Tag: corporate social responsibility

  • The Case for Scope 3 Emissions

    The Case for Scope 3 Emissions

    The digital economy treats human attention as a raw material to be mined without limit. However, this extraction produces a specific, harmful byproduct: it breaks our focus, fractures shared reality, and wears down the patience required for moral reasoning. Unlike physical pollution, which damages the air or water, this cognitive waste damages our ability to think. While corporations are increasingly held accountable for their physical footprint through ESG criteria, we ignore the mental damage caused by the product itself. What we are witnessing is the intentional fragmentation and manipulation of citizenry to the point of inability to functionally contribute to democracy. In this paper, I argue that this damage is a hidden cost that must be pro-actively regulated within specifically designed metrics and cognitive impact protocols, specifically expanding Scope 3 regulations to include “Cognitive Emissions.”

    To understand why this regulation is necessary, we must look at what is being lost. While the market views attention as a commodity to be sold, ethical philosophy defines it as the foundation of morality. French philosopher Simone Weil argued that “attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity” (Weil 1951, 105); it is the ability to pause one’s own ego to recognize the reality of another person. When digital platforms take over this “Attentional Commons” (Crawford 2015, 12), they do not merely distract us; they dismantle the mental tools, specifically the capacities for self-regulation and deliberation, required to govern ourselves (Crawford 2015, 23). Without the capacity for sustained, coherent thought, the self becomes fragmented, losing the sense of stability required to be a responsible citizen (Giddens 1991, 92).

    This fragmentation is not accidental. It is the result of a specific design philosophy that makes apps as tailored and easy to use as possible. Using Daniel Kahneman’s distinction, modern algorithms keep users trapped in “System 1” (fast, instinctive thinking) while bypassing “System 2” (slow, logical thinking) (Kahneman 2011, 20). System 2 governs executive control, a high-metabolic function that relies on cognitive resistance to maintain neural integrity. Neurobiologically, this follows the principle of use-dependent plasticity: neural pathways responsible for complex reasoning strengthen through challenge and degrade through disuse (Mattson 2008, 1). When an algorithm molds users into passive consumption, it removes the necessary friction required to sustain these pathways, leading to a functional degradation of critical thought.

    Consequently, this process is invasive. By predicting our desires, algorithms bypass our will, seizing our attention before we can decide where to place it. While Shoshana Zuboff calls this “surveillance capitalism” (Zuboff 2019, 8), the mechanism is closer to a slot machine. As Natasha Dow Schüll observes, these interfaces use design loops to induce a trance-like state that overrides conscious choice (Schüll 2012, 166). This is built-in user manipulation. Neuroscience research on “Facebook addiction” confirms that these platforms activate the brain’s impulse systems while suppressing the prefrontal cortex, the part of the brain responsible for planning and control (Turel et al. 2014, 685). The result is a depletion of critical thought, creating a population that reacts rather than reflects.

    Regulating this harm means looking to the precedent of carbon reporting. The Greenhouse Gas Protocol’s “Scope 3” covers indirect emissions, including those generated by the use of sold products (WRI/WBCSD 2004, 25). I propose applying this exact reasoning to the digital economy: a tech company must be responsible for the mental effects of product use. They are destructive because they erode the basic cognitive foundations required for a functioning society (Habermas 1989, 27). If a platform’s design creates measurable addiction, radicalization, or a loss of attention span, these are “emissions” that incur a cost to humanity.

    To develop sustainable and reliable policies, we require new auditing metrics. We must calculate the speed at which content triggers emotional responses and establish a fragmentation index to measure how often an app interrupts deep work. This is a necessary (albeit complicated) metric given that regaining focus after an interruption takes significant time and energy (Mark 2008, 108). Furthermore, we must assess the deficit of serendipity, determining whether an algorithm narrows a user’s worldview or introduces the necessary friction of new ideas.

    Once measured, these emissions can be mitigated through cognitive impact protocols. This includes mandating friction by design to force users to pause and think. For example, when Twitter introduced prompts asking users to read articles before retweeting, “blind” sharing dropped significantly (Twitter Inc. 2020). This proves that simple friction can measurably reduce cognitive waste. Beyond individual features, firms must submit to independent audits to ensure their code promotes agency rather than addiction. Finally, just as carbon sinks absorb physical waste, digital firms should be mandated to fund zones (libraries, parks, and phone-free spaces) where our attention can recover.

    It can be argued that introducing friction impedes innovation and destroys value. This view, however, fails to account for the long-term liability of cognitive degradation. A market that incentivizes the depletion of user agency creates a systemic risk to the public. By implementing “Scope 3 Cognitive Emissions,” we operationalize the cost of this damage, forcing platforms to account for the mental impact of their design choices. We are currently operating with a dangerous separation between our technological power and our institutional controls (Wilson 2012, 7). Closing this gap requires a shift, moving away from design that exploits immediate impulse. We must engineer digital environments that protect, rather than degrade, the cognitive autonomy required for a free society.

    References
    Crawford, Matthew B. 2015. The World Beyond Your Head: On Becoming an Individual in an
    Age of Distraction. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

    Giddens, Anthony. 1991. Modernity and Self-Identity: Self and Society in the Late Modern Age.
    Stanford: Stanford University Press.

    Habermas, Jürgen. 1989. The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a
    Category of Bourgeois Society. Cambridge: MIT Press.

    Kahneman, Daniel. 2011. Thinking, Fast and Slow. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

    Mark, Gloria, and Deepti Gudithala. 2008. “The Cost of Interrupted Work: More Speed and
    Stress.” Proceedings of the SIGCHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems,
    107–110.


    Mattson, Mark P. 2008. “Hormesis Defined.” Ageing Research Reviews 7 (1): 1–7.
    Pigou, Arthur C. 1920. The Economics of Welfare. London: Macmillan.

    Schüll, Natasha Dow. 2012. Addiction by Design: Machine Gambling in Las Vegas. Princeton:
    Princeton University Press.

    Sunstein, Cass R. 2017. #Republic: Divided Democracy in the Age of Social Media. Princeton:
    Princeton University Press.

    Turel, Ofir, Qinghua He, Gui Xue, Lin Xiao, and Antoine Bechara. 2014. “Examination of Neural
    Systems Sub-Serving Facebook ‘Addiction’.” Psychological Reports 115 (3): 675–695.

    Twitter Inc. 2020. “Read before you Retweet.” Twitter Blog, September 24.

    United Nations Global Compact. 2004. Who Cares Wins: Connecting Financial Markets to a
    Changing World. New York: United Nations.

    Weil, Simone. 1951. “Reflections on the Right Use of School Studies with a View to the Love of
    God.” In Waiting for God, translated by Emma Craufurd, 105–116. New York: Harper & Row.

    Wilson, Edward O. 2012. The Social Conquest of Earth. New York: Liveright.
    World Resources Institute and World Business Council for Sustainable Development
    (WRI/WBCSD). 2004. The Greenhouse Gas Protocol: A Corporate Accounting and Reporting
    Standard, Revised Edition. Washington, DC: WRI/WBCSD.

    Zuboff, Shoshana. 2019. The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at
    the New Frontier of Power. New York: PublicAffairs.

  • The Lizard People

    The Lizard People

    (And Why We Are Creating Them)

    Lizard People.

    It is the label commonly tossed around Silicon Valley backrooms to describe a specific breed of colleague: those devoid of human consideration, understanding, or empathy. In lay terms, socio- and psychopaths. In our terms, the architects of the modern world.

    While the “Lizard Person” is a metaphor (lest we veer into David Icke conspiracy territory), the data suggests the archetype is real. According to research by Dr. Robert Hare and Dr. Paul Babiak, while only about 1% of the general population qualifies as psychopathic, that number jumps to an estimated 3% to 4% among senior business executives (Babiak & Hare, 2006). Other studies suggest the number in upper management could be as high as 12% (Croom, 2021).

    What draws them there? And more importantly, what happens when we strip-mine the education system of the Humanities, removing the very tools designed to stop their creation?

    To understand the Lizard Person, we first have to look at the human mind.

    The age-old debate of “nature vs. nurture” asks if we are born this way or if we are merely clay dolls molded by our environment. Consider Dr. James Fallon, a neuroscientist at UC Irvine. While studying the brain scans of serial killers, Fallon discovered a scan that looked exactly like a psychopath’s: low activity in the orbital cortex, the area involved in ethical behavior and impulse control.

    The scan was his own.

    Fallon possessed the genetic and neurological markers of a killer. Yet, he was a non-violent, successful academic. Why? As Fallon argues, it was his upbringing (a supportive, connected community) that prevented his biology from becoming his destiny (Fallon, 2013).

    If isolation breeds monsters, then community breeds humans. The most effective way to establish that sense of community is to understand where you came from. To feel like part of a whole. This is the function of the Humanities: studying our species’ art, our evolution, our history. It stops us from becoming mindless, formula-spouting robots.

    Philosopher Martha Nussbaum warns of this explicitly in her book Not for Profit. She argues that by slashing Humanities budgets in favor of technical training, we are producing “useful machines” rather than citizens capable of empathy or democratic thought (Nussbaum, 2010). We are removing the very curriculum that teaches us to see others as souls rather than data points.

    Capitalism and Lizard People are a match made in hell (pardon my French). The system is the perfect playground for someone without empathy. Corporations love a mindless accountant who crunches numbers all day without questioning shady tax reports. CEOs love optimizing operations to boost margins, even if it means exploiting labor or the environment.

    Consider the “efficiency” of lobbying. A study regarding the American Jobs Creation Act of 2004 found that for every $1 corporations spent lobbying for this tax holiday, they received a return of $220 in tax savings—a staggering 22,000% return on investment (Alexander et al., 2009).

    This is what happens when you optimize for math without morals. You get high returns, questionable ethics, and a ruling class that views the population as a resource to be mined rather than a community to be served.

    Perhaps these decisions are intentional features of the system, not bugs. But the education system can at least attempt to lower the odds of this outcome by producing an ethically aware population. By removing the requirement of Humanities courses, we remove the requirement of understanding what makes us human.


    Resources

    Alexander, Raquel M., et al. “Measuring Rates of Return for Lobbying Expenditures: An Empirical Analysis Under the American Jobs Creation Act.” SSRN Electronic Journal, 2009.

    Babiak, Paul, and Robert D. Hare. Snakes in Suits: When Psychopaths Go to Work. HarperCollins, 2006.

    Croom, Simon. “The Prevalence of Psychopathy in Corporate Leadership.” Fortune, 2021.

    Fallon, James. The Psychopath Inside: A Neuroscientist’s Personal Journey into the Dark Side of the Brain. Current, 2013.

    Nussbaum, Martha. Not for Profit: Why Democracy Needs the Humanities. Princeton University Press, 2010.