Enshittification: Why the internet feels worse than ever

Has the internet begun to feel dull to you? Has Google stopped giving you the answers you want, or has Facebook turned into a noticeboard of ads? Has YouTube begun nudging you toward videos you neither recognise nor care about, as if the platform has forgotten who you are?

If your answer to all these questions is yes, you are not alone. Our once beloved platforms are fading in quality, and they are doing so in the same predictable way.

You may wonder: When did everything start to feel worse? And why does it feel as if all your favourite platforms have become dull at the same time?

That question sits at the heart of a new idea called "enshittification". The word may make you laugh for a moment, but the idea behind it is serious. The term was coined by the Canadian author and technology critic Cory Doctorow in 2022.

His new book, 'Enshittification: Why Everything Suddenly Got Worse and What to Do About It', expands this idea with precision and anger (quite a lot of it). The book is now widely cited in conversations about digital frustration.

Doctorow argues that enshittification is not a random decline, rather a predictable process. Platforms begin by being good to users. They make things simple and appealing. They allow easy sharing, easy searching, and easy connection.

Once they grow, they turn their attention to business customers. Advertisers and partners become more important. Finally, the platform turns inward and begins to squeeze value from both sides. At this stage, the experience collapses. Users feel trapped, and businesses feel exploited.

Yet, everyone stays, because the alternatives are either weaker or harder to reach or come with a greater opportunity cost.

This pattern can be seen across the digital world. Google, once proud of its "not evil" motto, is a major example. Search results today feel crowded with ads, shopping links, and now layers of AI-generated text that appear before any real sources. The clean and fast tool that once defined web discovery has become a maze. Users still rely on it because the habit is hard to break. That dependence is part of the problem.

Facebook is another classic case. It began as a place to see friends' posts. Today, those posts are often buried under reels, excessive brand promotions, and random algorithmic suggestions. Instagram has also followed a similar path. Photos from friends sit behind streams of viral reels and advertisements. The shift occurs subtly but steadily. Over years, the platform becomes less personal and more commercial. This is exactly how enshittification unfolds.

Amazon's evolution also fits Doctorow's model. The marketplace once felt open and user friendly. Now, the first rows of results are often paid placements. Many of the products are Amazon's own. The best deals sit lower down the page.

Sellers must pay more to be visible, and they pass those costs back to users. The entire shopping experience becomes worse, even though users keep coming back for convenience. Doctorow uses Amazon in the book to show how one company can shape entire markets.

This pattern can be seen across the digital world. Google, once proud of its "not evil" motto, is a major example. Search results today feel crowded with ads, shopping links, and now layers of AI-generated text that appear before any real sources. The clean and fast tool that once defined web discovery has become a maze. Users still rely on it because the habit is hard to break. That dependence is part of the problem.

Netflix offers a different but related example. Its strict crackdown on password sharing angered long-time customers. The removal of basic features, such as casting from a phone to a TV, annoyed many other users.

The service looks familiar on the surface, but the small losses add up. Like Amazon, Netflix knows that users seldom leave in large numbers. That loyalty becomes a lever for the company.

Other platforms show their own versions of decline. Spotify's free version has grown harder to use. YouTube aggressively pushes users toward paid subscriptions. Even smart TVs now load with ads before you reach your own content.

All these shifts hint at the same trend: platforms feel comfortable degrading the experience because they know users will tolerate it.

Doctorow's book does not stop at diagnosis. He offers pathways for change as well. The most important, he argues, is restoring competition. Breaking up monopolies and stronger regulations can help users find real alternatives.

Many countries are already forcing large platforms to improve transparency and to curb the harvesting of personal data. Doctorow notes that when the EU or the UK enforces such rules, global companies often adjust their products everywhere. This brings some effective benefits to users around the world.

Another solution he points to is interoperability. Users should be able to leave a platform without losing their contacts, data, or digital purchases. This freedom can reduce lock-in. Doctorow also stresses the need for empowered tech workers. When workers feel safe to push back against harmful decisions, companies behave better.

None of this will be simple. Enshittification, as Doctorow shows, is built into the design of many modern platforms. But the book also insists that decline is not inevitable. The internet has improved before. It can improve again. The first step is to recognise the pattern. The second is to decide what kind of digital future we want.