Big tech vs little tech 🦾

(First published 13 July, 2026)

The short version: I'm moving the newsletter to Ecosend.

The long version starts in 1995, when eight-year-old Jack was happily chatting with his friend Eliza. "I am bored," Jack would say. "Why are you bored?" Eliza would ask. "There's nothing to do," Jack would say. "Why is there nothing to do?" Eliza would ask. Jack would slowly type out his answer. (He had to type, because Eliza was a chatbot who lived on his parents' computer.)

By 1996, Jack was making his own computer games. By 2002, he and his friend Paul (a real person this time) had won Game of the Week on a small indie site for a 2D platformer called Butterfly 660. (Paul went on to become an extremely successful game developer, so maybe Jack doesn't deserve much of the credit for the award.)

Little Jack liked Little Tech, but Big Jack doesn't like Big Tech. Come to think of it, Medium-Sized Jack didn't like it either; long-time readers may recall that my debut novel was set in a dystopia where a single technology giant ruled over a smogged-up, overheated world, owning everything and everyone. Twenty years later, I feel like I'm living inside that book... except there are actually three or four tech giants fighting to own me, which is not as nice as it sounds.

Yes, yes, I know. Becoming increasingly annoyed by newfangled gadgets and gizmos is just what happens as you approach middle age. But my problem isn't that I don't understand new technology—my problem is that I do. For example, I know why websites take longer to load than they used to, even though internet speeds are faster: it's because of all the invisible trackers. I know why Facebook only shows me things that make me angry: it's trying to trick me into posting a comment, which will trick someone else into responding, which will keep both of us on the platform long enough to show us ads for things neither of us will ever buy (but I also know that's not Facebook's problem; they get paid either way). When I say, "Hey Google, what song is this?" my smart speaker still names the song but no longer names the singer, and I know why: Spotify wants me to be loyal to them, not the artist. That will ensure a smooth transition when they phase out humans altogether, serving us only "music" "made" by "artificial" "intelligence".

OK, I definitely sound like an old man now. The point is that until recently I've had a "Well, what can you do?" attitude (which of course suited the tech juggernauts just fine). But now I'm making a concerted effort to support more ethical organisations. I switched from Google to Ecosia. I switched from Spotify to iHeart and Bandcamp. I switched from Meta to Mastodon. (Side note: I'd assumed the ethical options wouldn't be as good as their profit-driven counterparts, but actually they're all significantly better. I guess when you already dominate the market, there's not much incentive to make a good product? You're better off bribing politicians so they don't regulate you.)

And this brings me (finally) to Ecosend—an email marketing company that supports biodiversity and climate projects. I'm not going to give you the whole spiel—you can Google them if you're interested (but make sure you Google them with Ecosia, not Google).

I have a pretty simple privacy policy: "I'll never sell your information." But I also thought it would be good manners to give you the chance to opt out before I give your email address (nothing else, by the way) to Ecosia on Wednesday. Feel free to unsubscribe below; I promise there are no hard feelings! Otherwise, you'll hear from me again when the migration is complete.

Stay awesome, fellow readers!

—Jack

P.S. If you're reading this on my blog (and I know you are) then you don't have to worry—I don't collect any information about visitors to my website. But are you tempted by my brand-new, super-ethical newsletter? Subscribe via email or RSS.