Netflix’s assortment of young adult dramas are successful to varying degrees — from the creatively superior Sex Education and American Vandal to the passable Insatiable and 13 Reasons Why. The streaming platform’s latest offering, The Society, lands somewhere on the higher side.

It’s a fairly simple story but it still emerges as somewhat victorious in its quest to tell the law vs. anarchy trope through the optics of the high school graduates left alone in a town that resembles their own. 

The teenagers of West Ham, a town plagued by a mysterious smell, return home from a school trip cut drastically short. When they return, they have their lavish homes and cars, but what’s missing are their parents, pets, and basically any other human beings. Even that pesky smell is gone. 

These kids have no idea if they’re in the same town they grew up in or if it’s an exact replica of it somewhere else. They’re in a weird solitary confinement because there’s no way of getting out, and worse, no internet. 

The Society clearly borrows elements from established pop culture pillars like Lost. But while that spent a good amount of time trying to solve the mystery at its core, The Society only glosses over it sporadically at least until the end, leaning instead into a modern version of Lord of the Flies.

Cassandra Pressman (Rachel Keller) steps up as a leader when everyone goes into chaotic descent upon realizing they’re stuck here by themselves. She aims to form a temporary socialist society and is supported by her sister Allie (Kathryn Newton), who has always lived under Cassandra’s shadow. 

The first few episodes are laden with twists, some so crucial they change the entire nature of the story you thought you were seeing. A major unexpected curveball in episode 3 elevates The Society and most of its characters heavily, especially Allie. As she finds her footing in these uncertain times, so does Newton, who melds more into her role with every passing episode. 

Allie and Cassandra become the rational focal point of the town as they try to figure out how tough of a leader to be. It taps into Ralph’s story from Lord of the Flies because his motivation is also to rebuild civilization after being stranded on that island by maintaining order. They’re all too moral for their own good. 

In the case of The Society, this makes Allie and Cassandra overbearing at times even though they’re on the right side.

What drags out the most is the story of villainous Campbell and his abusive attitude towards girlfriend Elle. While we don’t ever see the abuse happen, we know it is happening. Their story takes some unnecessary turns, especially towards the end, but it makes for a great slow-build thrilling scene in episode 8, “Poison.” 

Luckily, the show does an excellent job of transforming supporting characters who seemed unimportant into series MVP’s. It helps balance out the story when the protagonists and antagonists (especially Campbell, ugh) bog the show down with their extremes.

They provide this hardened coming-of-age tale some heart, mostly in the form of characters like Grizz, a closeted jock in charge of leading a hunting party to find more land. His vulnerabilities come into play as he interacts with his deaf classmate Sam. Kelly (Sierra Burgess is a Loser breakout Kristine Froseth, equally excellent here) is fit to lead but spends her time learning medicine because, uh, these folks have no doctors and one of them is pregnant. She will for sure turn into one your favorites on the show. 

What works most in the favor of The Society is the frustration it builds in a viewer. This is not a complaint, it’s a compliment. Constructing narratives that keep you hooked when they’re not supposed to is not an easy feat. There is so much simmering tension that boils over in startling ways, like in episode 5 when Allie has to make a shocking life-or-death decision.

The Society also doubles as a metaphor for the current world in multiple ways. This country is debating the importance of a socialism vs. capitalism, which mirrors how the rich kids here led by Campbell and Harry don’t want to give up their perks to those in need of them to survive. The show also dives deep into the dangers of mob mentality and what it means to trick the crowd with lies — a concept that comes into play majorly in the show’s final twists. 

It sends subdued but strong messages with these themes, going against expectations of what you think will happen. There isn’t enough outlandish trouble from the kids, who could essentially spend their time partying like the Riverdale teens (who actually have adult supervision!). The Society makes you believe these young adults are mature enough to handle the massive stress of their situation. Well, most of them anyway.

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It’s a straight-shooter of a show with a clear angle for where it wants to go. It’s addictive to a degree, making it the perfect binge. What more could you want from a campy YA drama, anyway? It ends with several cliffhangers, both good and bad, which makes me positive that a second season is on the cards. 

The Society Season 1 is now streaming on Netflix. 

Uber’s business model is incredibly simple: It’s a platform that facilitates exchanges between people. And Uber’s been incredibly successful at it, almost eliminating the transaction costs of doing business in everything from shuttling people around town to delivering food.

This is one of the reasons Uber will soon be among the most valuable companies in the world after its shares began trading on the New York Stock Exchange on May 10.

Yet its expected $82.4 billion market capitalization may pale in comparison to the wealth of user data it’s accumulating. If you use Uber – or perhaps even if you don’t – it knows a treasure trove of data about you, including your location, gender, spending history, contacts, phone battery level and even whether you’re on the way home from a one-night stand. It may soon know whether you’re drunk or not.

While that’s scary enough, combine all that data with Uber’s expertise at analyzing it through the lens of behavioral science and you have a dangerous potential to exploit users for profit.

Uber’s hardly alone. Our research shows the biggest digital platforms – Airbnb, Facebook, eBay and others – are collecting so much data on how we live, that they already have the capability to manipulate their users on a grand scale. They can predict behavior and influence our decisions on where to click, share and spend.

While most platforms aren’t using all these capabilities yet, manipulation through behavioral psychology techniques can occur quietly and leave little trace. If we don’t establish rules of the road now, it’ll be much harder to detect and stop later.

‘Choice architecture’

A platform can be any space that facilitates transactions between buyers and sellers. Traditional examples include flea markets and trading floors.

A digital platform serves the same purpose but gives the owner the ability to “mediate” its users while they’re using it – and often when they’re not. By that we mean it can observe and learn an incredible amount of information about user behavior in order to perfect what behavioral scientists call “choice architectures,” inconspicuous design elements intended to influence human behavior through how decisions are presented.

For example, Uber has experimented with its drivers to determine the most effective strategies for keeping them on the road as long as possible. These strategies include playing into cognitive biases such as loss aversion and overestimating low probability events, even if a driver is barely earning enough money to make it worth her while. Drivers end up like gamblers at a casino, urged to play just a little longer despite the odds.

Uber didn’t immediately respond to a request for comment.

Airbnb also experiments with its users. It has used behavioral science to get hosts to lower their rates and accept bookings without screening guests – which creates real risks for hosts, particularly when they are sharing their own apartment.

While these examples seem relatively benign, they demonstrate how digital platforms are able to quietly design systems to direct users’ actions in potentially manipulative ways.

And as platforms grow, they only become better choice architects. With its IPO’s huge influx of investor money to fund more data and behavioral science, Uber could move into dangerously unethical territory – easy to imagine given its past practices.

For example, if the app recognizes that you are drunk or in a neighborhood you rarely travel to – and one that its data show is high in crime – it could charge you a higher rate, knowing you’re unlikely to refuse.

Legal challenges

And it’s not all speculation.

In an effort to deceive law enforcement trying to investigate the company, Uber actually found a way to identify government regulators trying to use its app and then prevented them from getting rides.

That’s one reason lawmakers and regulators have been discussing the difficult, interrelated roles of behavioral science and tech for years. And some companies, Uber in particular, have been investigated for a host of bad business practices, from discrimination to misusing user data.

But most of the manipulation we’ve identified and worry about is not expressly illegal. And because regulators are often unable to keep pace with the ever-evolving use of technology and choice architecture, that’s likely to remain so.

Given the absence of well-defined and enforceable legal guardrails, platform companies’ propensity to exploit behavioral science at users’ expense will remain largely unchecked.

An ethical code

One solution, in our view, is establishing an ethical code for platform companies to follow. And if they don’t adopt it willingly, investors, employees and users could demand it.

Since the mid-20th century, written codes of ethical conduct have been a staple of U.S. companies. The legal and medical professions have relied on them for millennia. And research suggests they are effective at encouraging ethical behavior at companies.

We reviewed hundreds of ethical codes, including ones targeted at tech and computing companies. Based on our research, we urge digital platforms to adopt five ethical guidelines:

1. All choice architecture employed on a platform should be fully transparent. Platforms should disclose when they are using the tools of behavioral science to influence user behavior

2. Users should be able to make choices on the platform freely and easily, and choice architects should limit behavioral interventions to reminders or prompts that are the least harmful to user autonomy

3. Platforms should avoid “nudging” users in ways that exploit unconscious and irrational decision making based on impulse and emotion. New research shows that transparent choice architecture can work just as well

4. Platforms should recognize the power they possess and take care not to exploit the markets they’ve created, including by abusing information asymmetries between themselves and users or opposing reasonable regulations

5. Platforms should avoid using choice architecture that discourages users from acting in their own best interests. As Nobel Prize-winning behavioral economist Richard Thaler put it, we should only “nudge for good.”

Big tech and behavioral science are now integrated in ways that are making companies wildly successful, from buzzing toothbrushes that make cleaning your teeth seem rewarding to using texts to nudge poorer mothers to use health care.

While the results can significantly enhance our lives, it also makes it easier than ever for companies to manipulate users to enhance their bottom lines.

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This article originally published at The Conversation
here

In a television environment that includes shows like Bob’s Burgers, Rick and Morty, and Bojack Horseman, it’s impossible to argue that cartoons are just for children. The medium of animation has always been about using art to further creativity in storytelling, and it’s increasingly clear that the freedom and whimsy of animated shows are valuable tools that, in the right hands, enhance the message of their creators. 

Tuca & Bertie on Netflix is one of those shows that uses the wackiness of its premise and animation to effectively portray the instability of its characters’ lives. Tuca is an irresponsible toucan whose overconfidence and codependence are only just starting to affect her carefree lifestyle. Bertie is an uptight, loving songbird whose anxiety issues make it difficult for her to achieve her goals. They live in Bird Town, a city populated by bird-people, plant people, and other animal-people, and are trying to figure out their lives in a place where cartoonish happenstances are commonplace.

The first few episodes are capital-W Weird, and feature scenarios like a topless houseplant hoarding turtles and a sentient cake baked with human remains. In other shows the wacky tone might settle after a few episodes, but Tuca & Bertie piles on the absurdity even more as the show goes on, as musical numbers break out of nowhere and story asides are told through live-action puppet sequences.

SEE ALSO: Missing ‘Rick and Morty’ or ‘Bojack’? Try HBO’s hysterically offbeat ‘Animals’

What does change over the course of its ten episode season is the depth to which the characters are explored. Bertie’s anxious quirks first appear to be surface traits but eventually manifest as debilitating panic attacks and Tuca’s YOLO attitude is revealed to come from understandable childhood insecurity. They might be 30-year-old birds in a cartoon world, but they’re also wonderfully written, three-dimensional women whose friendship and issues are complicated and heartbreakingly realistic. 

As the characters grow in depth and the world of Bird Town remains bizarre, the juxtaposition between the story and its format fades. Adulthood is a weird, ever-changing state and so Tuca & Bertie leans in to that weirdness to expose the harsh truths that lie underneath every life’s wacky veneer. Watching Tuca and Bertie navigate through transitional moments in their lives as cartoon chaos explodes around them feels more real in a lot of ways than any live-action, glossy interpretation of their characters would be. It’s an impressive feat of writing in any format, but Tuca & Bertie is clever enough to use its medium to make a great point, and an even greater show.

Tuca & Bertie is available now on Netflix.