis for information related to any symptoms they may have experienced. About a third of the participants did go online after their diagnosis or surgery to seek information. However, none of the participants had ever used a patient support online forum or social media community for their health condition. When asked what they will do once they have finished the six weeks of the cardiac rehabilitation program, some mentioned that they would join one of their local gyms to continue their exercise routines. None was interested in joining an online patient support group at that point.

Reflecting on this focus group discussion as I write this editorial has highlighted some of the key issues I envisaged the issue as exploring. While my initial focus was digital health, these responses proved enlightening to me in their very de-emphasis and backgrounding of the digital. They provide a compelling counter to the techno-utopian visions that are often put forward by advocates of digital health technologies and the ideal of the ’digitally engaged patient’ that has become so dominant in the technological, medical and public health literature.

Profound affective and sensory aspects of living as a cardiac disease survivor were expressed in the participants’ accounts. For them, a key issue in how information about cardiovascular disease is communicated and shared was finding some way to let others know about the diverse symptoms that are not always recognised as signalling a heart problem. They reflected that they themselves in many cases hadn’t recognised the symptoms when they were living through the experience. The discussion group provided a forum for people to tell stories of hidden illness striking suddenly and catastrophically. They emphasised the uncertainty of not knowing what the physical sensations they were experiencing were, and whether they should be concerned and seek immediate medical attention.

Listening to their heart disease stories, and reading over them later as transcripts, I was reminded of Arthur Frank’s influential book The Wounded Storyteller, in which he discusses how people’s illness and physical suffering are expressed as narratives. Frank describes the wounded storyteller as ‘anyone who has suffered and lived to tell the tale … a guide and companion, a truth teller and trickster. She or he is a fragile human body and a witness to what endures’.

In the face of this uncertainty and experiencing life-threatening illness, major surgery, and then long recovery, the medical care and continuing support provided to the patients were vital to their sense of security and confidence in the integrity of their bodies. The participants’ positive feelings towards the rehabilitation program and what it offered them were obvious in their accounts. While the space and people were unfamiliar to me, I could perceive that the group members felt at ease coming to this space to which they were now habituated through their twice-weekly visits, and with staff who knew them and spoke to them kindly, and the other cardiac disease survivors in the group they had come to know. Compared with the strength of feeling about the face-to-face encounters they had in this program, the support and information offered by digital technologies were very much in the background. They were simply not important in these people’s everyday experiences of recovering from and managing their cardiac conditions.

These people’s experiences as they recounted them with filled with sensation and affect: the intense and sudden pain they experienced when having a heart attack, the surprise they felt at being diagnosed with a heart condition, the relief of having survived a serious medical problem and, in many cases, major surgery, and the comfort and reassurance of being supported during their rehabilitation by hospital staff and other group members. These were people whose everyday routines and assumptions about their bodies had been thrown into disarray. They wanted to be able to convey these sensory and affective experiences to me, and to others to warn them and instruct them on how to interpret their bodily signs and symptoms.

For this group, comprised of people who in many cases were not highly digitally literate or regular users of digital devices, digital technologies were on the margins of their care and support, or simply non-existent in their lifeworlds. It was the health professionals at the hospital, the other group members, the space provided for them to which they had become accustomed, and the print material given to them at the hospital that were the important and trusted elements in lifeworlds which they were moving and recovering their bodily integrity and confidence. The findings from the discussion group raise further questions about what further support should be offered to people once the six weeks of the rehabilitation program are over, and whether this should be mediated via digital technologies or provided in other ways.

New edited book now out – The Digital Academic

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A book I co-edited with Inger Mewburn and Pat Thomson has now been published with Routledge, entitled The Digital Academic: Critical Perspectives on Digital Technologies in Higher Education. Here’s the link to the book on Amazon. We have wonderful contributions from researchers in Australia, the UK, Hong Kong, the USA and Canada.

This is the list of contents:

  1. The Digital Academic: Identities, Contexts and Politics: Deborah Lupton, Inger Mewburn and Pat Thomson
  2. Towards an Academic Self? Blogging During the Doctorate: Inger Mewburn and Pat Thomson
  3. Going from PhD to Platform: Charlotte Frost
  4. Academic Persona: The Construction of Online Reputation in the Modern Academy: David Marshall, Kim Barbour and Christopher Moore
  5. Academic Twitter and Academic Capital: Collapsing Orality and Literacy in Scholarly Publics: Bonnie Stewart
  6. Intersections Online: Academics Who Tweet: Narelle Lemon and Megan McPherson
  7. Sustaining Asian Australian Scholarly Activism Online: Tseen Khoo
  8. Digital Backgrounds, Active Foregrounds: Student and Teacher Experiences with ‘Flipping the Classroom’: Martin Forsey and Sara Page
  9. A Labour of Love: A Critical Examination of the ‘Labour Icebergs’ of Massive Open Online Courses: Katharina Freund, Stephanie Kizimchuk, Jonathon Zapasnik, Katherine Esteves, Inger Mewburn
  10. Digital Methods and Data Labs: The Redistribution of Educational Research to Education Data Science: Ben Williamson
  11. Interview – Sara Goldrick-Rab with Inger Mewburn
  12. Interview – Jessie Daniels with Inger Mewburn

 

The food of the future? 3D printed food in the online news media

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3D printed confectionary

I have just had a journal article accepted for publication in Futures. The author’s accepted version can be found here, open access: ARTICLE – Download to Delicious postprint. (Edited to note that the journal’s version is here but behind a paywall).

In the article, I analyse the ways in which 3D food printing has been represented in online news articles and industry blogs. I identified five major promissory themes, portraying 3D printed food technologies as: futuristic; creative; healthy; efficient; and sustainable.

These themes contributed to sociotechnical imaginaries that drew on a number of contemporary preoccupations related to food cultures: novelty, entertainment and leisure pursuits; convenience and time-saving; effective production and distribution; health and nutritional aspects; and environmental impacts and global food security.

I found that the widespread adoption of the term ‘3D printing’ to describe the digital additive manufacturing process serves to position this technology as a familiar domestic device, albeit one not usually employed to generate edible products. Digital printers, while they are common as devices in the workplace and home office for printing words on paper, are not generally associated with the production of edible materials or the location of the haute cuisine restaurant or home kitchen. As food processing machines, they currently largely inhabit the status of the futuristic machine of science fiction or fantasy (as in the ‘Star Trek’ food replicator shown below).

food-replicator

A tension was evident across news reporting between attempts to emphasise the futuristic and novel affordances of 3D food printing and those that sought to render them familiar and therefore more acceptable to potential consumers. Related to this tension was the contrasting of the banal and the mundane with the sci-fi possibilities of food printing in the news reports. Some reported applications of 3D printing portrayed these technologies as little more than handy new kitchen gadgets, gimmicky machines for manipulating and presenting foodstuffs, or a more appealing way of processing and presenting everyday nutritious or easy-to-eat foods. Other reports took a far more speculative and futuristic approach in attempting to positively portray the possibilities and promises of food printing.

For the most part, scientific innovation was portrayed as a positive force in news reports of 3D food printing. The unconventional association in the news articles of digital printing technologies with such endeavours as gourmet and home cooking and efforts towards improving human health, world hunger and environmental sustainability only served to support its possibilities. The vast majority of online news reports represented food printing as ameliorative, progressive, entertaining and creative: a fine example of the marvels of modern science and digital technological developments with both entertainment and more serious purposes. Narratives on printed food drew on the conventions of science fiction and futuristic discourses to emphasise the novelty, scientific nature and potential of the technology.

The views of current or potential consumers concerning what they thought of printed food received little voice in the news media. As most of the technologies described in the news reports were not yet in use, few images portrayed people actually eating printed food products. Yet there was extensive discussion of consumers as potential beneficiaries of these technologies across the five promissory themes. 3D printed food was portrayed as offering home cooks convenience, saving them time and providing them with the opportunity to make and serve more nutritious food. People in special circumstances such as astronauts, refugees, those in emergency situations and air travellers, as well as those with chewing and swallowing difficulties, were also singled out as potential beneficiaries. Consumers who enjoyed new foods and styles of eating were another group targeted in news stories.

My publications in 2016

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Books

Lupton, D. (2016) The Quantified Self: A Sociology of Self-Tracking. Cambridge: Polity Press.

Edited special issues

Digitised health, medicine and risk’, Health, Risk & Society (volume 17, issue 7-8), 2016 (my editorial for this issue is available here).

Book chapters

Lupton, D. (2016) Digitized health promotion: risk and personal responsibility for health in the Web 2.0 era. In Davis, J. and Gonzalez, A. M. (eds), To Fix or To Heal: Patient Care, Public Health, and the Limits of Biomedicine. New York: New York University Press, pp. 152—76. (A preprint version is available here.)

Lupton, D. (2016) Digital risk society. In Zinn, J., Burgess, A. and Alemanno, A. (eds), The Routledge Handbook of Risk Studies. London: Routledge, pp. 301—9. (A preprint version is available here.)

Lupton, D. (2016) You are your data: self-tracking practices and concepts of data. In Selke, Stefan (ed.), Lifelogging: Digital Self-Tracking: Between Disruptive Technology and Cultural Change. Zurich: Springer, pp. 61—79. (A preprint version is available here.)

Lupton, D. (2016) Digital health technologies and digital data: new ways of monitoring, measuring and commodifying human bodies. In Olleros, F. X. and Zhegu, M. (eds), Research Handbook of Digital Transformations. New York: Edward Elgar, pp. 84—102. (A preprint version is available here.)

Lupton, D. (2016) Personal data practices in the age of lively data. In Daniels, J., Gregory, K. and McMillan Cottom, T. (eds), Digital Sociologies. London: Policy Press, 335—350. (A preprint version is available here.)

Lupton, D. (2016) ‘Mastering your fertility’: the digitised reproductive citizen. In McCosker, A., Vivienne, S. and Johns, A. (eds), Negotiating Digital Citizenship: Control, Contest and Culture. London: Rowman and Littlefield, pp. 81—93. (A preprint version is available here.)

Journal articles

Thomas, G.M. and Lupton, D. (2016) Threats and thrills: pregnancy apps, risk and consumption. Health, Risk & Society, 17(7-8), 495—509.

Lupton, D. (2016) Digital companion species and eating data: implications for theorising digital data-human assemblages. Big Data & Society, 3(1), online, available at http://bds.sagepub.com/content/3/1/2053951715619947

Lupton, D. (2016) Towards critical health studies: reflections on two decades of research in Health and the way forward. Health, 20(1), 49—61.

Michael, M. and Lupton, D. (2016) Toward a manifesto for ‘a public understanding of big data’. Public Understanding of Science, 25(1), 104—116.

Lupton, D. (2016) The diverse domains of quantified selves: self-tracking modes and dataveillance. Economy & Society, 45(1), 101—122.

Lupton, D. (2016) The use and value of digital media information for pregnancy and early motherhood: a focus group study. BMC Pregnancy and Childbirth, 16(171), online, available at http://bmcpregnancychildbirth.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s12884-016-0971-

Lupton, D., Pedersen, S. and Thomas, G.M. (2016) Parenting and digital media: from the early web to contemporary digital society. Sociology Compass, 10(8), 730—743.

Lupton, D. and Pedersen, S. (2016) An Australian survey of women’s use of pregnancy and parenting apps. Women and Birth, 29, 368—375.

Sumartojo, S., Pink, S., Lupton, D. and Heyes Labond, C. (2016) The affective intensities of datafied space. Emotion, Space and Society, 21, 33—40.

Pedersen, S. and Lupton, D. (2016) ‘What are you feeling right now?’ Communities of maternal feeling on Mumsnet. Emotion, Space & Society, online ahead of print: http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S175545861630010X

Lupton, D. (2016) Digital media and body weight, shape, and size: an introduction and review. Fat Studies, online ahead of print: http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/21604851.2017.1243392

Lupton, D. (2016) Lively devices, lively data and lively leisure studies. Leisure Studies, 35(6), 709—711.

 

 

3D printing technologies: social perspectives

I have mused before on this blog about the need for sociocultural and critical perspectives on 3D printing technologies (see here). I recently submitted an entry on 3D printing for the Wiley Blackwell Encyclopedia of Sociology. This entry needed to be very short, and in writing it I worked from a longer working paper that includes more detail and references. This working paper can be found here – the abstract is below.

Three-dimensional (3D) printing is a process of fabricating objects using computer-aided design software and hardware that responds to instructions from the software. In this working paper, I provide an overview of 3D printing technologies, including their current and proposed uses. It has been suggested that these technologies offer a way of contributing to the reduction of environmental pollution by reducing the need for transporting goods and minimising waste and energy use in production and may lead to third industrial revolution, including in developing countries. The technologies have also been heralded as promoting open knowledge sharing and creative coding and as potentially contributing to participatory design opportunities and the democratisation of invention, as well as education and cultural heritage. The paper addresses the social, cultural, political and ethical issues concerning 3D printing and outlines directions for future sociological research on these technologies.