Abrahamic religions are interesting in the sense that they share a common history. More specifically, there is a certain evolution of tenets that can be traced from Judaism all the way to Islam. Karen Armstrong’s 1993 A History of God explains this evolution and I remember being blown away by the book when I first read it in the 2000s. A History of God was once banned in Malaysia, and it was only unbanned in the most embarrassing manner for the Malaysian government. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs had invited Karen Armstrong to a panel in Kuala Lumpur, and during the Q&A session, somebody went up to the mic and told the panel that the book was banned.
Earlier this month, I finished another of Karen Armstrong’s 2007 book, The Bible: The Biography.
Armstrong is sympathetic to the idea of religions. So, she is no Richard Dawkins. From my readings, I understand that she tends to interpret religions, even the harshest parts of holy texts, through universal values. This is how The Bible: A Biography is written. Central to this idea is that literal interpretation of holy texts is a relatively recent phenomenon and the source of religious bigotry in our modern world. She describes how the Bible, and specifically the Jewish text Tanakh, is meant to be taken figuratively and interpreted again and again across time to fit contemporary needs. The fact that the Tanakh was originally something not primarily written down but instead remembered and recited made constant reinterpretations not only possible but necessary.
When the texts began to put down in written form, there were objections raised that the exercise would make these documents more concrete than they should be. But the objections could not stand in the way of the natural evolution of language. Written texts were inevitable even before widespread literacy and the printing press became facts.
While written texts sowed the seeds of literalism, the culture of constant reinterpretation within the Jewish and later Christian traditions continued to flourish. Several prominent groups across the centuries created a ‘canon within the canon’ to make their religion kinder and perhaps more consistent with universal values, or perhaps just the Golden Rule, which is to treat others the way you want to be treated.
But the coming of the scientific age had a corroding effect on the culture of figurative and constant interpretation. The exacting nature of science seeped into Judaism and Christianity (and dare I say Islam too), which gave literal interpretation a major boost. American Christian groups especially are guilty of literalism, which brings about an aggressive interpretation of Christianity (and Judaism too, which perhaps provided the religious foundation for the genocide in Gaza).
Literalism not only spreads harsher versions of the religions, but it also highlights inconsistencies within the Bible. Given the way the Bible was written by multiple prophets, sages, and preachers across hundreds—if not thousands—of years, contradictions are aplenty. The traditional ways of understanding the Bible through reinterpretation would easily navigate these contradictions. This can be understood through a Talmudic story: during the first century of the Common Era, the sage Hillel the Elder was challenged by a stranger who said he would convert to Judaism if Hillel could summarize the Torah while standing on one leg. Hillel said, “What is hateful to yourself, do not do to your fellow man. That is the whole of the Torah, and the remainder is but commentary. Go study it.”
Armstrong ends with a call for charity and kindness in reading and interpreting all holy texts including the Bible, the Koran, and others. Reading these texts through that lens would help moderate the excesses of religion. As she writes near the end, “What would it mean to interpret the whole of the Bible as ‘commentary’ on the Golden Rule? It would first demand an appreciation of other people’s scriptures. R. Meir said that any interpretation that spread hatred or denigrated other sages was illegitimate. Today these ‘other sages’ must include Muhammad, Buddha and the rishis of the Rig Veda.”
Malaysia’s strong GDP growth in recent quarters has been attributed to sectors relating to artificial intelligence build-up. More often than not, that means semiconductor-making/packaging/assembly and data center construction. This brings up the question of whether this growth is standing on one leg?
The rough answer I found is no.
One quick and dirty way to answer that question is to strip those sectors out of the whole equation and have an adjusted GDP consisting of the rest of the economy. If that adjusted GDP growth is weak relative to full GDP numbers, that may suggest other sectors are not doing well and perhaps evidence of a one-legged economy.
From the chart above that strips AI-related sectors, it shows the rest of the economy is doing well too since Malaysia’s adjusted GDP growth would still be above 5%.
The chart below shows the difference between the full and the adjusted GDP, which just reflects the earlier graph in a different way. Meaning, it presents more clearly how the AI-related sectors are becoming more and more important to overall growth, even as the overall economy has been expanding at a good rate.
It is possible to be more precise by using input-output table by taking into account things like water and electricity consumption specifically and more generally, all sectors affected by AI-related sectors (notwithstanding the latest official table is outdated by 5 years). But I would imagine as a back-of-the-envelope calculation, this method is good enough.
If you do not like the approach, there is an easier but messier way to show this: the distribution of growth across all sectors.
The big chart above can be summarized:
So in summary: yes, these AI sectors are positive for Malaysian growth but maybe we are are focused on the sexy parts of the economy while ignoring the robustness of a great many industries.
I had one unconventional history tutorial as an undergraduate long ago. Sitting in a chair in a depressing basement classroom during wintertime, the tutor, instead of engaging on material discussed during lectures, was asking what-if questions. What if, instead of what happened in the history books, things took a different turn. What if Germany had won the Second World War? What if the Mongols did not sack Baghdad? What if Imperial China had not attacked Burma?
Some novels used what-if as its speculative root. Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle tries to imagine a victorious Axis and the reality of living in a Nazi and Japan-occupied America. And more relevant to the subject of this post, Faisal Tehrani’s 1515 explores the question, what if Malacca had defeated the Portuguese invasion in 1511.
The novel 1515 (first published in 2003) can be a little bit confusing because there are multiple storylines of the same characters that run parallel to each other. It is almost like employing a parallel universe trick as a device, but it is not. If I could attempt to describe the novel succinctly (and if I understood it properly), 1515 is a story of two what-ifs on top of actual history arising from the main character’s bouts of amnesia.
One case of what-if has Malacca fantastically ending up conquering Portugal. That brings my mind to a game where that is possible: Europa Universalis IV. But that possibility requires an expert with deep knowledge of the game’s mechanics as defeating Portugal as Malacca is not easy. I suspect only playing a Native America tribe or any southern African nation is harder than playing a Southeast Asia civilization in that game.
It is a game but Europa Universalis IV tries to simulate history as closely as possible within its own rational logic. In contrast, 1515 requires a heavy dose of magical realism to enable Malacca win the 1511 battles and then to invade Portugal successfully on the other side of the planet. In Faisal Tehrani’s novel, Malacca wins because its military leaders could fly with krises in hand and with Koranic verses incanted as shield against Portuguese bullets.
That reminds me of the feeling I had while reading Salman Rushdie’s Victory City. But maybe that comparison is inappropriate because Rushdie’s magic has a more comprehensively big role in its world: a great city gets made instantly out of the ground with deities interacting with humans directly. That kind of magic. This is unlike 1515 where its magic is more down to earth and less all-encompassing.
Maybe, in terms of the casualness of magic, the magic in 1515 is more akin to Ang Lee’s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. It is the flying kung fu type of superhuman feats, with a tiny dose of One Hundred Years of Solitude.
I use the term magic here but maybe I mean something else altogether. But magic is never really the point of the novel and that is something other people have written about earlier.
The internet was supposed to be a wonderfully liberating medium. A force for good that equalized power by circumventing gatekeepers of all kinds: information wanted to be free. Almost all internet-based companies was a social crusader out to right some wrong when it all started back in the day. Google’s motto was ‘Don’t be evil’. That was the promise of the late 1990s and the early 2000s when the internet was still new in its anarchic stage where almost everybody competed to do good. Nobody online had market power.
But anarchy is always a transient state. By the mid-2010s, it is clear many had placed too much hope on what is a tool that could either improve or hurt society. And that tool increasingly has been used to drag society towards worse equilibria.
For some time now, the internet is a shitty place to be in. We cannot live without it but we are miserable with it. More than anything, the internet collectively has inverted its promise. The cyberspace is now a surveillance tool masquerading as a crack designed to advertize and sell everything.
Enshittification by Cory Doctorow is a 2025 book that attempts to explain how we got here. The term enshittification as Doctorow defines it is a process of internet platform decay from the perspective of its users.
The concept itself could be used to describe other services off the internet although these days the internet has proliferated everywhere that it is not helpful to make the online/offline distinction anymore, as much as it is unhelpful to call any company a tech company. If Grab a tech company, or just a transport company? Is Stashaway a tech company, or just a financial service provider company? Is Amazon an internet and tech company, or just a retail platform?
The enshittification process
Enshittification is a 3-stage process.
It starts with platform operators (Twitter/X, Facebook, Amazon or Google etc), being good to everybody and that means generating massive consumer surplus to individual users. This is stage 1 (the so-called be good to users stage).
Once the number of users hits critical mass, stage 2 (the abuse users for businesses stage) begins with the platform treating individual users badly in order to attract business users. The bad treatment generally include targeted and intrusive advertisements utilizing personal and private data tracked by within the platform and elsewhere too. Here, the platform operators are draining consumer surplus and redirecting it to sellers. As a result, businesses flock to the platforms. Individual users feel and understand the abuse but most of them could not leave the platform because their social network is already entrenched on the platform. Only the determined would exit and seek social interactions via other means.
Stage 3 (the stage of abuse businesses for the platform) is when there is enough business users around with the platform becoming the essential marketplace where all the businesses’ customers are. To exit the platform is to lose a chuck of customers and revenue. Platform operators then proceed to treat businesses badly by draining producer surplus towards themselves. This is done via various platform fees and advertisement requirement (pay to be seen or we place your product on page 999 instead of page 1). At times, the platform itself competes with its business client by cloning the business and placing its products above the clients (similar to the cheatings that happened in various stock exchanges as told in Michael Lewis’s The Flash Boys). There are various details in the book showing that much of the advertisement is fraudulent (paying for ads that do not really exist or ads with no noticeable effects on earnings) but businesses could find no way to hold the platform accountable. And the fees are pure rentseeking and structured in a way that prevent businesses from selling elsewhere (and if businesses do sell outside, they are forced make it more expensive).
The end result is that everybody except the platform operators gets stuck in a shitty environment where most producer and consumer surpluses get channeled to the platforms.
For all the technological advancement we have seen in the past 2 or 3 decades, in the end, the whole internet gets boiled down to an age-old phenomenon: the middle men abusing their (dominant) position.
Generalizing an old competition problem
In many ways, enshittification appears to be the new term to describe an old problem reappearing in the digital world. It is an old-known problem in competition or anti-trust where the dominant player abuses his or her position to extract surpluses from consumers. It is what a monopolist/oligopolist does.
First, you dump into the market to kill off all competitors and once monopoly power is established, you engage in predatory pricing. In Malaysia, we have witnessed this with Grab that now charges exorbitant fares after all its effective competitors have been driven off the road due to aggressive discounts in the early days of the service.
When Doctorow offers a way out, the solutions he gives are more competition in the market along with more rigorous anti-trust actions by the state and greater labor power through unionization.
These are the typical suggestions against monopolistic power but of course, the difference between textbook solutions and the problems outlined by Doctorow is that the technological, political and regulatory challenges in the real world are many times more complex than what discussed in a competition university classes. Internet monopolists are more technologically competent than the regulators, which makes running anti-trust policy more difficult to execute when compared to more traditional sectors like aviation or steelmaking. Many times too, regulators do get captured by the monopolists.
An old condition in a new world: technofeudalism
All those platform fees are simply rent with another name.
The rise of rentseeking as a major source of revenue from internet giants causes Doctorow to digress and borrow Yanis Varoufakis’s concept of technofeudalism, explained in his 2023 book Technofeudalism.
It is a neologism describing a condition where an increasing portion of revenue gets derived from rent (revenue arising from just controlling some assets/resources) instead of profits (revenue arising from productive activities minus the cost of running those activites). Varoufakis insists this represents a new kind of economic condition more akin to feudalism where long ago, landlords exacted rents from the working peasants who largely had no other choice but to work as farmers on someone’s else land. The peasants had to pay rent in various form to the landlords, regardless of profitability/harvest. Varoufakis further insists that this is a post-capitalism age, as capitalism is less about rent and more about profits.
A major component of enshittification of the internet fits Varoufakis’s framework well. Varoufakis is of course famous for this:
He is also the former finance minister of Greece during the European debt crisis, the former economist for Valve, the owner of the gaming platform Steam and all around leftwing economist.
Gamers should recognize these technofeudal trends quickly, where instead of buying and owning the games, they have to pay for subscription to play. There are also microtransactions (the worst of it, pay-to-win), which I would take as a subset of this trend.
But internet platforms are not the only guilty parties. Subscription-based model is proliferating in other sectors. In Malaysia, Perodua is selling its electric vehicles but with the battery must be rented from the manufacturers. Battery-as-a-service, as it is called. And then there is the more established term: software-as-a-service. SaaS is the ultimate example of technofeudalism; SaaS is a fancy term for rent-based businesses.
Electronic locks and anti-circumvention law
Central to much of the rentier tech economy (tech is a very loose term here) is the cover provided by a defective but mainstream intellectual property law.
Instead of copyrighting a new way of doing things productively, companies are copyrighting electronic locks to various machines (computers, printers, cars, etc) that should be open in the first place. Since the lock is copyrighted, hacking or breaking the them amounts to a crime while using the machines itself in whatever way mostly is not.
For example, a printer should be able to use third-party ink cartridges but the printer manufacturing prevents so by introducing an electronic lock. The lock allows only the use of the manufacturer’s own cartridges. Without the electronic lock, any ink with the right configuration would work with the printer. In fact, the use of any ink for the printer you own is not illegal. But the lock itself is copyrighted and breaking the lock is a crime. The protection for the electronic locks is the anti-circumvention law.
Because of this, the manufacturer, upon selling a printer, gets to enjoy repeat business through future ink purchases. And this is a rent and the law protects rents while stifling innovation instead of protecting intellectual property in order to encourage innovation.
Printers and cartridges are simple and maybe petty examples. But if you start to think about your smartphones and the restrictions its manufacturers impose on the users (famously, this is Apple), then the whole thing starts to become a more serious matter.
And one of the solution Doctorow proposes to fight technofeudalism, and rentiers in general, is to reform intellectual property law so that it returns to its original purpose: encouraging innovation.
No longer a curiosity: first degree price discrimination
Finally, I want to visit a section of the book that discusses the ability to track customers through all the private and personal data collected and sold by internet platforms through apps and in general, cookies everywhere, along with the ability to change prices dynamically/instantaneously based on those data due to the availability of electronic price display connected to the clouds.
Imagine two persons visiting an aisle just minutes apart. The first person would see a set of price different from the second person, because the retailers now have the technology to know a specific person’s preference (the tracking is so precise that you would think the apps are listening to you) and change prices based on that preference. By the way, this is already happening online where changing any price is a technological a trivial thing.
This is first degree price discrimination, where the seller is able to discriminate individual customers so effectively and completely that all consumer surplus gets extracted.
The concept itself is not at all new but 20 years ago when I was an economics undergraduate, such a thing was taken a did-you-know theory but with impossible application in the real world. It was a curiosity much like how the demand curve could slope upward. Today, it is not just a possibility. First degree price discrimination is becoming common and in all likelihood, the standard way of pricing if no regulation is forthcoming.
Perhaps this is the point of overly long book review: rapid technological advancement in the past 10 or 20 years is forcing a rethink of what we know of the world.
It is natural to make a list of countries one has visited before. Sometimes, that list comes in the form of emoji of flags. Sometimes, it comes in the form of map with the countries visited highlighted.
But is the list truly accurate? Have you really been to Russia if all you have visited was Moscow? The United States but just New York? India but just New Delhi? Japan but just Tokyo? Indonesia but just Jakarta? Malaysia but just the Twin Towers? Singapore but just… (okay maybe not all countries).
Indonesia is a massive country and I can say I have been to more than just Jakarta. Yet most places I have been are on the island of Java. There are Batam, Bintan, Bali and others but these places could not tell you about Indonesia in totality. To truly understand a place, one has to read its literature, history, newspapers and maybe, travelogues.
It is in that spirit that I picked up Elizabeth Pisani’s Indonesia Etc. Having worked in the country and travelled extensively still all over the places, she reveals just how diverse the Indonesia is. So much so that one of several threads running through the 400-odd pages is the idea how Jakarta or Java could feel like a foreign country to many living outside of the Javanese sphere, especially in the outer islands such as the Lesser Sunda Islands or places like Maluku.
I suppose any capital of a sufficiently-sized country can feel like a foreign country to those who do not live in the city. It is true even for Kuala Lumpur with its modern cosmopolitan outlook that contrasts sharply with life on the peninsular East Coast or the interior of Sabah. But Indonesia is truly big that the definition of foreignness gets on to another level.
Just as Jakarta is foreign to the outer islands, so too the outer islands to Jakarta and more so to foreigners like me. Here is where place-description pulls me into the book. Indonesia is just such a place where place-writing can go on and on and you would never get bored out of it.
But the breadth of the travels comes at cost: the book can feel disjointed and sometimes, superficial. As I progressed farther along the book, I had the feeling that it was written for white tourists, or maybe for white expatriates. As a person with deep roots in the region, by the time I finished reading the book, I found myself dissatisfied. I found myself wanting more details on localized history, politics and society.
To explore this argument further, the depth is uneven as the author attempts to cover as many places as possible. But when there is depth, it is great. I love the details of Sumba’s gifting culture and Pisani’s own thoughts on how it is a form of social insurance and how it has evolved into more of a debt system than gifting. Or how the way people enjoy wayang kulit has changed as the puppet masters shifted from flickering candlelight or flame to much brighter electric bulbs.
The unevenness of the depth is no fault of the author however. Indonesia is a big country and to write with all the breadth and depth, it would probably take a lifetime or at the very least, thicker than the tomb that is David Van Reybrouck’s Revolusi (which is an excellent read).
Revolusi inspects Indonesia’s turbulent independence period of the 1940s. Pasani’s meanwhile is a travelogue, a window to a specific period of history: a post-reformasi era during rapid decentralization and perhaps, a more optimistic country 10 or 15 years ago.
