[Editor’s note (10/3/2024) Please see the comment below for additional historical context about Queens College]

A shocking disparity defines the US system of information provision.  At one extreme is the multi-trillion-dollar corporate wealth of the for-profit information industry. At the other end is the growing – and deliberately inflicted – poverty of our public information sector.  During the past half-century, capital and class together have gravely worsened this disparity.

Scholars have analyzed the depredations visited by the for-profit information industry on the information sphere in general, and libraries in particular. Corporations have enclosed and raided governmental and other public information sites, while doing everything in their power to vilify the belief that information is, and should be, a social good.[1] A recent appellate court decision to ban the Internet Archive from lending out digital copies of half a million books to the public is only the latest troubling example.[2]

Concomitantly, libraries have faced declining budgets which have forced them to significantly hollow out collection development and other public services and relinquish their traditional functions to for-profit database providers and publishers – at the same time expanding and highlighting rare and precious special archival collections to prospective donors and possible political allies as if this is the sole function of libraries.

However, a closely related second factor has also been at work: a class logic. According to Mary Jane Petrowski, associate director at the Association of College and Research Libraries (ACRL),[3] between 2012 and 2021, 31% of full-time librarian positions, 54% of all other paid full-time staff, have been lost in community colleges. At colleges that offer Baccalaureate and Masters degrees, 34.2% of full-time librarian positions, 55.4% of all other full-time staff have disappeared. For universities that grant PhD degrees, by contrast, the number of full-time librarians has actually increased by 13.7% (while all other full-time staff has dropped 21.7%).

Community college libraries serving mostly working-class students, in other words, have been gutted. Eliminating more than 30% of librarian positions and 50% of staff over a decade means that these libraries find it difficult to remain open.[4] And within colleges that offer Baccalaureate and Masters degrees, there is a comparable disparity. For instance, Queens College, City University of New York (CUNY), has only 9 full-time librarians including cataloging and special collections librarians serving about 16,500 overwhelmingly working-class students[5] – among them 48% are first-generation college students.[6] Since 2019, the library has lost 10 full-time librarian positions to retirement and departure. These positions remain unfilled. Thus, the library is struggling to provide adequate public services like reference and instruction, and is only able to cover the bare minimum of collection development for many subject areas – 30 out of the 58 subjects defined by the library as needed to support dozens of majors, minors, and programs have no subject specialist assigned.[7]

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This is the first of an intermittent series that will focus on the growing need to impose limits on corporate power in communications and on the communications market as a whole.  In the current moment of right-wing mobilization and social polarization, it will also be important to try to examine some of the Left’s assumptions about its reliance on communications systems.

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On 6 August 2024, Judge Amit P. Mehta of the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia ruled that Google had maintained a monopoly in search, and therefore violated U.S. antitrust law. [1] Google said it would appeal the ruling.

After more than two decades of promoting neoliberal policies of unregulated growth for the internet sector, antitrust activism has revived among policymakers, think tanks, and academics.[2]  Starting at the tail-end of the Trump administration and continuing under the Biden administration, the U.S. government has renewed anti-monopoly investigations to rein in the tech giants. The government has sued four of them: Amazon, Google (twice), Apple, and Meta.[3] This has been welcomed across the political spectrum.

These anti-trust actions, according to Lina Khan, Chair of the Federal Trade Commission (FTC), are “part of protecting the free market [to] ensur[e] that market outcomes – who wins and who loses – [are] determined by fair competition rather than by private gatekeepers who can serve as de-facto private regulators.”[4] This argument is rooted in neo-classical economics: The FTC asserts that the current market requires correction because it has “deviated” from “fair” competition, as would exist in a “perfect” market.  This view resonates among those who, on the left, embrace a critique of “monopoly capital.” [5]

This renewal of antitrust is to be welcomed, even if it is undertaken for an inadequate reason.  A stronger rationale for mounting a political attack against the titans of the internet would be anchored not in neoclassical economics but, rather, in a sweeping critique of corporate power. Google, Amazon, Meta, Apple and the rest are bad actors for a panoply of reasons. Economically, they stomp all over smaller businesses, whether customers (e.g., advertisers) or suppliers (e.g., news media). Politically, they damage democracy through lobbying, government contracts and other means. Culturally, they saturate us with commercialism, pushing away alternatives. Environmentally, their mammoth data centers force the pace of global heating. In addition to all this, their business model is built upon privacy transgressions, as it surveils and channels individuals as corporate preferences demand.

We should welcome vigorous antitrust policies, therefore, inasmuch as these make it more difficult for the tech companies to continue to have free rein, even if these policies are not based on a far-reaching critique of corporate power – and even if, paradoxically, in the real world of contemporary capitalism, corporate competition has actually intensified.

For, contrary to many accounts, corporate competition has not lessened but increased, alongside the financialization and transnationalization of the political economy. Without a clearer understanding of how competition is structured within the larger framework of today’s capitalism, we won’t be able to strategize on how to limit corporate power – via antitrust or other, more comprehensive means.

Competition is a consequence of capital’s inherent drive for profitable expansion.[6] It is in turn the feature of capitalism that spurs technological change, the search for new markets, and the re-organization of labor to be as productive as possible. In the process of competing, firms may temporarily ally with competitors out of corporate self-interest, to maximize profits.

The intensity of competition often is presumed to correspond to the number of firms in a given industry; if that number is small, then it is supposed to be less competitive.  However, this is not necessarily true. Anwar Shaikh, Stephen Maher, Scott Aquanno, and others have argued that competition is, first and foremost, over profits rather than sales or market shares (though the latter are not unimportant).[7]“It therefore takes the form of competition between investment opportunities” within and between industries.[8] Intensity of competition is in turn not a function of the number of firms; rather, it hinges on the mobility of capital regulated by profitability: “the mobility of capital implies that new investment will accelerate relative to demand in industries with higher rates of profit and decelerate relative to demand in industries with lower rates of profit.”[9]

This mobility is facilitated by finance, and by new forms of financialization, which ease the flows of capital across and within industries and countries. Financial capital is notably well-integrated into today’s tech sector.[10] The search engine industry constitutes a major example.

In 2023, the global search engine market was worth $ 205.48 billion, and it is expected to reach $507.37 billion by 2032, with a compounding annual growth rate of 11%.[11] Competition in this sector is in fact intense.

Three big asset management financial firms – BlackRock, Vanguard, State Street – are all major shareholders of Google, but that does not preclude them from also investing in new search engine companies. Even if one captures a small fraction of $205.48 billion, this is enough incentive for capital to invest, if the profit rate is high enough. A stream of search engine start-ups continues to spring up.[12]

Foremost, Microsoft Bing is still in the search engine game, as is Yahoo!, which is majority-owned by investment funds managed by Apollo Global Management. Apple has plenty of cash on hand to develop its search. It has spent billions of dollars building out its mapping service and app search. Amazon and Meta function as vertical search engines which index a specific domain, and they are eroding Google’s main source of ads revenue. As of 2023, Amazon is the third-largest advertising platform in the US with $49 billion in ads revenue, trailing behind Google and Facebook.[13]

Google has tried mightily to defend its market share and to deflect competition, including paying Apple $22 billion in 2022 aloneto be its default search engine, but it faces a Sisyphean task to eliminate competition. Economist Howard Botwinick explains the theoretical issue: “Within the context of large-scale enterprise, the relentless drive to expand capital value is necessarily accompanied by a growing struggle over market shares. These two dynamics, accumulation and rivalry, are inextricably bound up with one another.”[14]

In addition, competition has spiraled as firms seek to adapt never-ending new technologies to build adjacent and profitable new markets. Search, social media, e-commerce, mobile, cloud, AI, etc. appear to be separate domains, but all are in play among the major tech companies – which foray into each other’s territories while defending their existing profit centers. In each case they are competing to carve out new profitable businesses, even beyond the internet sectors, through ventures into military, automobile, pharmaceutical, agriculture, education, and healthcare markets.[15]

With AI technologies, there are still further entries into the search market. Open AI, backed by Microsoft and major venture capital, is building its own search engine and threatening Google’s core business. During the first six months of 2024 alone, Alphabet, Microsoft, Amazon, and Meta spent $106 billion on AI capital investment.[16] As Geoffrey Hinton, the so-called Godfather of AI, puts it, now that the genie has been unleashed they have no choice but to compete in this domain.[17] Other AI entrants have also plunged into the fray. AI-based search engines Perplexity[18] and Genspark[19] have already raised millions of dollars from asset management firms and venture capital.

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(*With apologies to John Le Carre) A bill to expel the massively popular TikTok from the United States unless it cuts its ties to its Chinese owner, ByteDance, has gained unprecedented political momentum. Shrill arguments in favor of the legislation trumpet a need for national security. Foreign ownership of this social media site, they exclaim, is an urgent threat. However, the national security claim obfuscates the real reason behind the campaign against TikTok. A brief historical review of how the US has deployed foreign ownership strictures in communications helps clarify the situation.

The 1934 Communications Act carried over and cemented provisions in place to cover broadcast media, telecommunications and aeronautical media licensees.[1] Foreigners were barred from owning more than a minority interest 25% – in US radio licensees.[2]  These strictures have endured, though with a notorious exception. 

This departure came under Republican President Reagan’s Federal Communications Commission (FCC). The beneficiary was Rupert Murdoch. In 1985, the FCC allowed Murdoch – on the verge of exchanging Australian for US citizenship – and his Australian News Corporation to purchase seven large US broadcast stations.[3]

Murdoch’s track-record was already plain. He had attacked journalists’ and printers’ unions and -infamously – intervened strongly in his newspaper’s supposedly independent editorial decisions to help ensure that Labor Party Prime Minister Gough Whitlam was not re-elected in 1975.[4] His newspapers had contributed mightily to the rise of Margaret Thatcher in Britain, actively pushing both journalism and politics to the right. And his representation before the FCC was deceptive.[5] Nevertheless, citing a need for “competition,” Reagan’s FCC granted Murdoch a right to enter US major-market broadcasting. This paved the way for him to establish the Fox Broadcasting Network (1986) and, with the aid of the vicious right-winger Roger Ailes, to roll out Fox News a decade later. In 1995, its original decision under challenge from the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), and Murdoch meanwhile having covertly built up his stake in these broadcast properties to 99 percent, a now-Democratic FCC reaffirmed its earlier decision and permitted him to continue owning them.[6] Murdoch is our kind of villain.

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The free flow of information was, as IO has discussed, the guiding doctrine of US international communications policy from the 1940s – the era of news agencies and movies – to the late 2010s and internet-enabled transnational data flows.[1] 

In the face of growing restrictions placed on cross-border data flows by numerous other countries, however, the Biden Administration thereafter reduced the purchase of this foundational policy. Free flow continued to guide the US agenda, but for digital trade blocs:  alliances between the US and specific groups of other countries. The US-Mexico-Canada trade agreement and the US-Japan trade pact were leading examples; and the US sought to expand on these, notably through negotiations on the Indo-Pacific Economic Framework for Prosperity (IPEF).

While still underlining its ostensible commitment to free cross-border flows in general, in February 2024, the Administration nevertheless moved to hedge this through an Executive Order portending restrictions on access to Americans’ “bulk-sensitive data” by “countries of concern.”[2] If the policy context had come to seem ambiguous in early 2024, however, then this was mostly because, paradoxically, in late October 2023 it had grown startlingly clear. This was when the United States Trade Representative (USTR) suddenly withdrew US support for free cross-border data flow provisions in both the ongoing IPEF and World Trade Organization negotiations – upending the prior US position.[3]

How could this happen? The US had been compelled to attenuate its longstanding free flow policy by virtue of its reduced global power or, put differently, because other countries had succeeded in mandating local storage of data and/or in imposing restrictions on international data flows. In response, the US had “shrunk” its policy to apply to digital trade blocs of allied countries – still collectively accounting for a large share of the global economy.  With the late October action, however, the Trade Representative sabotaged the very policy that the US had hitherto done its utmost to preserve, albeit with a reduced footprint. Why?

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