This chapter explores how readers who have chosen an e-book decide on their next step, contrasting the motivations for purchase (or conditional use license purchase), loan, and piracy. It draws on legal scholarship, book history, and fan studies to investigate how bookness and realness in the form of meaningful ownership can be constituted if desired, acknowledging that bookness and realness may be unwanted when readers prefer temporary, unauthorised, or unambiguously illegal uses. This recasts e-books as an integral part of building a personal library: sometimes as components, but sometimes just as tools. It concludes with evolving understanding of the rights of the reader and the fraught question of e-book control, and readers’ experiences of conflict with corporate entities over ownership of their collections. This further demonstrates how readers are able to move flexibly between conceptions of e-books as real books, ersatz books, and digital proxies.

This chapter examines e-book realness in terms of identity and love: e-books shared or not shared, displayed or not displayed, and made a cherished part of the reader’s personal history or barred from such status. It examines aspects of display and cultural capital in forms specific to digital and forms specific to print. It investigates how stereotypes (of some readers as unqualified and some reading practices as inferior) and assumptions (including tropes of furtive reading) interact with existing narratives of literary decline, technology as a threat to culture, and women as incompetent readers. It explores love for reading devices as well as love for print, and how identity as a bibliophile proves compatible with e-reading. E-books are only sometimes real, but it is their very flexibility that makes them so valuable to book lovers. They can be public or private, permanent or ephemeral, valuable or valueless, intimate or distant, depending on one’s usage and settings but also on one’s idea of what an e-book is; and, as demonstrated, that idea is highly adaptable and at least sometimes under one’s conscious control.

This chapter investigates first encounters with e-books and the processes by which readers evaluate a given work. Drawing on Genette’s theories of paratext and Drucker’s of performative materiality, it examines how trust is established and legitimacy constituted in practice, considering realness and bookness in terms of a given e-book’s status as cultural product and cultural object, and the ways in which e-book legitimacy can hinge on relationship to a print edition or to traditional mainstream publishing. It analyses readers’ rationale of realness on the theme of equivalence, contrasting conceptions of an e-book as real because ‘bits and ink – there’s no difference’ and unreal because they are ‘not the same product’. Finally, it considers the digital proxy and the ersatz book as two discrete types of e-book unrealness.

Public whistleblowers can struggle to gain support. Working with colleagues can help. When formal shields like laws and official channels prove useless, whistleblowers can turn to other workers in the same situation. This is illustrated with the case of Christian Smalls, warehouse manager at Amazon who was fired for speaking out about health and safety issues during the COVID-19 pandemic. Christian went public with his disclosures, supported by close colleagues initially and quickly extending his support base to senators, broadsheet journalists and prime-time TV producers, all of whom covered his struggle. Even Amazon executives came out against their company’s attacks on whistleblowers. This chapter also showcases the mistakes organizations can make when engaged in aggressive reprisal, mistakes that can backfire. Whistleblowers’ former training as managers can strengthen their capacity to strategize, organize and make the most of such unintended consequences. Whistleblower alliances with supportive colleagues are critical for success, but tensions can emerge in the high-stress and fast-changing context of an escalating and high-profile whistleblowing disclosure.

In Chapter 6, we present our reconceptualization of organizational control. We discuss four fundamental shifts in organizations – from face-to-face work to remote work; from stable, full-time work to alternative work arrangements; from human managers to algorithmic control; and from traditional to platform-mediated gig work – and discuss the impact of these shifts on organizational control. Our reconceptualization consists of both a conceptual part, where we advance a configurational approach to model the causal complexity inherent in organizational control, and an empirical part, where we present exemplary archetypes of control configurations across a variety of twenty-first-century organizations, including US trucking companies, GitLab, Amazon warehouses, Uber, and Upwork.

The book’s overall conclusion summarizes the argument advanced in this book. Despite advancing a theory that utilizes security practice to achieve security as a state of being, it ends on a cautionary note. To wit, although we have established the existence of mandatory securitization, the same should not be considered a ready-made solution to the world ills but rather a necessary evil in an insecure world. The conclusion argues that decision-makers concerned with improving the world should ultimately concern themselves with eradicating the sources of insecurity and not with fighting fires.

Chapter 2 explores the Ecuadorean rainforest landscape, its inhabitants, and their first interactions with the oil industry before large-scale oil extraction started in the late 1960s. It starts by looking back at the millennia of gradual changes when the history of crude oil and the tropical rainforest environment started to intersect. An exploration of the geographical properties of the Amazon landscapes, as well as their flora and fauna including human inhabitants, visualizes the lively environment encountered by the first oilmen visiting the area in the period between the 1920s and the 1960s. Two multinational oil companies, the Leonard Exploration Company and Shell, undertook major efforts to discover petroleum reserves in the Ecuadorean Amazon. Even though their exploration programs failed in the end, their pioneering work of mapping and surveying the rainforest and its subsoil laid the foundation for large-scale petroleum extraction decades later.

Until recently, those wanting to escape the effects of terrestrial light pollution could leave cities and travel to the countryside to observe the night sky. But increasingly there is nowhere, and therefore no way, to escape the pollution from the thousands of satellites being launched each year. ‘Mega-constellations’ composed of thousands or even tens of thousands of satellites are designed to provide low-cost, low-latency, high-bandwidth Internet around the world. This chapter outlines how the application of the ‘consumer electronic product model’ to satellites could lead to multiple tragedies of the commons, from the loss of access to certain orbits because of space debris, to changes to the chemistry of Earth’s upper atmosphere, to increased dangers on Earth’s surface from re-entered satellite components. Mega-constellations require a shift in perspectives and policies. Instead of looking at single satellites, we need to evaluate systems of thousands of satellites, launched by multiple states and companies, all operating within a shared ecosystem.

The rapid development of mega-constellations raises difficult issues of international law, including liability for collisions involving satellites. Establishing ‘causation’ – that the actions of one satellite operator caused a specific collision with another space object and resulted in damage – could be a challenge, especially in the context of knock-on collisions where debris from an initial collision later collides with one or more spacecraft, including satellites. A further challenge is determining, in the absence of binding international rules on the design and operation of satellites, what is ‘reasonable’ behaviour and therefore what constitutes ‘negligence’. This chapter also addresses the interference to astronomy that is increasingly resulting from light and radio spectrum pollution from satellites. A full interpretation of the Outer Space Treaty leads to the conclusion that states are already required to take certain steps, including conducting an environmental impact assessment, before licensing mega-constellations, because of the obligation of ‘due regard to the corresponding interests of all other States Parties to the Treaty’.

The content of this book is rather controversial. It paints a rather bleak picture, that the current EU legal economic system being developed for the data-driven economy is both outdated and – to some extent – a policy at war with itself. It promotes dominant platforms to detriment of others. Moreover, the fundamentals for creating rules are also missing. A liberal economic system needs to be based on aspects of a rights system, otherwise, we risk losing innovation, the establishment of new markets, and the creation of wealth, while we will see increasing market failures. Without a legal system for rights to data, we will lose out of a just system for the distribution of wealth. Indeed, it is time that the data-driven economy and the internet economy are granted their ‘property’ rights, reflecting the new paradigm of the data-driven industrial revolution. Moreover, such a regime fits well with the European economic constitution now being established.

Generally, it might seem that the problem of a few system leaders hoarding data should be addressed by competition law. Market power and monopolizations generally trigger competition-law remedies. However, as will be discussed below, when it comes to accessing data, and especially when access to data should be granted as a continuing service, competition law is generally the wrong platform to use. Access or forced collaboration is difficult to establish under competition law. The case law of the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) makes it difficult to succeed in arguing that a refusal to grant access to data is an abuse of market dominance under Article 102 TFEU. Proving market dominance in data-related markets is a challenging undertaking and is highly case specific. Similarly, the very stringent requirements defining abuse were developed for different situations and may need to be adapted to circumstances of the data-driven economy. More importantly, only undertakings would be able to rely on a right to access data under Article 102 TFEU, which would generally exclude access claims of consumers. Finally, the enforcement system of competition law does not seem to be sufficiently effective to guarantee competitive markets for the mass phenomenon of data lock-ins caused by connected devices.1

Sector-specific regulations apply in several network industries. The telecom sector and infrastructures such as utilities have been regulated based on the notion that they are natural monopolies and need to be regulated to prevent facilitation of monopolies. However, in the beginning of the internet era, large tech escaped regulation.1

Data is vital to the internet-based economy and will become even more important in the old economy as the Internet of Things (IoT) gains ground. The competitiveness of firms will increasingly depend on timely access to relevant data and the ability to use that data to develop new, innovative applications and products. In consumer-oriented businesses, the relevant data is often personal information; although this data is becoming increasingly collectable, only a few firms have access to larger amounts of it.1