Newport, Digital minimalism
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I read this, iRoNiCaLlY, as a PDF on my phone. I was seized by a compulsion to read it on Friday afternoon; it wasn’t on the Libraries NI Libby subscription (here’s a secret: Barely Anything Is), so I googled* it as a reminder to take it out physically and found to my amusement that the third result was a direct link to a PDF of the book hosted on archive dot org (god bless america???).
*I don’t actually use Google.
It’s a good book with, satisfyingly, more tangible advice than many in the “technology bad” genre: an effective mix of concrete examples showing why social media companies are ethically unsound, descriptions of pre-digital-age thinkers and the ways they connected with their community and environment, and juicy morsels of human interest. The 30-day “detox” period looked like it could work pretty well, although I didn’t really feel able to apply it myself because I’d already implemented many of the things it suggested. So I guess I was able to interpret this book as validation of my own decisions over the years, and that probably conversely explains why I liked it, because we all love being told we’re doing the right thing. In my case it wasn’t so much a temporary cold turkey experience as a gradual strategic withdrawal from social media, moving from mainstream to smaller platforms and therefore, I think, decreasing the various dopamine hits available to me such that it never felt like a great loss when I removed them entirely. It’s easier to move from a Facebook account with 500 friends to a fediverse account with 20 followers than it is to leave social media completely – but it’s also not that difficult to delete a fediverse account with 20 followers either. In my case this is a process that has been going on, in some form, for around fifteen years, but the outcome is that I feel able to describe myself as someone who “doesn’t have social media”.
There’s something to be said about permacomputing and intentionality, both of which I believe were discussed in the book, and how these intersect with the way people who maintain personal websites should approach the principle of digital minimalism, which wasn’t. I understand that the target audience was the average social media user rather than people who enjoy sshing into the server of an evening. Nonetheless I think there is a need for website maintainers to be reflective in similar ways about the amount of digital junk we accumulate and the ways in which we can lighten our digital footprint – not only in an environmental sense, but also in terms of strengthening personal security, as well as ensuring that what we’re doing has some kind of point to it. I see a lot of “you should have a blog” discourse but few suggestions that there is a need to be purposive in terms of what one actually blogs about. Far too often I come across blogs by people who seem like they could have something intelligent to say, but every post is a variation on “I’ve decided to blog”, “I’ve introduced this new technology into my blogging workflow”, “wow I really ought to blog more often”, “I’ve switched from static site generator one with one hundred dependencies to static site generator two with two hundred dependencies”.
Anyway, I think there’s a need to consider the concept of digital minimalism in a wider sense, linking to broader concerns about sustainability and security beyond the initial “free yourself from the tyranny of the smartphone”-type messaging (rightly) directed at the normies. Here are some arguably digital-minimalist practices that could apply in the personal website realm, and which may explain some recent structural changes on this site:
- Ensuring files on the server are in small formats and deleting those not used.
- Deleting internal and external accounts and services when they have outlived their purpose (rather than abandoning them, surely a security risk).
- Minimising the use of purely aesthetic external links and instead prioritising their use for signalling specific pieces of information.
- Using one’s online presence as a way of facilitating or recording offline activities rather than an end in itself.
There probably aren’t any critical publications about independent personal websites in the same way as there are about big social media platforms, and most of what’s online is understandably very celebratory and earnest. And needless to say it’s the big platforms and their hair-raising moral codes that deserve thorough scrutiny (another book I read recently was Careless people, so, yeah, obviously), but I think some good could be done by reflecting critically on why and how we should use the internet as a hobby space. (Related: if you ever see this site on any blog aggregators please let me know so I can ask to be removed from them.)
n° 1
2026-06-16
I came across this post on Bubbles. It's a new aggregator for the indieweb which I found to be very interesting. Curious to hear your thoughts about why you are against aggregators.
reply: Thanks for letting me know – my site was removed from that aggregator in April after I requested it. It’s now been removed for the second time, and hopefully the last!
I have nothing against aggregators in a general sense. I think a lot of people probably want their sites to be indexed by aggregators, so I’m glad those people get what they want. In my case I want the opposite. I didn’t realise this was the case until I found my site listed on a couple of aggregators and discovered that my instinctive reaction to this was negative. Needless to say it can be hard to know why we react to certain situations in these instinctive ways, but having tried to work out exactly what I don’t like about having my site indexed by this sort of service, three (somewhat interrelated) things have come to mind. These are based on the experience of finding my site indexed by Bubbles specifically, so depending on how other aggregators operate, these points wouldn’t be relevant in all cases.
First, the way Bubbles works is by fetching every item from a site’s RSS feed. I don’t have a specific feed for my blog, so in this case it’s been fetching posts from my general RSS feed, which includes one-line descriptions of sometimes very minor site updates. I don’t think this is the kind of thing people want to see on a blog aggregator, and I don’t want my site to gain a reputation for low-quality spammy updates based on the syndication of those updates to a context that they weren’t intended for.
Second, I’m not a fan of the fact that Bubbles uses quantitative metrics to describe the sites it indexes. I understand that the upvote mechanism is a way of deprioritising the low-quality spammy updates that I’ve just described, but I dislike how this results in the assignment of a publicly visible numeric score to my posts. One of the reasons I don’t engage with traditional social media platforms is because of the centrality of numbers quantifying followers, likes etc. and the role of these numbers in driving monetisation, with the well-documented negative effects this causes. Clearly monetisation isn’t a concern in independent personal web spaces, but I still don’t enjoy seeing the influence of the same corporate social media-influenced “big numbers = good” mentality.
Finally, I suppose if we take my dislike of being included on blog aggregators to its logical extremes, we could argue that I should similarly dislike having my site linked to by third parties at all. I think the difference here is in the lack of intentionality (going back to concepts discussed in Digital minimalism). If a human links to one of my posts, it’s presumably because they find the content of that post interesting and want to recommend it to others. Other people can then click on that link knowing that it comes recommended by somebody else – presumably, if they are subscribed to that person’s own blog, someone whose opinions they respect. If a post is linked to merely by virtue of its presence on a blog aggregator, there was on the other hand no intentional decision made to point readers to it, and no inbuilt assurance that the post is worth reading. I imagine the upvote system is supposed to be a way of remedying this, but even then there is no possibility of commentary and we gain no insight into who has recommended the post or why. Moreover, the post is one of hundreds or thousands in a constantly updated, thematically incoherent feed, which surely discourages readers from thoughtful, intentional reading. I don’t particularly want things I write to be read in that context, and I certainly don’t want them to be part of the problem by adding even more content to this huge morass of disparate posts.

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