Abstract
It is hardly surprising that food can be overconsumed. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention 1 Web site has a striking animation illustrating the rapid spread of obesity in the United States from 1985 to 2010. In 1996, no state had a prevalence of obesity greater than 20%. Fourteen years later, no state had a prevalence of obesity less than 20%, and 12 states had obesity rates greater than 30%. 1 Can the same be said for the consumption of information? Are we becoming “infobese”?
In The Information Diet: A Case for Conscious Consumption, Clay A. Johnson contends that the answer is a resounding yes. Johnson was the cofounder of Blue State Digital, a left-wing Internet strategy agency and the director of Sunlight Labs at the Sunlight Foundation, dedicated to increasing government transparency and accountability. Drawing on his experience as a political strategist and Internet software developer, Mr Johnson makes the case that both the root cause and solution to information overconsumption can be found by analyzing the parallels between the food manufacturing and information manufacturing industries. In much the same way that the cost of calories and the widespread availability of food have arguably led to the obesity epidemic, relatively cheap and readily accessible information have fattened our minds. Reversing these trends requires consuming both calories and content in a more conscientious manner.
The book begins with a brief historical view of nutrition, modern dieting, and the economic forces that led to replacing famine with flab as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Johnson then chronicles how scribes, the printing press, television, and the Internet incrementally and exponentially expanded the volume of information available for individual intake. He takes great care, however, to frame both caloric and information obesity as problems of overconsumption, not of overproduction. The oft discussed concept of information overload is misleading. Johnson argues, Information overload means somehow managing the intake of vast quantities of information in new and more efficient ways. Information overconsumption means we need to find new ways to be selective about our intake. It is very difficult, for example, to overconsume vegetables. (p. 25)
The subsequent 3 chapters are the most compelling and well-researched sections of the book. It is no secret that a financial bottom-line lurks at the base of any commercial information provider, whether it be broadcast news, a book publisher, or an Internet site. The rapidity with which such organizations can determine the marketability of a given piece of information, however, is now virtually instantaneous. In much the same way that factory farms have replaced traditional farming, content farms have replaced traditional journalism. New media and new journalism have traded veracity for salability at a staggering pace. Junk information, like junk food, is both easier to produce and more profitable for the manufacturer.
According to Johnson, this has led to a “new kind of ignorance: one that comes from the consumption of information, not the lack of it.” The proliferation of junk content has made it easier than ever before to spread misinformation under a factual guise. By personalizing the information content that providers feed to consumers, inconvenient truths can be hidden more readily and ego-affirming falsities disguised as fact. It has become not only easier to find support for unsubstantiated beliefs but the ability to track online behavior allows Web sites to feed individual consumer biases with every click of the mouse. Data consumption on the Internet has become more about affirmation than information.
The parallels between physical and mental corpulence can be extended beyond the investigation of their causes toward the development of a solution. The second half of Johnson’s book enumerates the essential components of a healthy information diet. Crash dieting, he argues, is pointless. Information starvation is as unsustainable (and potentially harmful) as fasting is to combating obesity. Instead, he advocates the adoption of healthy consumption practices. Michael Pollan, a food journalist and health activist, famously recommended, “Eat. Not too much. Mostly plants.” For Johnson, the information diet equivalent is, “Consume deliberately. Take in information over affirmation.”
The concept of infoveganism, coined by the author in 2010, forms the core of his information diet. The decision to become vegan is usually an ethical one based on concerns for animal cruelty, carbon emissions, and so on. For vegans, food choices are moral decisions. Making information consumption a moral (or at least conscientious) choice is at the heart of infoveganism. Johnson admits that the adoption of infoveganism is challenging. New skills must be honed to know where good information can be found and how to interpret it. Infoveganism requires consumers to be deliberate in selecting their sources of information and proactive in their interpretation of relevant data. The infovegan obligates himself or herself to thinking before he or she clicks on a link and constructing his or her own interpretation of primary source data rather than relying on Fox News or the Huffington Post for commentary.
Data literacy, increased attention, and a good sense of humor provide the backbone of a well-balanced information diet. Johnson’s book catalogs a broad array of tools and techniques essential to becoming a better information consumer. Concepts such as consume locally, low-ad (as opposed to low-fat or low-carb), and diversity and balance all have obvious counterparts in the realm of nutrition and can be used to tailor a personalized healthy information diet.
Johnson concludes by discussing social activism as the only viable option for affecting change in the information marketplace. Following a personal information diet can make one a better consumer, but the ever-growing domination of Big Info will make it increasing harder for even the most assiduous information consumer to access good data. Changing the industry requires changing the marketplace, and changing the marketplace requires volume. Johnson urges supporting initiatives aimed at increasing data literacy throughout one’s community to increase the demand for good information. Providers of good information must also be rewarded financially so that they can sustain their practices, whereas the provision of affirmation over information must have economic repercussions. Johnson calls for a “vast rational conspiracy” to reshape the information market, which he sees as the primary source of contemporary political gridlock and the greatest threat to the future of the United States.
The Information Diet is concise and entertaining. Johnson’s gripping analysis of the information industry and its roots in broad-spectrum intellectual laziness are both illuminating and disturbing. His wise avoidance of finger-pointing by approaching the crisis as a systematic problem ensures that his message is widely accessible. Even the savviest information consumer is likely to enjoy this book and garner useful lessons for information management. Johnson’s advice is, above all, practical. Although maintaining a healthy information diet will certainly prove challenging for most, he weaves a compelling case for trying.
It is unfortunate that Johnson often overstretches the analogy between food and information overconsumption. Although there are certainly many parallels between the two, he occasionally strains unnecessarily to maintain their equivalence. His cursory analysis of the obesity epidemic also demonstrates a modest amount of ignorance regarding contemporary nutrition science. Furthermore, basing his solution to information obesity on a model that has not been particularly fruitful in fighting widespread food overconsumption inevitably questions the ability of his information diet to tackle information overconsumption. It is also ironic that a book that champions forming individual opinions based on primary sources is itself (by necessity, of course) a work of secondary, processed information.
None of these shortcomings, however, detract significantly from his otherwise forceful account of the personal, social, and political risks inherent in the status quo. Johnson’s brave optimism may be a touch naïve; however, foolish complacency can only guarantee further ideological polarization and collective ignorance. The Information Diet will likely satisfy the taste of any Internet user, regardless of one’s propensity for information gluttony. For most, this will be an important first step toward refining their intellectual palate, opting to savor rich morsels of information rather than to gorge on empty gigabytes of affirmational lard.