My new book Data Selves: More-than-Human Perspectives has now been released by Polity Press. In the book, I draw on feminist new materialism theory and the anthropology of material culture as well as analyses of popular culture and findings from my empirical studies talking to people about their personal data. I argue that personal data are more-than-human phenomena, invested with diverse forms of vitalities, and reveal the significant implications for data futures, politics and ethics. The book is a companion to my previous Polity book The Quantified Self: A Sociology of Self-Tracking.
In June 2019, I took part in an ‘in conversation’ event at King’s College London, organised by the Social Science & Urban Public Health Institute. The conversation was transcribed and published on the Institute’s website. They have kindly given permission for me to repost the content here. Thank you to Benjamin Henckel and Shayda Kashef for their work on this event and the post.
On 13th June 2019 the Social Science & Urban Public Health Institute (SUPHI) at King’s College London hosted a special in-conversation event with Professor Deborah Lupton. During the event Professor Lupton discussed her forthcoming book Data Selves, and reflected on the role that digital technologies are playing in the urban public health landscape.
Below is an edited version of the transcript from the event. Special thanks to sponsor, PLuS Alliance.
By Benjamin Hanckel and Shayda Kashef
What is digital health and where do you see the field at now?
Digital health is a short, snappy title to refer to the huge range of digital technologies that are used to apply to health, right through from older technologies such as websites, search engines, online discussion forums, through to things like 3D printing of body parts and apps and all those kinds of digital technologies that are quite new on the scene. So I think digital health for me encompasses that diverse range of ways that certain forms of healthcare and health communication can be digitised. And given that there are more and more of these technologies emerging, there’s never something I have to wonder writing about because there’s always something new on the horizon and it’s really interesting to trace their trajectory and find how older technologies are often forgotten about. Google search is probably the number one most highly used digital health technology because people use it as a form of self-triage, and it’s interesting to me how those older technologies are often forgotten about in the rush and the excitement of the social imaginaries that represent newer technologies, such as apps and wearable devices, which is the brave new world of healthcare. People are often still getting much more value from websites and online discussion forums, for example, than they are getting from health apps.
Putting this in the context of your current work, can you tell us about the Vitalities Lab you set up at the University of New South Wales and how it relates to digital health?
I’ve been building on my previous interest in Foucauldian theory now to incorporate some perspectives from new materialisms and particularly feminist new materialisms and vital materialisms, as there’s an overlap between those two materialisms but they aren’t the same thing. I’ve only been at the University of New South Wales for four months but as part of my appointment I was encouraged to set up a research team. The name Vitalities is meant to denote the kinds of directions and interests that I have at the moment. So to begin with I’ve been writing a lot about ‘lively data’ over the past few years and that means people’s personal data and about the digital data economy and how digital data about people take on value. They are lively because people engage with data about their bodies and themselves in ways that synergistically change their own lives, they may respond to their own data and change aspects of their lives based on what their data are telling them. So that’s the notion of lively data.
Vital materialism gets back to that idea of vitalities as well. So, some of the feminist new materialism scholarship that I’ve been engaging with, particularly the work of Karen Barad, Jane Bennett, Donna Haraway and Rosi Braidotti, talk a lot about capacities and affective forces, and how they are generated through interactions that people have with other humans and with non-human actors. It’s very much this idea that there are capacities that are generated when people come together with other people, with non-humans, which I’m trying to explore in my recent research, of course within particular digital technologies, how people engage with their digital devices but also their data to generate new capacities. So that gets back to that vitality as well, there are these capacities constantly being generated and reformed and reconfigured with and through devices and data.
Can you expand on how ‘vitalities’ might contribute to new ways of thinking about methods and methodological enquiry?
In terms of theoretical methods, there’s a sort of emerging approach to qualitative empirical research, post-qualitative inquiry, that I’ve also found really interesting to work with lately. And there’s a very strong overlap of post-qualitative inquiry with more than human theory, because post-qualitative inquiry sees research as always being a research assemblage, as always being partially emergent and sort of going away from the very positivist approach to qualitative approaches which have dominated a lot of health related qualitative enquiry of late. Every type of research is always a research assemblage: the researcher is always part of the data that they generate. So that’s where post-qualitative research departs from the more positivist approach to qualitative research. It’s interesting how the more than human theory is now being brought into research methods: and that’s what I’m trying to do with the kind of work that I’m doing recently, when I’m writing up my own empirical research and analysing it to bring in post-qualitative perspectives as well as the more than human theory that I’m trying to think with when I’m generating concepts that I’m using to analyse my empirical data. So the empirical data might include traditional forms of data such as interview transcripts, or focus group transcripts, but with post-qualitative methods they often now include arts-based materials, drawings, storyboards that people might have made in workshops. I’ve been experimenting with a method called story completion recently, which involves people finishing stories that we start for them and then inviting them to create the narrative, which is another form of research material that I think can be quite interesting to use as a way of understanding people’s experiences. So that’s been a really new method that I’ve been experimenting with as another way of accessing people’s feelings and experiences in ways that they themselves might find hard to articulate if we’re just asking them in an interview to articulate. Because often they’re such mundane experiences for people that coming at it from a more oblique way or a more sort of creative way can be an interesting way to access those kinds of experiences and fears.
Can you expand on how you have engaged with some of these themes in your most recent work, and in particular in your forthcoming book Data Selves?
Data Selves covers what I call ‘living data’ and it gets back to the lively data I was talking about earlier, but also how people live with and through and alongside their personal data. In Data SelvesI’m really trying to expand on feminist new materialism, human data assemblages ideas, and I argue that people’s personal data are often represented in dematerialised and depersonalised ways, such as when we talk about the big data phenomenon, the data tsunami and being overwhelmed by data. And we often forget that not all data that are generated by, for example smart cities or by any other form of data generation, are about non-humans. But a lot of those data are about actual humans, about their lives, about their bodily practices and habits and routines.
With Data Selves, as the title suggests, I wanted to bring in that more than human, non-human aspect and to understand data human assemblages as all human assemblages, and bring in that humanity and re-humanise this core data. And for me that raises a different form of ethics around those data. I’m arguing that we should think of personal data in similar ways, as sort of embodied, human, not fleshy but they’re kind of about our flesh, that sort of ambiguous ontology. So I would argue that we need to think of them in certain ways like we think of other body parts and other body attributes that people donate or give or sell in some situations as very much human remains, and I’m arguing that that’s how we should treat people’s personal data, and that raises questions about the ethics of how other people might use those data and seek to profit from those data.
In the book I draw on a few of my empirical research projects, which do talk about people, about how they engage with and make sense of their data, and I’m arguing that we need to understand people’s engagements with their data as very often infused with affect, vulnerabilities, multi-sensory engagement. So there’s actually a chapter on what I call materialisations of data, when I talk about social imaginaries of data, the very utopian ideas of data as being very productive and generative, and how people themselves can benefit from their own data. So there’s that very positive representation. Then what’s interesting that over the past few years though, when talking about people’s personal data there’s this very dystopian representation of data that privacy no longer exists. So you’ve got really interesting polar representations of how people’s data can be used in both positive and negative ways.
I did a project which I called the Data Personas Project and that built on the design methods approach, personas. I called it their data persona, or a profile of you that’s made about details about you from your online and app related encounters and engagements. And then I asked people to imagine the futures of their data persona, because I think there’s a lot of interesting and intriguing ways we can think about inviting people to imagine futures, rather than having futures imagined for them, on behalf of them by others. I also asked them how similar or different is your data persona from you? Some people did imagine a dystopian idea whereby nothing is private, you know, the internet knows everything about me, but most people said the internet doesn’t know everything about me, it doesn’t know my internal beliefs and feelings, and so on. So I thought that was really interesting because we also get this discourse in media studies in particular and surveillance studies which is very critical of the idea that people think privacy is dead and they’re not concerned about their privacy, you know, the privacy paradox, so yes, people say “I’m worried about my privacy” but they don’t do anything to actually protect their privacy. But that research that I did using the data persona concept kind of shows that people don’t think that their privacy has been completely taken over by the internet.
There is an ongoing debate about data capture for the common good, versus data capture that is perceived as morally questionable. How might we think about these boundaries?
I try to avoid a really normative approach to these kinds of ethical discussions. The context is everything. And people’s contexts are so variable and unique to them, that’s what really comes out when you look at the ways that people engage with digital technologies and digital data. If you look at the Association of Internet Researchers document on ethics around doing research with online materials, it’s really interesting because they argue that you have to look at the context for each research project. There shouldn’t be hard and fast guidelines about how social research is used when we’re talking about using people’s personal data. More recently, human ethics committees have become far more aware of that, as people might be putting their information out there when they go online, so it’s become a more complicated situation now. It’s not as easy to get ethics approval and you do actually have to argue for why and how you’ll get those people’s consent or if you don’t, why not and so on, so it’s become far more complicated. All I would say is that there needs to be these very detailed, lengthy considerations about the context.
But all those issues around whether people know that you’re accessing their data, to what extent, now there’s the issue now with de-anonymisation too, Because if you know what you’re doing, data harvesters can be really good at de-anonymising data to generate detailed profiles about people.
But even when a decision is made about if it is appropriate to generate these data and what to use people’s data for, because it might improve public health or improve treatment for medical conditions, really strong data privacies and security measures can be leaked or breached or hacked. So you don’t know what the future of those lively data might be, so that’s very difficult.
The event concluded with a brief Q&A session with the audience which covered a range of issues, including:
- An expansion of the debate about data collection, and how we manage data capture within the context of emerging technologies, and
- A discussion about the possibilities for technologies to benefit certain people who are marginalised, such as people with disabilities, with Professor Lupton acknowledging that there is more to do in this area.
AoIR Preconference Workshop: Re/imagining Personal Data
- Tuesday 1 October 2019, University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia
- 9.30 am-12.30 pm (followed by catered lunch)
Organisers: Deborah Lupton (UNSW Sydney), Larissa Hjorth (RMIT) and Annette Markham (Aarhus University)
Overview: This half-day workshop involves a selection of hands-on arts- and design-based activities to invite participants to re/imagine personal digital data. Participants will be able to experiment with innovative methods of eliciting creative and more-than-representational responses to personal data and generating speculative imaginaries about the futures of data. These methods can be used for teaching purposes or research projects.
We will be using these activities to explore and respond to these key questions:
- What do personal data do?
- How best can we use them?
- What is our relationship with our personal data?
- Which data do we want to keep and protect and which do we want to discard or forget?
- What are our affective and sensory engagements with these data?
- What are the futures of personal data?
Participants at all levels of research experience are invited to attend, including postgraduate students and people working outside the university sector.
Registration and lunch are free, but places are strictly limited.
Please contact Deborah Lupton, Faculty of Arts & Social Sciences, UNSW Sydney (email@example.com ) as soon as possible with an email noting that you’d like to register to secure your place.
Please note that this workshop follows the Data Futures conference, 30 September 2019, also to be held at UNSW Sydney (details here), and precedes the Association of Internet Researchers Conference taking place in Brisbane (details here).
Photo credit: “I Love Data” She Wept. Bixtentro, Flickr. CC BY 2.0
I am currently working on analysing interviews from my newest research project ‘Facebook and Trust’. This project was designed in response to the huge publicity given to the Facebook/Cambridge Analytica scandal in March this year. I was interested in investigating how Australian Facebook users were using the platform in the wake of the scandal and what their feelings were about how Facebook make use of the personal information that is uploaded.
Following the scandal, numerous news reports claimed that large numbers of Australians were deleting their Facebook accounts as part of the #DeleteFacebook trend. As one report contended,
Many Australians are for the first time discovering just how much Facebook knows about them and many are shocked, leading them to quit the platform.
A Pew survey of US adults conducted soon after Cambridge Analytica found that around a quarter of respondents had deleted the Facebook app from their phone in the past 12 months, and more than half had adjusted their privacy settings The survey did not ask directly about why the respondents had taken these measures, and as the time-frame related to the past year there may have been other reasons that these respondents had taken these actions (for example, different controversies over ‘fake news’ or poor content moderation on Facebook that have also received high levels of news media publicity).
Indeed, it is interesting to compare these findings with a previous Pew survey undertaken at the end of 2012, in which over two-thirds of the respondents who were current Facebook users said that they had sometimes voluntarily taken a break from using the platform and one-fifth who said they were not current Facebook users had used the platform at one time but had stopped using it. Those who had taken an extended break or had stopped using Facebook referred to reasons such as not wanting to expend too much time on the platform or finding the content overly personal, trivial or boring. As this survey suggests, some Facebook users have long had ambivalent feelings about using the platform.
There are no reliable statistics that I can find on how many Australians have deleted their Facebook account post-Cambridge Analytica. According to the Social Media Statistics Australia website, which provides a monthly report on Australians’ use of social media, in September 2018 approximately 60% of Australians (across the total population, including children) were active Facebook users, and 50% of Australians were logging on once a day. A similar proportion of Australians were regular YouTube users: both platforms had 15 million active monthly users. Next in order of popularity were Instagram (9 million users per month), Snapchat (6.4 million), WhatsApp (6 million), Twitter (4.7 million), LinkedIn (4.5 million) and Tumblr (3.7 million).
In terms of age breakdown, the site reports that in September 2018, Australians aged 25 to 39 years were the largest group of Facebook users (6.1 million), followed by those aged 40 to 55 (4.1 million), 18 to 25 (3.5 million), 55 to 64 (1.6 million) and 65 years and over (1.2 million). Less than a million of Australians aged 13 to 17 years used Facebook,
I compared the report for February 2018 (the month before the Cambridge Analytica scandal was publicised) and May 2018 (soon after the scandal) with the figures for September 2018. The website reports that in both February and May 2018, there were 15 million monthly active Australian users, just as there were for September 2018. So if large numbers of Australians have deleted their accounts, this is not showing up in these data.
The interviews I am currently analysing should cast some light on how Australian Facebook users have responded (if at all) to the Cambridge Analytica scandal and other privacy-related issues concerning the personal information they upload to Facebook. I’ll provide an update on the findings once I finish working through the interviews.
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.
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.
For a while now, I have sought out the work of artists and designers who are working on interesting critical projects related to digital data, particularly personal data (as this is one of my main research interests). I have discussed some of this work in several of my publications, including my book on the sociology of the quantified self.
A recent tweet asking the Twitter ‘hive mind’ whose work they knew about generated many more additions (thank you to those who contributed).
Here’s a list that I have subsequently put together – I am sure it is by no means comprehensive, but at least it’s a start!
Photo credit: Fee Plumley: CC By 2.0 (found on Flickr)
I have had an article accepted for publication in a special issue on haptic media in New Media & Society. In the article, I discuss the ways in which people’s engagements with their personal digital data can be facilitated with the use of touch, by generating three-dimensional materialisations of their data.
The introduction to the article is below. The PDF of the entire author’s accepted version is here: Lupton 2017 Feeling data – touch and data sense. (Edited to add – the published version of the article in the journal is here).
People’s encounters and entanglements with the personal digital data that they generate is a new and compelling area of research interest in this age of the ascendancy of digital data. The emergence of novel modes of generating digital data about humans and their activities and movements has the potential for new ways of learning about and conceptualising bodies, selves and social relations. The experience of everyday life in many parts of the world is now increasingly datafied – rendered into digital data forms. People’s interactions online, their use of mobile and wearable devices, and other ‘smart’ objects and their movements in sensor-embedded spaces all generate multiple and constant flows of digital data, often about intensely personal actions and preferences, social relationships, and bodily functions and movements. They are encouraged to take the opportunity to view and reflect on this information and use it to optimise their lives, improve their health and wellbeing, contribute to their memories or achieve self-knowledge (Lupton, 2016b; 2016a; Nafus and Sherman, 2014; Selke, 2016). In response to the continual data streams and traces generated about them, people are learning to come to terms with how their personal information is generated and what meanings and value it offers them. They are now called upon to engage with a variety of forms of information about themselves and to confront the complexities of how these data are used by others.
Responding to personal data is a highly sensory experience, involving people to engage in complex negotiations between assessing the information they receive from their embodied senses and that generated from digital devices. The ways in which their personal details are translated from digital data into material form are important to people’s sensory engagements with their data. Most discussions of personal digital data materialisations have focused on two-dimensional visual renderings: data visualisations that are primarily designed to be looked at. This article is intended as a contribution towards understanding the sensory dimensions of personal digital data, with a particular focus on the haptic. I explore the topic of how personal digital data and their circulations can be made more perceptible and therefore interpretable to people with the use of three-dimensional materialisations that invite not only viewing but also touching and handling, and in some cases, the senses of hearing, taste and smell as well. I argue that these forms of data materialisation are potentially integral to new modes of understanding and incorporating personal data into everyday life, living with and alongside these data.
The discussion is structured into several parts. In the first part, I review some of the relevant literature on human embodiment, the senses and digital technologies, establishing the theoretical basis that is further developed in the article. This is followed by a discussion of how the ontologies of personal digital data may be theorised. I then introduce the notion of data sense, drawing attention to the sensory dimensions of how people interpret their data. I then discuss the ways in which personal digital data can be fabricated into three-dimensional forms using 3D printing technologies – data physicalisations – so that they can be experienced and responded to in multisensory ways. I provide examples of objects created from personal digital data that can be handled, displayed as decorative artefacts, worn on the body as jewellery and even eaten. Finally, I address the politics of personal data and their materialisations. The concluding comments raise some directions for further research emerging from this discussion.
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).
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) 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.)
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.
As a digital sociologist, I have become fascinated by the social and cultural implications of 3D printing technologies. Few sociologists or any other critical academic commentators have begun to investigate how 3D printing is beginning to affect society. Yet as 3D printing technologies move into an expanding realm of contexts, there is much opportunity to analyse their effects. Not only are these technologies having an impact on industrial manufacturing and the distribution of goods, makers, artists and designers are taking them up in intriguing ways. 3D printing is being used in medicine and dentistry, public relations and marketing and in fan cultures. These technologies are being introduced into schools and incorporated into the curriculum. As the price of 3D printers falls, they will become an addition to more households. There are significant environmental and legal issues in relation to how they are used, including questions about intellectual property.
As part of my initial explorations into the sociology of 3D printing, last week I published two pieces on these technologies. One was an article for The Conversation, in which I discussed the phenomenon of the 3D self replica. This is a figurine that can be made of a person using the digital data derived from 3D scanning software. The technologies to generate these artefacts are rapidly moving into a range of leisure domains, including sporting events, shopping centres, airports, concerts and amusement parks as well as fan cultures and marketing programs. 3D printed self replicas can even be made at home using a software package developed for the Xbox Kinect game box and a home 3D printer. Some commentators have referred to these replicas as ‘3D selfies’ because they involve the production of a personal likeness. In the article I speculated about the ways in which people may start to use these figures as markers or mementos of their bodies and social relationships.
The second piece was an academic article that discusses the use of 3D printing of what I entitle ‘digital body objects’ for medical and health-related purposes. The article explores the use of non-organic materialisations of people’s body parts for medical purposes as well as the fabrication of self-tracked bodily data into objects. Here is the abstract: the full paper can be accessed here:
The advent of 3D printing technologies has generated new ways of representing and conceptualising health and illness, medical practice and the body. There are many social, cultural and political implications of 3D printing, but a critical sociology of 3D printing is only beginning to emerge. In this article I seek to contribute to this nascent literature by addressing some of the ways in which 3D printing technologies are being used to convert digital data collected on human bodies and fabricate them into tangible forms that can be touched and held. I focus in particular on the use of 3D printing to manufacture non-organic replicas of individuals’ bodies, body parts or bodily functions and activities. The article is also a reflection on a specific set of digital data practices and the meaning of such data to individuals. In analysing these new forms of human bodies, I draw on sociomaterialist perspectives as well as the recent work of scholars who have sought to reflect on selfhood, embodiment, place and space in digital society and the nature of people’s interactions with digital data. I argue that these objects incite intriguing ways of thinking about the ways in digital data on embodiment, health and illnesses are interpreted and used across a range of contexts. The article ends with some speculations about where these technologies may be headed and outlining future research directions.
These initial forays into a sociology of 3D printing represent merely a small component of possible avenues for theorising and research into the social impact of this technology. What I am particularly interested in at the moment is the implications for people’s data practices, or how the material objects that are generated from 3D printing technologies act as ‘solidified’ personal data. Future writings will investigate these issues in greater depth.