We are rapidly moving toward a datafied world where our social activities are routinely transformed into machine-readable data.1 Indeed, digital platforms today are capable of datafying more and more “subjects, objects, and practices”2 – converting not only Facebook “likes” into social relationship profiles and shopping patterns into marketable records, but also other real-life events that were formerly unstorable into data. Increasingly, the term “datafication” is associated with platformization, which has been framed in the context of the penetration and influence of digital platforms.3 Taken as a whole, nearly every aspect of our daily actions is being constantly and systematically harvested, turned into digital data, scaled and analyzed in real time, stored for the long term, aggregated, and sold. This is the phenomenon we are facing; it is growing, and we do not really know where it will lead us next.

Broadband infrastructure is the prerequisite that enables people to meaningfully participate in the data-driven economy, as well as to put to good use the “beauty” of datafication. Developing countries and LDCs need FDI to build their digital infrastructures. However, the economic benefit of the GATS Mode 3 market access commitments in the telecommunications sector has never been realized in many states. In this context, from Mexico – Telecom to Brazil – Taxation, the mere fact that the responding parties must have attempted to stretch the scope of the “universal services” or “public morals” to justify their digital inclusion policies within the WTO indicates that the interplay between international economic law and digital inequality invites further reflection. The pressing task for trade negotiators is to find the common ground necessary to balance digital trade liberalization and development needs, rather than creating another “Digital ‘Haves’ Trade Agreement.” One policy direction discussed in Chapter 1 is to impose obligations on big tech companies to contribute their fair share to universal service funds needed for infrastructure upgrades. Such a reform, of course, should be implemented in a transparent, nondiscriminatory, and competitively neutral manner, as required by the Telecom Reference Paper.

Media platformization has caused problems that a state cannot easily regulate. The media content regulations considered in Chapter 4 are prime examples demonstrating the need to alter the power distribution in the Internet ecosystem. In terms of speech platforms, the “rules-based” platform governance model led by the EU, such as the DSA, now represents a strong power in balancing the US’ CDA-based social media self-regulation. The years to come will be critical to the global governance of digital platforms. Key indicators include whether more and more countries will adopt DSA-like regulations along the EU regulatory path. In terms of streaming services, the content quotas for video streaming platforms may constitute performance requirements for investment in services. This measure may also violate the obligations that apply to the nondiscriminatory treatment of digital products. Looking ahead, cultural diversity concerns regarding avatars in the VR space will be even more complex and will propel the “trade v. culture” clash to another level. No matter how carefully crafted, media content regulation must face enforceable reality. Trade rules that ban local presence would enable platform companies to supply services without establishing a local presence, which could significantly constrain a state’s ability to enforce platform regulations.

The question of how to balance free data flows and national policy objectives, especially data privacy and security, is key to advancing the benefits of the digital economy. After establishing that new digital technologies have further integrated physical and digital activities, and thus, more and more of our social interactions are being sensed and datafied, Chapter 6 argues that innovative regulatory approaches are needed to respond to the impact of big data analytics on existing privacy and cybersecurity regimes. At the crossroads, where multistakeholderism meets multilateralism, the roles of the public and private sectors should be reconfigured for a datafied world. Looking to the future, rapid technological developments and market changes call for further public–private convergence in data governance, allowing both public authorities and private actors to jointly reshape the norms of cross-border data flows. Under such an umbrella, the appropriate role of multilateral, state-based norm-setting in Internet governance includes the oversight of the balance between the free flow of data and other legitimate public policies, as well as engagement in the coordination of international standards.

Along the path of datafication, the probability of cyberattacks against critical infrastructure increases as well. The weaponization of 5G networks has brought about further challenges to international economic legal order. Major geopolitical players have adopted comprehensive security measures at home and have also strengthened cooperation with geopolitical allies to protect and enhance the resilience of ICT ecosystems. In this regard, the more recent iterations of international trade agreements are equipped with “modernized” security exceptions to ensure that the exceptions to international trade rules are aligned with the policy needs of the data-driven economy. Innovative exception clauses have been incorporated into FTAs to reconcile conflicts between (digital) trade and (cyber) security, which, overall, grant a dramatically expansive scope and excessively unfettered discretion to states when it comes to “national security.” Questions as to what constitutes “critical infrastructure” and how it should be designated, however, require due process mechanisms to constrain discretionary abuse. Chapter 2 contends that a consensus concerning the scope of “critical infrastructure” would be politically and economically valuable to filter out overgeneralizations of national security claims.

Today’s platformization of services was an “unforeseen” phenomenon when the WTO was established. However, through the pro-liberalization WTO jurisprudence developed in past decades, the GATS market access commitments have played more than a marginal role in the story of the emergence of datafication, leaving the door open for big tech companies. Without question, platforms’ associated datafication practices influence human society, in terms of their beauty as well as their peril. The perilous side therefore calls into question whether international trade commitments negotiated in the pre-digital age should be sustained in this datafied world. In the FTA context, Chapter 3 argues that listing nonconforming measures under the Cross-Border Trade in Services Chapter represents the most critical step in reserving a state’s “digital sovereignty.” Such inscriptions ensure that a state does not risk committing to future services and associated delivery means that did not exist at the time of treaty negotiations. Nonetheless, market access obligations do not prevent states from adopting domestic regulations in pursuit of legitimate national policies. Digital trade liberalization must be accompanied by the introduction of data regulations to address the potential risks and harms.

This chapter situates James Thomson’s “The City of Dreadful Night” in the midst of Victorian debates about psychological automatism, finding in the poem’s vision of mechanical life the materialistic and atheistic consequences to which conservative readers feared that theories like Thomas Huxley’s conscious automatism must lead. Thomson depicts not just the impotence of consciousness; he uses automatism to challenge the very possibility of free will. But while Thomson found in psychological automatism a confirmation of his own pessimism, this chapter notes that others in the 1870s articulated theories of the phenomenon that retained space for an immaterial and efficacious will (and the soul for which it seemed to stand). By considering how Thomson’s poem resonates with one key example of such conservative models, the work of William Carpenter, this chapter ultimately reveals the surprising endurance of an orthodox psychological dualism in the latter part of the nineteenth century.