This problem is not only privacy, polarization, or mental health...

The Political Economy of Cognition: stitching the threads, drawing the path (Part 5 of 5)

I arrive at the last text of this series with a sense (rare, and useful) of having found a problem whose conceptual architecture is not yet consolidated in the literature, and to which my training allows a singular entry. I want, in this closing, to do three things: make explicit the synthesis that connects the four layers I developed; articulate the relationship between this program of reflection and my doctoral thesis, which has a different object but compatible toolkit; and map four research questions that this synthesis suggests for the medium-term horizon.

The unifying thesis

I will state the thesis as synthetically as possible, and then unpack it.

Vitrinization, the burnout society, the degraded equilibrium of platforms, the transformation of public deliberation by generative AI – all these phenomena are contemporary instances of a single object: the political economy of cognition under personalized choice architectures at scale. The transversal operator that connects all layers is framing.

The intuition is the following. Framing, as Tversky and Kahneman demonstrated in 1981, is the elementary cognitive gesture by which the presentation of a problem produces the preference about the problem. That gesture can operate:

  • At an individual scale – a human interlocutor, a therapist, a laboratory experiment.
  • At an algorithmic scale – the TikTok feed, the Google ranking, the order of search results.
  • At a strategic scale – behavioral advertising that orbits political conflict, electoral microtargeting.
  • At an epistemic scale – the LLM response that summarizes a complex debate, the AI that assists the decision-maker.

At each scale, framing operates with the same formal structure but at radically different magnitudes. A Tversky-Kahneman experiment affects dozens of subjects. A recommendation algorithm operates on billions. An LLM response cuts across millions of queries per day. The magnitude is new; the mechanism, not.

The consequence is that problems that previously seemed to belong to separate domains – individual cognitive biases, institutional design, platform regulation, AI governance – are, in fact, instances of the same problem. And they should be analyzable with a common vocabulary.

How the four layers stitch together

To briefly recapitulate:

The cognitive layer (click to see) establishes the microfoundation. Framing acts on the individual, producing preferences contingent on the mode of presentation. Tversky-Kahneman, and the work I did in my master’s thesis on framing in GMCR applied to the Cocó viaducts conflict, provide the starting point – with the important methodological caveat that elicitation of these preferences is itself subject to framing, configuring a recursion that is part of the method and cannot be eliminated from it.

The strategic layer (click to see) shows how individuals whose preferences depend on presentation produce, in aggregate, collective equilibria. Le Bon, Freud, and Türcke supply the historical lineage of the problem of crowds; Schelling, Festinger, and Akerlof-Kranton supply the modern game-theoretic vocabulary. The result, under the current architecture of platforms, is a Nash equilibrium of mutual exhaustion – vitrinization as the dilemma of the attention commons.

The institutional layer (click to see) shows that the architecture under which these equilibria form is not given by natural law. Castells provides the broad sociological frame, with the network society as a historical construction in dispute; Acemoglu and Johnson, in Power and Progress, show the generic thesis of technological underdetermination; Sunstein, with the notion of sludge, provides the operational instrument. The European DSA, the Australian law of 2024, and the Brazilian Bill 2630/2020 are institutional experiments in progress, whose empirical effects are beginning to be measured.

The algorithmic layer (click to see) shows that the entry of generative AIs adds a new layer of cognitive mediation that acts recursively on the three earlier ones. It amplifies or substitutes for human System 2 (Stiegler as pharmakon); it redistributes productivity unequally (Brynjolfsson, Li, and Raymond); it closes the reflexive training-production-training circuit (Rahwan and team; emerging literature on model collapse); and it calls into question Lévy’s bet on collective intelligence – when the collective comes to include non-human agents, the concept needs to be rediscussed.

The stitching: the four layers form a stack. Each layer constrains the layer above and modifies the layer below. Layer 4 produces content that affects the framing of Layer 1; Layer 1 produces preferences that aggregate into the equilibrium of Layer 2; Layer 2 produces phenomena that motivate interventions in Layer 3; Layer 3 designs the environment in which Layer 4 is trained. The system is closed, and therefore requires systemic analysis.

Why this synthesis is a contribution

There is a piece of literature for each layer. There is little literature – almost none in the lusophone space – that integrates the four. There are books in the philosophy of technique (Stiegler, Han, Türcke, Sibilia), in the political economy of technology (Acemoglu-Johnson, Zuboff), in the sociology of the network society (Castells), in behavioral economics (Thaler-Sunstein, Kahneman, Sunstein-Sibony-Kahneman in Noise), and in applied game theory (Schelling, and more recently the work of Acemoglu-Ozdaglar-Siderius). There is also the technical literature on LLMs and machine behavior (Rahwan and team, Brynjolfsson, the alignment community).

Little of this material talks to itself. Philosophers do not model; modelers do not philosophize. Behavioral economists usually stop at Layer 1; game theorists usually stop at Layer 2; political scientists go to Layer 3 but rarely connect it to the quantitative toolkit of the previous ones. The AI community has its own journals, conferences, and vocabulary, with little interface with the political economy of information.

My position combines a toolkit from game theory (GMCR), behavioral economics (framing effects), agent-based modeling (current focus of the doctorate), concrete institutional experience (Government of Ceará, Mayor’s Office of Fortaleza, UNICEF projects), and active interest in generative AI. It is a rare combination (I think), and I have discovered, writing this series, to be an operative combination. It allows formulating questions that no discipline, in isolation, formulates.

Articulation with the doctoral thesis

I want to be clear about how this series relates to the work I have been developing in the doctorate, because clarity matters.

My thesis, at the School of Economics of the University of Porto, investigates the conditions under which cooperation emerges among cognitively heterogeneous agents in agent-based models. It is a theoretical-methodological problem, not a substantive problem about social networks. It has a defined scope, supervision, schedule, and does not overlap with the object of this series.

But the relationship between the two is precise and fertile. ABM with cognitively heterogeneous agents is exactly the natural toolkit to quantitatively investigate the substantive phenomena this series maps. Schelling, who sustains much of the argument of Layer 2, is the grandfather of the methodology. Vitrinization, seen through the lens of Layer 2, is a problem of emergent cooperation (or its failure) among cognitively heterogeneous agents under a specific incentive architecture – exactly the kind of problem ABM is built to investigate.

The best formulation of the relationship is therefore: the thesis develops the toolkit; this program of reflection maps the substantive domain in which that toolkit can be, in parallel and future research, applied. The two works feed each other – the conceptual clarity gained here orients the methodological choices of the thesis; the technical rigor of the thesis provides the instrument to return to these questions with greater robustness in parallel papers and on the post-doctoral horizon.

Four research questions for the horizon

The four questions I list below are, in my assessment, the most promising for a medium-term research program – not for the current thesis, which has its own scope, but for what comes after and for parallel papers that naturally connect to the toolkit I am consolidating.

Question 1: ABM modeling of the dilemma of the attention commons with cognitively heterogeneous agents.

How does one model, in ABM, the emergence (or non-emergence) of cooperation in environments where agents have different susceptibilities to framing, different weights for social comparison, different bounded-rationality frontiers? Applied to the problem of vitrinization: under what parametric conditions (cognitive heterogeneity, intensity of algorithmic framing, exit cost) does an equilibrium of mutual exhaustion emerge? Which perturbations in the architecture displace the system into other basins of attraction? It is a question that naturally connects the thesis toolkit to the substantive domain of this series, and that could generate a sequence of articles on the post-thesis horizon.

Question 2: Preference elicitation under framing recursion – honest protocols.

Recognizing that the instrument of preference measurement is subject to the same bias it studies, is it possible to design elicitation protocols that internalize this recursion as part of the method? A convincing answer would involve triangulation among direct elicitation, revealed preferences, and experiments with varied framings – and, ideally, formal models of the distortion that the protocol itself introduces. It would be a methodological contribution of interest to all applied work in GMCR and in modeled conflict in general. It has direct affinity with what I learned in the master’s thesis.

Question 3: Algorithmic framing as treatment variable in electoral behavior.

Is it possible to design quasi-experimental studies that isolate the effect of algorithmic framing on electoral behavior? I have a descriptive pilot on the blog itself – the analysis of media sentiment in the 2024 Fortaleza municipal elections. What is missing is moving from description to causal identification. There is starting literature, dominated by studies with privileged access to platform data; the interesting question is what can be done with public Brazilian and Portuguese data, mobilizing observational causal inference (synthetic control, discontinuity in algorithmic changes, instruments through exogenous exposure shocks).

Question 4: Human-AI coupling in political decision-making – experiment.

How does human-AI coupling change the quality of collective decision in conflict problems? More specifically: when a decision-maker consults an LLM to analyze a conflict, does the framing the model produces in its response alter the equilibrium of the conflict? And in which direction – convergence or divergence? Increase or reduction of epistemic diversity?

It is, in my reading, the most original and potentially impactful question. Possible design: an experiment in which real decision-makers solve conflicts modeled in GMCR – or in ABM with humans and AI agents interacting in the same environment – half with LLM assistance and half without, measuring the stability of the equilibrium reached, the quality of deliberation, and the polarization of preferences before and after. It connects Layers 1, 2, and 4 directly, and opens exactly the technical space my thesis is consolidating: ABM with cognitively heterogeneous agents, now extended to include machine agents alongside human agents.

Closing

I began this series trying to name a diffuse unease – a structural fatigue, a vitrinization that seems to define the present. I end it with a conceptual architecture and a parallel research program.

What happened in the middle was the realization, which I consider useful, that we are not facing separate problems – privacy, polarization, digital mental health, automation, AI governance. We are facing manifestations of a unified problem: how societies organize, govern, distribute, and dispute the collective cognitive resource, given the mediation technologies currently available.

This problem is old at heart. It is in Plato on writing, in Le Bon on crowds, in Marx on alienation, in Adorno on the culture industry. But it takes a specific form in this decade, with specific instruments and at a specific scale. To think it well requires a vocabulary still being built, and quantitative tools still being developed – including the toolkit I am consolidating, in another front, in my thesis.

I hope this series has been a small contribution to that construction. And that it orients, in the coming years, both the doctoral work in progress and the parallel and subsequent agenda this reflection has made visible to me. I found the axis. Now it is work.

Deoclécio Paiva de Castro

Ph.D. Candidate in Economics, Faculty of Economics, University of Porto
M.Sc. in Mathematical Modeling and Quantitative Methods, UFC
B.Sc. in Industrial / Production Engineering


References

ACEMOGLU, D.; JOHNSON, S. Power and Progress: Our Thousand-Year Struggle Over Technology and Prosperity. New York: Public Affairs, 2023.

ACEMOGLU, D.; OZDAGLAR, A.; SIDERIUS, J. “A Model of Online Misinformation”. Review of Economic Studies, 2024.

AKERLOF, G. A.; KRANTON, R. E. Identity Economics: How Our Identities Shape Our Work, Wages, and Well-Being. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2010.

BRYNJOLFSSON, E.; LI, D.; RAYMOND, L. R. “Generative AI at Work”. Quarterly Journal of Economics, vol. 140, no. 2, 2025.

CASTELLS, M. The Rise of the Network Society. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. [First edition: 1996.]

CASTRO, D. P. Efeito de Enquadramento no Modelo de Grafos para Resolução de Conflitos com uma Aplicação ao Conflito das Obras de Construção dos Viadutos do Cocó [Framing Effect in the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution with an Application to the Cocó Viaducts Construction Works]. Master’s thesis – Federal University of Ceará, Fortaleza, 2022.

CASTRO, D. P. “Cinturão Digital do Ceará e as mídias digitais” [The Ceará Digital Belt and Digital Media]. Proceedings of Social Media Brasil 2011, Fecomercio, São Paulo, 2011.

CASTRO, D. P. Posts on ChatGPT o1, AI, and electoral analysis. deocleciocastro.com, 2024.

FREUD, S. Civilization and Its Discontents. New York: W. W. Norton, 2010. [Original German: 1930.]

HAN, B.-C. The Burnout Society. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2015.

HIPEL, K. W.; KILGOUR, D. M.; FANG, L. Conflict Resolution Using the Graph Model: Strategic Interactions in Competition and Cooperation. Cham: Springer, 2018.

KAHNEMAN, D. Thinking, Fast and Slow. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011.

LE BON, G. The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind. Mineola: Dover, 2002. [Original French: 1895.]

LÉVY, P. Collective Intelligence: Mankind’s Emerging World in Cyberspace. New York: Plenum, 1997. [Original French: 1994.]

RAHWAN, I. et al. “Machine Behaviour”. Nature, vol. 568, pp. 477-486, 2019.

SCHELLING, T. C. Micromotives and Macrobehavior. New York: W. W. Norton, 1978.

SHUMAILOV, I. et al. “AI Models Collapse When Trained on Recursively Generated Data”. Nature, vol. 631, pp. 755-759, 2024.

SIBILIA, P. O Show do Eu: a intimidade como espetáculo [The Spectacle of the Self: intimacy as spectacle]. Rio de Janeiro: Nova Fronteira, 2008.

STIEGLER, B. Symbolic Misery, Volume 1: The Hyperindustrial Epoch. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2014.

SUNSTEIN, C. R.; SIBONY, O.; KAHNEMAN, D. Noise: A Flaw in Human Judgment. New York: Little, Brown, 2021.

TÜRCKE, C. Erregte Gesellschaft: Philosophie der Sensation. Munich: C. H. Beck, 2002.

TVERSKY, A.; KAHNEMAN, D. “The Framing of Decisions and the Psychology of Choice”. Science, vol. 211, no. 4481, pp. 453-458, 1981.

ZUBOFF, S. The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power. New York: Public Affairs, 2019.

What happens to human thought when the machine starts thinking with us?

Generative AI as Pharmakon: cognitive offloading and the reflexive circuit (Part 4 of 5)

In October 2024, I wrote on this blog two texts (Text 1 and Text 2) about ChatGPT o1 – one of the first models broadly released by OpenAI to make explicit a reasoning architecture, designed to spend more time processing before responding. The argument I defended in those texts is that this transition was ontologically different from the previous ones: for the first time, an AI system implemented something that seemed analogous to the System 2 of Kahneman’s cognitive architecture – slow, deliberative, controlled, costly reasoning, distinguished from the fast, automatic, intuitive System 1.

About a year and a half later, with o3, Claude with extended thinking, Gemini 2.5, and similar… all with reasoning architecture… what seemed a technical curiosity has become standard. And the more interesting question is no longer “does AI have System 2?”. It is: what happens to human System 2 when the System 2 of machines is broadly available?

That question is at the center of this text, and the reason generative AI must enter the conceptual architecture I have been building. It is not just one more technology on the list of things to regulate. It is a new layer of cognitive mediation that acts recursively on the three earlier layers – the cognitive, the strategic, and the institutional.

Stiegler’s pharmakon applied to AI

Bernard Stiegler, the French philosopher who died in 2020, recovered from the Greek tradition the concept of pharmakon: that which is simultaneously remedy and poison, depending on dose and use. Socrates, in Phaedrus, described writing as a pharmakon – both promise of memory and threat to memory. Stiegler extended the concept to all technique: television is pharmakon, networks are pharmakon, and now generative AIs are pharmakon.

The category is useful precisely because it refuses both naïve enthusiasm and apocalyptic refusal. The point is not to decide whether AI is “good” or “bad”. The point is to identify under what configurations it operates as remedy and under what configurations it operates as poison. The configuration is not a property of the model; it is a property of the institutional environment that surrounds its use.

I will develop three overlapping effects of generative AI in this layer – productivity, offloading, and reflexivity – and in each I will show the pharmakon duality.

First effect: redistributed productivity

Erik Brynjolfsson, Danielle Li, and Lindsey Raymond published in 2025, in the Quarterly Journal of Economics, perhaps the most solid empirical study on the impact of generative AI on work. They measured the use of an AI-based assistant in a call center with more than five thousand agents over the course of about a year. The central result: around 15% increase in average productivity.

The most interesting detail, however, is the distribution. The gain was not uniform. Novice agents jumped to performance levels close to those of experienced agents; experienced agents improved little. Generative AI, in that application, compressed the hierarchy of human capability – it codified the tacit knowledge of veterans and transferred it, via interface, to novices.

Seen from the remedy side: democratization of cognitive capacity, reduction of productivity inequality among workers. Seen from the poison side: erosion of the value of traditional markers of human capital – years of experience, prolonged training, accumulated expertise – with serious implications for social mobility and career structure. Which side prevails depends entirely on how we redistribute the gains. An institutional question, not a technological one.

Acemoglu and Johnson, in Power and Progress, articulate the choice most sharply: AI can be used to automate (substitute human labor) or to augment (complement human labor). The choice between these trajectories is political. The current trajectory – strongly automating, strongly concentrating gains among those who hold the models – is not technological destiny.

Second effect: cognitive offloading

Evan Risko and Sam Gilbert published in 2016, in Trends in Cognitive Sciences, an influential synthesis on cognitive offloading – the use of external means (paper, calculator, smartphone, now AI) to perform part of the cognitive work that was previously done internally. The literature shows two things: offloading is rational individually, in most contexts; and offloading may atrophy the underlying cognitive capacity in the long run, especially if used preventively rather than selectively.

Here Nicholas Carr, in The Shallows (2010) on the effect of the internet on concentration, meets Stiegler. Generative AI can amplify human System 2: someone thinks better with a sophisticated synthetic interlocutor, formulates hypotheses, receives counter-arguments, refines. Or it can substitute for System 2: someone ceases to think because the AI thinks for them, and gradually loses the ability to think.

The decisive question is which configuration prevails. And here too there is no purely technological answer. It depends on pedagogy, product design, user incentives, AI literacy. Models that show their reasoning may teach reasoning; models that deliver only the answer may teach not to reason. The difference is not in the underlying model – it is in how it is presented and used.

Third effect: the reflexive circuit and collective intelligence revisited

Here is, in my assessment, the most conceptually interesting and the most undertheorized point.

Language models are trained on human content. That content, to a large extent, was produced under the logic of social networks – posts, SEO-optimized articles, engagement content, performative texts. In other words: the training material of LLMs is already, in part, a product of the political economy of cognition I have been describing. Generative AIs learned vitrinization along with language.

And they now produce content that re-enters the circuit. Optimized posts, personal-marketing texts, LinkedIn essays, professional bios, advertising copy – an ever-larger share of circulating digital content is generated or refined by AI. That content will be, in turn, training material for the next generation of models.

It is necessary, here, to return to Pierre Lévy. In Collective Intelligence (1994), Lévy proposed one of the most influential visions of the cognitive potential of the network: cyberspace as an environment in which distributed human intelligences could articulate themselves into an emergent collective knowledge, qualitatively superior to the sum of its parts. It was a generous anthropological bet – the network as space of symbolic co-elaboration, in which each participant brings their cognitive singularity and the whole emerges as shared construction.

The urgent question, three decades later, is: what happens to Lévy’s collective intelligence when a substantial fraction of the “agents” in the common space ceases to be human? LLMs are not just tools used by humans; they produce content, participate in discussions, synthesize, opine, recommend. They are inside the space of co-elaboration, not outside it. Is the intelligence that emerges from this hybrid collective still “collective” in Lévy’s sense – human cognitive singularities articulating themselves? Or is it something else, still without a name, in which the gain in processing capacity comes at the cost of loss of epistemic diversity and situated human authorship?

Iyad Rahwan, in a seminal paper published in Nature in 2019 (“Machine Behaviour”, with more than twenty coauthors from various disciplines), argued that we need a science of machine behavior analogous to animal ethology – because AI systems are autonomous behavior agents whose collective effect, in the environment where they operate alongside humans, is not reducible to properties of their underlying models. It is a technical reformulation of the same problem: the distributed intelligence of Lévy’s cyberspace has become hybrid, and we still lack mature vocabulary to describe it.

The most discussed consequence of this circuit is model collapse. There is recent technical work – Ilia Shumailov and coauthors, published in Nature in 2024 – showing that, under certain training conditions without adequate curation of synthetic data, models trained on increasing proportions of AI-generated data degrade progressively, losing the tail of the distribution: rare events, minority perspectives, genuine creativity. It is a documented technical problem, but also an exact metaphor for the sociological concern: if AI is trained on the products of a vitrinized culture and produces more vitrinized products, what happens to the epistemic diversity of public space?

Lévy’s collective intelligence, in this scenario, is not simply replaced by artificial intelligence. It is contaminated by a synthetic layer that homogenizes, smooths, flattens. The collective still exists; its composition changes, and with it its cognitive emergence.

The consequence for the three earlier layers

Generative AI acts on each of the layers I described in the previous texts.

In the cognitive layer, it amplifies or substitutes for human System 2, changing what it means to “decide under framing”. If I use an LLM to evaluate options, the framing that matters is no longer only what the environment offers me – it is also what the language model produces in its response. And what the model produces is the result of its training, its safety constraints, its system instructions, its product design. Framing gains an additional layer of mediation.

In the strategic layer, it changes the equilibrium of social games. If high-quality content can be mass-produced by AI at near-zero marginal cost, what once signaled effort (a well-written post, an elaborate essay) ceases to signal competence. The equilibrium of vitrinization undergoes structural transformation: the race for visibility continues, but what counts as “costly performance” shifts.

In the institutional layer, it opens a new regulatory front. Not only to regulate the platforms, but also to regulate the use of AI in content production, in public decision, in political deliberation. The EU AI Act is the first structured attempt. In Brazil, PL 2338/2023, which proposes a regulatory framework for artificial intelligence, was approved in the Senate in December 2024 and proceeded to analysis by the Chamber of Deputies. The designs are incipient; empirical evidence of what works is practically nonexistent.

Where this meets the my doctoral toolkit

The question that takes shape at this crossing is, for me, particularly interesting because it touches directly the toolkit I am developing in my doctorate – although, importantly, the formal object of the thesis is something else. Vitrinization, seen through the lens of Layer 2, is a problem of emergent cooperation among cognitively heterogeneous agents under a specific incentive architecture. It is exactly the kind of problem agent-based models (ABM) are built to investigate.

My thesis, at FEP/UP, investigates the conditions under which cooperation emerges among cognitively heterogeneous agents. It does not directly treat the substantive problem of this series – vitrinization, platforms, generative AI. But it offers the natural quantitative toolkit to investigate it. Schelling, who sustained much of the argument of Layer 2, is literally the grandfather of ABM in the social sciences. The line of research that connects this conceptual program to my thesis is, therefore, methodological: the toolkit I am consolidating in the doctorate is precisely what would allow, in parallel and post-doctoral research, the quantitative investigation of the substantive questions this series maps.

The especially interesting point, to which I will return in the last text, is that the entry of generative AI as a new layer can also be modeled in ABM – this time with heterogeneous agents that include human agents and machine agents interacting in the same space. It is technical terrain still little explored, and one that offers one of the most original research openings I see emerging at the crossroads between AI, collective behavior, and institutional design.

The synthesis, in the next text

The four layers are on the table. Each illuminates one aspect of the problem; each leaves gaps that the others fill. In the next and final text of this series, I will stitch the threads – propose the unifying thesis, articulate how framing operates transversally, and develop the four research questions this synthesis suggests, in explicit articulation with the doctoral work in progress.

Let’s go for the final text (CLICK HERE FOR PART 5).


References

ACEMOGLU, D.; JOHNSON, S. Power and Progress: Our Thousand-Year Struggle Over Technology and Prosperity. New York: Public Affairs, 2023.

BRYNJOLFSSON, E.; LI, D.; RAYMOND, L. R. “Generative AI at Work”. Quarterly Journal of Economics, vol. 140, no. 2, 2025.

CARR, N. The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. New York: W. W. Norton, 2010.

CASTRO, D. P. “ChatGPT o1 and Human Rational Decision-Making According to Kahneman: A Technical and Scientific Analysis”. deocleciocastro.com, October 2024.

CASTRO, D. P. “The Enhanced Reflection of ChatGPT o1 and Human Thought”. deocleciocastro.com, October 2024.

KAHNEMAN, D. Thinking, Fast and Slow. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011.

LÉVY, P. Collective Intelligence: Mankind’s Emerging World in Cyberspace. New York: Plenum, 1997. [Original French: 1994.]

LÉVY, P. Cyberculture. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001. [Original French: 1997.]

PLATO. Phaedrus. Translated by Christopher Rowe. London: Penguin Classics, 2005.

RAHWAN, I. et al. “Machine Behaviour”. Nature, vol. 568, pp. 477-486, 2019.

RISKO, E. F.; GILBERT, S. J. “Cognitive Offloading”. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, vol. 20, no. 9, pp. 676-688, 2016.

SHUMAILOV, I.; SHUMAYLOV, Z.; ZHAO, Y. et al. “AI Models Collapse When Trained on Recursively Generated Data”. Nature, vol. 631, pp. 755-759, 2024.

STIEGLER, B. Symbolic Misery, Volume 1: The Hyperindustrial Epoch. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2014. [Original French: 2004.]

Social media is not lke this by nature.

Who Designs the Game Decides the Outcome: why network technology was never neutral (Part 3 of 5)

There is a moment, in any serious reflection on social networks, when the technological temptation reappears. It is the moment when one says: “the networks are like that, it is the nature of the thing”. Or its symmetrical reverse: “these technologies are inherently exploitative… extracting attention, data, and behavior is what they were built to do”. In either case, technology is ascribed a fixed nature that determines the social outcome.

I want to argue, in this third text of the series, that this ascription is wrong – and that it conceals the political operation that produced the current state of affairs. Social network technologies are not intrinsically anything. What we see today is the result of specific institutional choices, made by specific actors, in specific regulatory contexts. And what has been done can be undone or redone.

I have personal empirical evidence of this. In 2011, I was responsible for the creation and coordination of the social networks of the Government of the State of Ceará. I later worked for years in the Mayor’s Office of Fortaleza, with activity on projects such as the UNICEF Urban Centers Platform and the Secretariat for Conservation and Public Services. I was also responsible for the creation and coordination of FB Podcast, hosted at Colégio Farias Brito – a private secondary-school institution – which became notable as the first podcast studio in Brazil with free public access, dedicated to discussions in education, innovation, and entrepreneurship. I lived from the inside the phase in which it was possible to imagine social networks and digital infrastructure as instruments for participation, transparency, and dialogue between State, society, and citizen.

That imagination was not naïve; it was plausible and theorized. The networks could have become what they promised. They did not because specific choices were made elsewhere. It is this argument I want to develop, anchored in a literature that combines network sociology, political economy, and institutional design.

Castells: the network society as social fact, not technological destiny

It is not possible to discuss what the networks “could have been” without going through Manuel Castells. The trilogy The Information AgeThe Rise of the Network Society (1996), The Power of Identity (1997), End of Millennium (1998) – is the most influential sociological reference of the last quarter-century on what the network has structurally changed in contemporary societies.

The central thesis is twofold. First, there is a change in the mode of development: industrial capitalism gave way to informational capitalism, in which productivity depends crucially on the capacity to generate, process, and apply information. Second, there is a change in the social form: the dominant social structure ceases to be hierarchical and becomes network-shaped – composed of nodes and flows, with an inclusion/exclusion logic that operates by being in or out of the network, no longer only by static class.

The political consequence, which Castells developed in later works – Communication Power (2009) and Networks of Outrage and Hope (2012) – is that the network is simultaneously a terrain of new forms of domination and of new forms of resistance. The movements of the Arab Spring, the Spanish 15M, Occupy, the June 2013 protests in Brazil, and more recently the 2019 Chilean uprising and the articulations of Brazilian indigenous movements are all comprehensible within Castells’s frame. The network was not destined for extraction; neither is it destined for liberation. It is contested terrain.

Castells’s argument lends sociological density to what I am saying: the current configuration of commercial social networks is not “what technology produces”. It is what a specific allocation of power produced over that technology, at a specific historical moment, with little organized contestation. And organized contests can change the outcome – as the very network-based social movements Castells documents show.

Power and Progress: technology is underdetermined

Daron Acemoglu and Simon Johnson published in 2023 Power and Progress, a book that may be the most important recent economic contribution on the topic. The central thesis can be summarized in one sentence: the path a technology takes is not determined by the technology itself; it is determined by the allocation of power around it.

The authors make a brilliant historical reading. The same mechanical technology that could have benefited weavers in early-nineteenth-century England was used, given the prevailing relations of power, to displace them. The same electrification that could have shortened the working day was used, given the prevailing relations of power, to intensify it. The story is not “technology liberates” nor “technology enslaves”. It is: technology is malleable; organized power decides the form of the malleability.

Applied to social networks, the argument is disconcerting. The same network communication technology that enables global access to knowledge, horizontal political articulation, unprecedented cultural expression – and that produced real episodes of these, as Castells documented – was configured, given the property regime and regulatory environment of the early 2000s in the United States, as infrastructure for the extraction of behavioral surplus. In the precise sense Shoshana Zuboff gives in The Age of Surveillance Capitalism (2019): our attention and our behavioral traces are the raw material of prediction products sold in secondary markets.

There was no inevitability in this. There was decision.

Who designs the sludge

Cass Sunstein, in the book that bears its name (Sludge, 2022), introduced a notion complementary to his famous “nudge”. If a nudge is institutional friction designed to facilitate desired behavior, sludge is friction designed to hinder it.

The important observation is that digital platforms are specialists in asymmetric sludge. It is trivially easy to post and like; it is deliberately hard to delete the account, disable notifications, opt out of the algorithmic feed, export your data. The interface is designed for low friction toward engagement and high friction toward exit. This asymmetry of frictions is not incidental. It is architecture – and architecture is choice.

If the equilibrium of mutual exhaustion I described in the previous text is sustained by this asymmetry of frictions, then redesigning the frictions is a legitimate instrument of public policy. The point is not to ban the networks; it is to invert the sludge – to require that exit be as easy as entry, that control be default, that data be portable, that opting out of personalization be one click.

This is part of what the Digital Services Act in Europe is trying to do, especially by requiring more transparency, expanding user control, and allowing users of large platforms to opt for non-personalized recommendations. Obligations of algorithmic transparency, restrictions on targeted advertising to minors, and the requirement of systemic-risk reports from very large platforms all point in that direction. It is one of the first serious attempts, on a democratic scale, to redesign the sludge of platforms.

Other experiments are underway. Australia approved in November 2024 a law that establishes a minimum age of 16 for accounts on certain social platforms, imposing on the companies the obligation to take reasonable steps to prevent under-16 accounts. Brazil has discussed for years the Fake News Bill (PL 2630/2020) in variants ranging from promising to problematic, depending on the wording. The United States debates Section 230, though with legislative paralysis that reflects the veto power of the platforms themselves. China, with its autocratic regulatory model, imposes screen-time restrictions on minors that would be inadmissible in democracies but that show, once again, that technology is malleable when regulatory power wants it to be.

The relevant academic question – and one that enters the research agenda this series sketches – is: which of these redesigns produces, empirically, a displacement of the equilibrium toward less exhausting states? Theory says it should work. Empirical evidence is being built. There is here a clear research opening in comparative policy evaluation with quantitative method.

Benkler, Schneider, and the other possible architecture

Yochai Benkler, in The Wealth of Networks (2006), had already described a possible alternative architecture: commons-based peer production. Wikipedia is the classic example: a non-market cooperative infrastructure produced in network, governed by collectively agreed rules, and in operation for more than twenty years.

More recently, Nathan Schneider in Governable Spaces (2024) and the literature on “platform cooperativism” explore models of democratic governance of platforms – digital cooperatives, collectively owned platforms, decentralized networks such as Mastodon (on the ActivityPub protocol) and Bluesky (on the AT Protocol). These are not utopian proposals; they are experiments in operation, with documentable successes and failures.

The point is not that these alternatives are fully realizable at global scale. It is that their existence proves that the current configuration is not the only possible one, and therefore the current configuration is a choice.

Back to Ceará in 2011

I rediscover here, in theorized form, what I lived as practice. In 2011, in Ceará, we were still using the networks in a “pre-engagement-optimized-by-algorithm phase”. The feed was chronological, incentives for the user were different, targeted advertising was at another stage of development, and, fundamentally, the marginal profit of the network did not yet depend so centrally on prolonged capture of attention. It was possible, in that design, to do public communication that answered questions, expanded transparency, and established reasonable dialogue with citizens. It was the environment in which the Cinturão Digital do Ceará – 3,000 km of fiber optic, 92% urban population coverage – made sense as a democratic project.

I am not nostalgic for the tools of 2011. They were more primitive in many respects. But the institutional configuration and business model of the platforms at that moment allowed a public use that became progressively more difficult. What changed was not the network technology in any fundamental sense… it was the choices of the platforms (and some squared head persons in my way) and the regulatory environment that permitted them.

This observation has particular weight for any public manager who lived through that transition: it is lived empirical proof of Acemoglu and Johnson’s argument, and direct resonance with Castells’s thesis. Technology is underdetermined. Its destiny is power allocation.

The political conclusion

There is a difficult but inescapable conclusion. If vitrinization is the result of architecture, and if architecture is choice, then vitrinization is a problem of public policy, not an individual or moral problem. To ask people to be less vain, more conscious, more resilient, is to ask them to assume individual costs to solve a systemic problem. It works as poorly as asking individuals to solve global warming by changing light bulbs.

Intervention has to be structural. And structural means institutional. It means redesigning incentives, frictions, metrics, data-ownership rules, governance models.

But there is an additional problem, which opens the topic of the next text. The very tools of analysis – including behavioral economics, game theory, and network sociology – are being transformed in real time by the emergence of generative AIs. AIs are not just one more object on the regulatory agenda. They are a new layer in the cognitive architecture we are trying to analyze – and one that changes what it means to analyze.

That is the topic of the next text (CLICK HERE FOR PART 4).


References

ACEMOGLU, D.; JOHNSON, S. Power and Progress: Our Thousand-Year Struggle Over Technology and Prosperity. New York: Public Affairs, 2023.

BENKLER, Y. The Wealth of Networks: How Social Production Transforms Markets and Freedom. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006.

CASTELLS, M. The Rise of the Network Society. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. [The Information Age, vol. 1. First edition: 1996.]

CASTELLS, M. The Power of Identity. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. [The Information Age, vol. 2. First edition: 1997.]

CASTELLS, M. End of Millennium. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. [The Information Age, vol. 3. First edition: 1998.]

CASTELLS, M. Communication Power. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009.

CASTELLS, M. Networks of Outrage and Hope: Social Movements in the Internet Age. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2012.

CASTRO, D. P. “Cinturão Digital do Ceará e as mídias digitais” [The Ceará Digital Belt and Digital Media]. Proceedings of Social Media Brasil 2011, Fecomercio, São Paulo, 2011.

SCHNEIDER, N. Governable Spaces: Democratic Design for Online Life. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2024.

SUNSTEIN, C. R. Sludge: What Stops Us from Getting Things Done and What to Do about It. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2022.

ZUBOFF, S. The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: The Fight for a Human Future at the New Frontier of Power. New York: Public Affairs, 2019.

If everyone is tired of social media, why can't anyone stop?

The Dilemma of the Attention Commons: when everyone performs, no one rests (Part 2 of 5)

In the previous text I proposed that contemporary vitrinization should be understood as an instance of the political economy of cognition at scale – and I opened the discussion through the cognitive layer, where framing acts on the individual. I showed how the framing effect, established by Tversky and Kahneman in 1981, has been industrialized by recommendation algorithms, which frame content at personalized scale for billions of users simultaneously.

The cognitive layer, however, explains how framing affects an individual decision. It does not explain why, even knowing we are being framed, even knowing the effects of networks on our mental health, even after reading Han and Türcke, we keep posting, scrolling, comparing. Why is this equilibrium stable?

The answer requires another toolkit: game theory. And it also requires recovering an earlier theoretical lineage – a tradition of thought about collective behavior that long predates contemporary discourse on social networks and that illuminates, with surprising relevance, part of what is at stake.

The lineage of crowds: from Le Bon to Türcke

In 1895, Gustave Le Bon published Psychologie des foules, known in English as The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind. The book is controversial – it has politically uncomfortable readings, it was mobilized by mass-propaganda theorists of suspect provenance, and it contains dated claims about race and gender that warrant no defense. Yet its analytical core is disconcertingly current: individuals immersed in a crowd display behavior they would not display in isolation. There is heightened suggestibility, affective contagion, a temporary dissolution of individual judgment in favor of a “collective soul” (his expression) that operates with a logic of its own.

Le Bon was describing physical crowds – mobs, demonstrations, audiences. But the mechanisms he identified – emotional contagion, suspension of critical reflection, formation of a transient psychic unity – anticipate with striking precision what we observe in digital crowds: virals, cancellations, waves of outrage or euphoria that cross platforms in hours and shape individual behavior at mass scale.

The lineage matters because it gives historical depth to the argument. Freud worked explicitly with Le Bon in Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, of 1921, and incorporated him into what would become his reflection on the collective superego in Civilization and Its Discontents. Christoph Türcke, in Erregte Gesellschaft (Excited Society), retakes the problem of contagion in the form of the dispute for attention mediated microelectronically. Byung-Chul Han, in In the Swarm: Digital Prospects, describes the digital collective precisely as a crowd without a body – an aggregation of isolated individuals whose simultaneity in digital space produces effects analogous to those of the physical crowd, but without the counterpart that the crowd once had: presence, the body, the possibility of deliberation. It is a continuous tradition, with a hundred and thirty years of depth, and one that deserves to be acknowledged as such.

The game-theoretic question, however, operates in a different register. Le Bon describes what happens. Game theory asks why this equilibrium is stable.

Vitrinization as a Nash equilibrium of mutual exhaustion

The Hanian reading – burnout society as the self-exploitation of the performance subject – is phenomenologically powerful, but insufficient to model the structure of incentives that produces and sustains the symptom. The game-theoretic question is different: given the incentive configuration of the platform and the strategy of other users, what is the best response of a rational subject?

When we formulate it that way, the answer appears. The vitrinization equilibrium is stable because it is a dilemma of the commons, structurally analogous – though not identical – to the tragedy described by Garrett Hardin (1968) for natural common-pool resources (formally, vitrinization is closer to a coordination game with multiple stable equilibria, with path-dependence over which basin the system has fallen into, than to Hardin’s single-equilibrium tragedy – a distinction that strengthens, further on, the relevance of tipping points). Each individual, given the behavior of others, has incentive to perform. If no one posts, posting yields high visibility returns. If everyone posts, not posting costs invisibility. Since visibility became capital – a cultural transformation Paula Sibilia mapped in O Show do Eu (2008), generalizing Bourdieu – invisibility is symbolic disoccupation, failure in the regime that defines who exists.

The result is a Nash equilibrium: no different unilateral strategy improves the outcome of the one who deviates. Everyone performs, everyone exhausts themselves, no one can defect in isolation without cost. And as in any dilemma of the commons, the equilibrium is Pareto-inferior: we would all be better off if no one performed, but from any state of low performance, there are individual gains in deviating, and the high-performance equilibrium reasserts itself.

Schelling: rational microchoices, absurd macro-outcomes

Thomas Schelling, in Micromotives and Macrobehavior (1978), showed that undesired collective behaviors can emerge from perfectly rational microchoices. The canonical example is the segregation model: individuals with moderate preferences about the kind of neighborhood they want can produce, in aggregate, extreme racial segregation. There is no racism at the micro-scale that explains the macro outcome; it is the dynamic of the game that produces the outcome.

A methodological note worth registering. Schelling’s segregation model is, in retrospect, one of the earliest agent-based models (ABM) in the social sciences. Before computation made the methodology scalable, Schelling ran simulations on physical boards. Today, ABM is one of the principal tools for investigating the emergence of collective phenomena from local rules of heterogeneous individual behavior. It is precisely the toolkit I am developing, in another register, in my doctoral thesis – where I investigate the conditions under which cooperation emerges among cognitively heterogeneous agents. Vitrinization has the same formal structure as what ABM models well: heterogeneous agents, local rules of interaction, emergent global properties. I will return to this point in the last text of the series.

Vitrinization thus has the same logical structure as Schelling’s model. No user individually wants “to perform exhaustively for the approval of others”. What each wants is to maintain connection, avoid invisibility, feel relevant. But the aggregation of these microchoices, under the specific architecture of current platforms, produces a macro-condition that is the burnout society.

Schelling offers another useful contribution: the notion of tipping point. Social equilibria usually have more than one stable point, with unstable points between them. If we manage to perturb the system enough, we can transit to another equilibrium. But small perturbations are absorbed: the system returns to its prior equilibrium. This is precisely why individualized “digital-detox” campaigns typically fail – and why regulatory measures must be structural to have effect.

Endogenous preferences: the missing ingredient

There is an additional sophistication that my training leads me to notice, and that few texts on social networks incorporate adequately. In classical economic models, an agent’s preferences are exogenous – they enter the game with them, and the game does not change them. In the case of vitrinization, this is false.

Leon Festinger, in 1954, proposed the theory of social comparison: people evaluate their own conditions, opinions, and abilities in relation to those of others, especially in the absence of objective criteria. Decades later, George Akerlof and Rachel Kranton formalized this intuition in identity economics (starting in 2000, with systematic development in their book Identity Economics, 2010): my utility depends not only on what I have, but on how I stand relative to a reference group.

When we apply this to digital space, something important changes. My utility from posting a vacation photo depends not just on the photo; it depends on how it compares to the photos I see from others. If everyone posts spectacular vacations, posting an ordinary vacation reduces my utility – I look worse. To maintain constant utility, I need to post ever better vacations. But everyone faces the same incentive. The result is a Red Queen race: we run ever faster to stay in the same place.

This means individual preferences are endogenous to the very game. What I desire depends on what others desire, which depends on what I desire, in an infinite loop. For a game theorist, this is an interesting technical problem and still little explored in its application to platforms.

Where GMCR can contribute and where it meets its limit

The Graph Model for Conflict Resolution, developed by Keith Hipel, Marc Kilgour and team from the 1990s onward, is a formal structure for modeling conflicts with multiple decision-makers, options, states, and preferences. Its most recent extensions incorporate preferences under uncertainty, hypergraph-type preferences, and, more recently, preferences under social influence.

Imagining an application of GMCR to the “dilemma of the attention commons” is an intellectually provocative exercise: the actors would be (i) heterogeneous users, (ii) the platform as meta-player designing the architecture, and (iii) advertisers; options and states would refer to levels of performance, exposure, and engagement; preferences would be socially endogenous. The stability concepts of GMCR – Nash, GMR, SMR, SEQ – would map which states are robust to which perturbations.

Here, however, we encounter a first-magnitude methodological obstacle that deserves to be said without hedge. In GMCR, the elicitation of decision-makers’ preferences is the hardest step of the entire application of the method. It is not a technical difficulty to be circumvented: it is the central difficulty. Even in conflicts with few actors and few options – like the Cocó viaducts conflict I studied in my master’s – obtaining complete, consistent, and stable orderings of preferences over states is arduous work. Decision-makers rarely manage to articulate complete preferences. When they do articulate, they do so with internal inconsistencies, with context dependence in the interview, and – closing a recursion worth insisting on – with sensitivity to the framing of the question itself. In a “conflict” with billions of users, thousands of platforms, and dozens of regulatory jurisdictions, direct elicitation becomes unfeasible.

Possible paths around this difficulty include: (i) revealed preferences from behavioral data, with the known pitfalls of inferring preferences from behavior under manipulated framing; (ii) stylized models with postulated preferences, validated by their ability to reproduce observed phenomena; (iii) aggregation in representative classes rather than agent-by-agent modeling; (iv) ABM approaches, in which heterogeneous preferences are parameterized and equilibrium emerges by simulation. Each path has its own analytical cost.

Recognizing this difficulty is not admitting failure; it is honestly locating where the work to be done lies. There may be, indeed, an original contribution in the very formulation of elicitation protocols that recognize the framing recursion – the measurement instrument subject to the same bias it studies – as part of the method, rather than as a source of noise to be eliminated.

There is close contemporary work. Daron Acemoglu, with Asuman Ozdaglar and James Siderius, has since 2021 been publishing a series of papers formally modeling platforms, engagement, information propagation, and degraded equilibria. It is direct neighborhood – though with emphasis on propagation dynamics, while a contribution via GMCR or ABM would focus on multi-equilibrium stability analysis and on the modes of transition between basins of attraction.

The opening question

If vitrinization is a Nash equilibrium of mutual exhaustion, sustained by socially endogenous preferences, then two conclusions impose themselves.

First: individual solutions are, by construction, insufficient. To ask people to use the networks less is to ask each one to deviate unilaterally from a stable equilibrium. There may be individual heroes, but they pay the price of invisibility. The equilibrium reasserts itself. Digital-detox campaigns, screen-time apps, retreats without phones – all act at the individual margin, not on the structure of the game. They are moral palliatives for a systemic problem.

Second: if the equilibrium is stable given the architecture, changing the equilibrium requires changing the architecture. But the architecture – algorithms, metrics, interface design, business models – is not a given of nature. It is the choice of a small set of corporate actors, in specific regulatory environments. In other words: the architecture is political.

That is the topic of the next text (CLICK HERE FOR PART 3).


References

ACEMOGLU, D.; OZDAGLAR, A.; SIDERIUS, J. “A Model of Online Misinformation”. Review of Economic Studies, 2024.

AKERLOF, G. A.; KRANTON, R. E. Identity Economics: How Our Identities Shape Our Work, Wages, and Well-Being. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2010.

CASTRO, D. P. Efeito de Enquadramento no Modelo de Grafos para Resolução de Conflitos com uma Aplicação ao Conflito das Obras de Construção dos Viadutos do Cocó [Framing Effect in the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution with an Application to the Cocó Viaducts Construction Works]. Master’s thesis – Federal University of Ceará, Fortaleza, 2022.

FESTINGER, L. “A Theory of Social Comparison Processes”. Human Relations, vol. 7, no. 2, pp. 117-140, 1954.

FREUD, S. Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego. New York: W. W. Norton, 1990. [Original German: 1921.]

HAN, B.-C. In the Swarm: Digital Prospects. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2017.

HARDIN, G. “The Tragedy of the Commons”. Science, vol. 162, no. 3859, pp. 1243-1248, 1968.

HIPEL, K. W.; KILGOUR, D. M.; FANG, L. Conflict Resolution Using the Graph Model: Strategic Interactions in Competition and Cooperation. Cham: Springer, 2018.

LE BON, G. The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind. Mineola: Dover, 2002. [Original French: 1895.]

SCHELLING, T. C. Micromotives and Macrobehavior. New York: W. W. Norton, 1978.

SIBILIA, P. O Show do Eu: a intimidade como espetáculo [The Spectacle of the Self: intimacy as spectacle]. Rio de Janeiro: Nova Fronteira, 2008.

TÜRCKE, C. Erregte Gesellschaft: Philosophie der Sensation. Munich: C. H. Beck, 2002.

TVERSKY, A.; KAHNEMAN, D. “The Framing of Decisions and the Psychology of Choice”. Science, vol. 211, no. 4481, pp. 453-458, 1981.

Has posted life become the frame for lived live?

Vitrinization and Framing as Technology: notes for a political economy of attention (Part 1 of 5)

There is something in the present that leaves me intellectually uneasy, and I have been trying to name this discomfort. It is not a private matter: it has surfaced in conversations with colleagues in Portugal, with friends in Brazil, with people I knew from my earlier public-sector work and who today hold a range of positions. There is a diffuse exhaustion, the sense that we are all carrying out a task whose terms we never formally accepted, a permanent demand to appear, to perform, to remain relevant, and an exhaustion that does not yield to eight hours of sleep, a vacation, or therapy. The phenomenon is collective enough not to be an individual symptom, and structural enough not to be a matter of willpower. It is something to be thought through.

I bring to this thinking a specific trajectory. In 2011, I worked as a strategic-planning officer for digital media in the Government of the State of Ceará. That year I presented, at the Social Media Brasil conference held at Fecomercio in São Paulo, a case on the use of digital media articulated to the Cinturão Digital do Ceará project, a state-owned fiber-optic infrastructure of 3,000 km, with planned coverage of 92% of the state’s urban population, designed to support distance education, telemedicine, public transparency, and direct dialogue channels with citizens. The text I wrote argued, citing explicitly Pierre Lévy on cyberspace, Foucault on power as productive network, Santaella and Lemos on connective cognition, and Rosenau on governance, that the combination of the infrastructure plus the qualified presence of public power on social networks could generate “a democratic and participatory environment, [with] broad-ranging discussions for the emergence of a network of collaborative solutions”. The normative horizon, stated explicitly in the conclusion of that text, was Lévy’s collective intelligence at the service of what Liberation Theology has called a just and supportive society.

Almost fifteen years later, it is difficult to reread that text without discomfort. Not because the premises were wrong… the theoretical toolkit was robust, and several of the references are the same ones I encounter today in serious discussions about networks, but because the institutional configuration that followed made that aspiration almost unreachable. Not through failure of the technology, but through capture of its governance. The same platforms that then seemed infrastructure for participation became infrastructure for the extraction of behavioral surplus. Lévy’s collective intelligence was replaced by what I have been calling, in conversations and drafts, vitrinization (from the Portuguese ‘vitirine’ – ‘shop window’, in English): people constructing appearances, lives, happinesses, and opinions that exist only in the digital field, always artificially shaped to fit patterns that exist precisely to compare us to one another. A world of digital ideas, in an almost Platonic sense, where lived life becomes a paler shadow of the posted life.

I am, at the moment of writing, reading Freud’s Civilization and Its Discontents. I had already read Guy Debord’s The Society of the Spectacle, Byung-Chul Han’s The Burnout Society, and Paula Sibilia’s O Show do Eu [The Spectacle of the Self]. I recently began Gustave Le Bon’s The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind, which Freud, incidentally, discusses explicitly in Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego, from 1921. There is a clear lineage here on collective behavior: Le Bon, Freud, Türcke, Han. The diagnoses are phenomenologically precise. I miss, however, something my training allows me to look for: a theory that explains not only what we feel, but why this equilibrium is stable. Why people who know that the networks leave them worse off continue using them. Why “the machine that cannot stop” is, at once, individually rational choice and collective trap.

This question is close kin to those I have been working on in my doctorate. I am a doctoral student in Economics at the School of Economics of the University of Porto, with current research centered on the emergence of cooperation in agent-based models (ABM) with cognitively heterogeneous agents. Earlier, at the Federal University of Ceará, I defended a master’s thesis on framing effects in the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution, applied to the conflict of the Cocó viaducts in Fortaleza. The tools (game theory, behavioral economics, multi-agent modeling) converge on a common object: how individual decisions, under specific choice architectures, produce collective outcomes that no one asked for but everyone sustains.

I intend, in this series of five texts, to organize a conceptual architecture that connects the humanist diagnosis of contemporary exhaustion (Lévy critically revisited, Castells, Han, Türcke, Sibilia, Debord, Le Bon, Freud) with the quantitative toolkit of behavioral economics and game theory. The background thesis is simple and perhaps still underexplored: vitrinization is a contemporary instance of a broader problem – the political economy of cognition under personalized choice architectures at scale.

This problem operates in four layers, and I will dedicate one text to each:

  1. The cognitive layer, where framing acts on the individual (this text).
  2. The strategic layer, where framing produces non-cooperative collective equilibria.
  3. The institutional layer, where the architecture of the game is a political choice, not a technological destiny.
  4. The algorithmic layer, where generative AI enters as a new layer – simultaneously amplifier and attenuator.

A fifth text will close the series with the synthesis and a research agenda that articulates this program with my doctoral thesis. Let us proceed to the first layer.


Framing as cognitive technology

In 1981, Amos Tversky and Daniel Kahneman published in Science an experiment that became classic. They presented subjects with a public-health problem (a disease that could kill 600 people) and two treatment options. The difference between the two experimental groups did not lie in the options: it lay in the framing. For one group, outcomes were described in terms of lives saved; for the other, in terms of lives lost. The choices reversed. Preferences, supposedly stable according to standard economic theory, turned out to be sensitive to the frame in which the problem was presented.

This finding opened decades of research in behavioral economics and established an epistemologically fundamental point: framing is not noise over preference; it is constitutive of it. In many decision contexts, the observed preference is not independent of the framing that produces it. It emerges from the interaction between subject, context, and form of presentation.

When I worked on my master’s thesis applying the framing effect to the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution – in the concrete case of the Cocó viaducts conflict in Fortaleza – I was operationalizing this intuition in a multilateral conflict setting. Decisions on major urban works involve actors with apparently fixed preferences: environmental movements, government, contractors, residents. What I showed is that these preferences, and therefore the stable equilibria of the conflict, change radically depending on the framing of the options.

It is necessary, however, to be methodologically honest about a central difficulty in the use of GMCR and of conflict models in general. The elicitation of decision-makers’ preferences is, by far, the hardest problem of the method. It is not just one step among others: it is the step at which everything can collapse. Decision-makers rarely manage to articulate complete preferences over all possible states of a conflict. When they do articulate, they do so incompletely, inconsistently, context-dependently, and (here a disconcerting circle closes) sensitively to the framing of the interview itself. The instrument we use to measure preferences in conflict contexts is itself subject to the same mechanism we are trying to model. This is a genuine recursion, not a methodological flaw to be circumvented. To recognize it openly is, in my assessment, part of what may become an original contribution of the research program this series sketches.

From experiment to algorithm: framing industrialized

The point I want to defend now is that something profound has changed between the Tversky-Kahneman experiment and the present. In 1981, framing was artisanal: a researcher designing two versions of a problem, a doctor speaking with a patient, a lawyer preparing an argument. It was a manual instrument.

In the 21st century, framing has become computational infrastructure. The Instagram feed algorithm, TikTok, X, YouTube execute, thousands of times per second, the same gesture that Tversky and Kahneman executed one experiment at a time. Each user, in each session, receives a customized framing: the same content, ranked in different order, juxtaposed with different other content, in different emotional moments, generates different decisions. Cass Sunstein, in works after Nudge, called this “personalized choice architecture”.

The difference in scale is not trivial; it is qualitative. A framing experiment affects dozens of subjects. A recommendation algorithm operates over billions of users simultaneously, with real-time feedback and adaptive optimization of the framing that maximizes engagement. Daron Acemoglu and Simon Johnson, in Power and Progress (2023), describe what one can call, with them, a preferential manipulation technology at industrial scale.

The empirical evidence anchoring this argument is strong, though a critical reading of the most well-known study of the topic requires care. In 2015, Eytan Bakshy and a Meta team published in Science a seminal paper documenting that algorithmic ranking contributes materially to the composition of what each user sees — although the authors themselves, funded by Meta, attributed greater weight to individual choices than to the algorithm, a reading that received substantial methodological criticism. Subsequent studies, with expanded access to Meta data, indicated that changes in the algorithmic feed can alter patterns of exposure and use, though effects on political attitudes and polarization are more difficult to identify. For the argument of this text, the central point is more restricted: the algorithm participates in the composition of the decision environment. The algorithm, in other words, is industrial framing.

Lévy revisited: from aspirational cyberspace to instrumental architecture

It is worth, at this point, returning to Pierre Lévy, an author whose presence in my 2011 repertoire I already noted in the opening of this series. Lévy described cyberspace, in Cyberculture (1997), as “the new means of communication that arises from the worldwide interconnection of computers”, including in this description not only the infrastructure but also “the human beings who navigate and nourish this universe”. The formulation is hospitable: the network includes, by construction, the human agents who inhabit it and constitute it as co-authors.

What happened between 1997 and 2026 is, in part, an inversion of that hospitality. The network still includes humans, but no longer as co-creators of a space of collective intelligence rather as input to a behavioral-extraction operation that frames their choices to optimize engagement. The difference is not in the Lévy of 1997; it is in the institutional configuration that took over the infrastructure he was describing. This will be the central argument of the third text in this series.

The epistemological consequence

There is a consequence here that seems to me underexplored in Brazilian, Lusophone, and even international academic public debate. If we accept the behavioral evidence (that framing constitutes preference) and if we accept the empirical evidence (that the algorithm frames at scale) then preferences expressed in digital space should not be read as simple pre-existing preferences of users. They are co-produced preferences: part comes from the subject, part comes from the computational architecture.

This destabilizes both the liberal discourse about “freedom of choice” in media consumption, and the reactive discourse about “total manipulation”. The truth is more uncomfortable: we are subjects partly authors, partly co-authored by an infrastructure we do not control and whose design we never voted on.

The practical question that opens is: if framing is a technology, and if this technology operates on our cognition at scale, who has the right to use it? Under what rules? With what responsibilities? These questions lead directly to the next layer — what happens when billions of individuals co-produced by algorithms interact with one another?

That is the topic of the next text. (CLICK HERE FOR PART 2)


References

ACEMOGLU, D.; JOHNSON, S. Power and Progress: Our Thousand-Year Struggle Over Technology and Prosperity. New York: Public Affairs, 2023.

BAKSHY, E.; MESSING, S.; ADAMIC, L. “Exposure to ideologically diverse news and opinion on Facebook”. Science, vol. 348, no. 6239, pp. 1130-1132, 2015.

CASTRO, D. P. Efeito de Enquadramento no Modelo de Grafos para Resolução de Conflitos com uma Aplicação ao Conflito das Obras de Construção dos Viadutos do Cocó [Framing Effect in the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution with an Application to the Conflict of the Cocó Viaducts Construction Works]. Master’s thesis — Federal University of Ceará, Fortaleza, 2022.

CASTRO, D. P. “Cinturão Digital do Ceará e as mídias digitais” [The Ceará Digital Belt and Digital Media]. Proceedings of Social Media Brasil 2011, Fecomercio, São Paulo, 2011.

DEBORD, G. The Society of the Spectacle. New York: Zone Books, 1995. [Original French: 1967.]

FOUCAULT, M. Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977. New York: Pantheon, 1980.

FREUD, S. Civilization and Its Discontents. New York: W. W. Norton, 2010. [Original German: 1930.]

FREUD, S. Group Psychology and the Analysis of the Ego. New York: W. W. Norton, 1990. [Original German: 1921.]

HAN, B.-C. The Burnout Society. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2015.

KAHNEMAN, D. Thinking, Fast and Slow. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2011.

LE BON, G. The Crowd: A Study of the Popular Mind. Mineola: Dover, 2002. [Original French: 1895.]

LÉVY, P. Cyberculture. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001. [Original French: 1997.]

SIBILIA, P. O Show do Eu: a intimidade como espetáculo [The Spectacle of the Self: intimacy as spectacle]. Rio de Janeiro: Nova Fronteira, 2008.

SUNSTEIN, C. R. Sludge: What Stops Us from Getting Things Done and What to Do about It. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2022.

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The Invisible Architecture of the Vote: A Complex-Network Reading of Twenty Years of Municipal Elections in Ceará (2004–2024)

For more than a decade, I worked from inside the political apparatus of the state of Ceará. From participations in victorious political campaigns from 2008 to 2016, from the Legislative Assembly in the late 2000s, to the Casa Civil of the state government in the years that followed, during the 2013 protests and the 2014 World Cup, and finally to the Mayor’s Office of Fortaleza from 2015 to 2020. I sat in war rooms during campaigns, drafted communication strategies for candidates and administrations, and watched, up close, how parties and territories knitted together every four years. I really lived those electoral cycles. I did not study them from a distance. I was part of the seams.

A few years ago, I crossed over to the other side of the desk. I went back to academia, finished a master’s in Mathematical Modeling and Quantitative Methods at UFC, and started my Ph.D. in Economics at the Faculty of Economics of the University of Porto. The same cycles I had helped run as an operator I now look at as an object of study. The political life of Ceará between 2004 and 2024: six municipal elections, 71,977 candidacies, 46,258 unique people, 184 municipalities, is no longer my workplace. It is my dataset.

This post is about what I started to see when I looked at it that way. It is about an idea I have been refining for some time and which I am now able to formalize with complex networks: the existence of an invisible architecture of the vote, a structural skeleton that organizes municipal politics in the state and which becomes legible only when we stop looking at individual candidacies and start looking at the web of relations that contains them. This work was carried out under the guidance of Professor Leandro Chaves Rêgo, from the Department of Statistics and Applied Mathematics of the Federal University of Ceará.


The invisible architecture: a way of seeing

We usually read an election through its most visible outputs. Who won. Who lost. How many votes a party received. Which incumbent fell. Those numbers matter, of course, but they are only the surface of a much richer phenomenon. Beneath them lies a quieter layer that almost never makes it into the news: the infrastructure of relations that makes each candidacy possible in the first place. The party that contains it. The municipality that hosts it. The cycle in which it is registered. The other candidates who share that exact combination of party, place, and time. And, beyond a single election, the recurrence of those same people across cycles: the careers, the alliances, the migrations, the territorial loyalties.

I have come to call this layer the invisible architecture of the vote. It is invisible not because it is hidden by anyone in particular, but because the tools we use to look at politics are usually not designed to make it visible. Vote counts, polls, even sentiment analyses like the one I built for the 2024 Fortaleza election, all live on the surface of campaigns. They tell us what happened. They do not tell us on what structure it happened.

Complex networks, the same mathematical framework that maps gene regulation, citation systems, and the world wide web, give us a way to see that structure. Each candidate becomes a node. Each shared political-electoral context becomes a link. Apply this systematically to two decades of municipal elections in Ceará, and a vast object emerges: a graph with 46,258 individuals and 495,393 links. Of those individuals, 43,551, roughly 94%, belong to a single connected component, the giant network that knits twenty years of municipal politics into one piece of structure. The remaining 6% are not absent from politics; they sit at the periphery of the graph, mostly as one-off council candidacies in small parties whose local slate had no partymate in the same municipality and no mayoral bridge to the rest of the state. The invisible architecture, in other words, has a thick modular core, a sparse periphery, and a clear boundary between the two.


The data: twenty years of candidacies, six cycles, one state

The base of the study is public data from the Tribunal Superior Eleitoral (TSE), the Brazilian Electoral Court. Two tables are merged with care: candidate registrations and per-candidate results. The cut is precise.

  • State: Ceará (CE).
  • Type of election: municipal.
  • Cycles: 2004, 2008, 2012, 2016, 2020, 2024 — six cycles, the entire period in which Ceará’s municipal elections have been conducted with full electronic voting.
  • Offices: prefeito (mayor) and vereador (councilor).
  • Filter: registrations with situação = deferido and present in both tables after the merge (_merge == "both").

Applied to the raw TSE bases, this filter yields a clean and reproducible set of numbers. They are recorded in the pipeline’s audit file and can be reconciled directly with the CSVs the scripts produce.

  • 71,977 candidacies observed over the period.
  • 46,258 unique individuals, identified by título eleitoral.
  • 184 municipalities — every municipality in Ceará.
  • Six cycles, two offices, one state.
  • 495,393 edges in the aggregate graph, 43,551 nodes and 492,973 edges in its largest connected component.

That gap between 71,977 candidacies and 46,258 people is the first quiet piece of evidence the data offers: many of the same people run, again and again. The political life of Ceará between 2004 and 2024 is, to a meaningful extent, a recurrent population. That is a fact, not yet an interpretation. The study tries to make sense of it.



The political backdrop: three eras in twenty years

For readers outside Ceará, a brief political backdrop helps to understand what the network is actually mapping. The twenty years covered by the study span three distinct phases of state politics.

The first, 2003–2006, closes the long tucano cycle that had organized Ceará’s politics since the 1980s, ending with the governorship of Lúcio Alcântara (PSDB). The first municipal election in our window, 2004, still belongs to that era.

The second, 2007–2022, is the era of the PT–PDT–PSB alliance. It begins with Cid Gomes (PSB) winning the governorship in 2006 and serving two consecutive terms (2007–2014). It continues with Camilo Santana (PT), governor from 2015 until April 2022, when he left office to run for the Senate, opening the way for his vice-governor Izolda Cela to finish the term, the first woman to effectively occupy the governorship of Ceará. For sixteen years, this coalition organized state politics around shared candidacies, shared campaign infrastructure and stable partisan blocks across the state. Fortaleza, in the same period, was governed by Luizianne Lins (PT, 2005–2012), then by Roberto Cláudio (PSB and later PDT, 2013–2020), and then by José Sarto (PDT, 2021–2024). Most of the dense partisan-municipal cliques that the network detects were forged during this period.

The third phase, 2022–present, begins with the rupture of that alliance. When the PDT chose to launch Roberto Cláudio for governor in 2022, instead of supporting governor Izolda Cela, who was backed by the PT, the sixteen-year coalition broke. The PT launched Elmano de Freitas, who won in the first round with 54.02% of the vote, against Capitão Wagner (União Brasil, 31.72%) and Roberto Cláudio (PDT, 14.14%). In February 2024, Cid Gomes left the PDT and joined the PSB, restoring his alliance with Camilo and Elmano, and sealing the public split with his brother Ciro Gomes, who moved to the PSDB. The last municipal election in our window, 2024, closed the period with the PT returning to Fortaleza’s mayorship after twelve yearsEvandro Leitão (PT) defeated André Fernandes (PL) in the second round, 50.38% to 49.62%, with the national Lula–Bolsonaro polarization projecting itself onto the local dispute.

These three phases are not just historical backdrop. They leave structural signatures in the network, which the next sections begin to read.


How the network was built

For the network to be useful, the rules by which two candidates are connected must be explicit and defensible. I use two rules, both applied within each electoral cycle.

Rule 1 — same party, same municipality, same election. Every candidate of a given party in a given municipality in a given election is linked to every other candidate of the same party in that same municipality and election. Operationally, this rule groups all candidacies by the triple (year, municipality, party) and connects everyone within the group. It generates roughly 87.5% of the edges in the aggregate graph.

Rule 2 — same party, same election, mayoral candidates across different municipalities. Mayoral candidates (prefeitos) of the same party are linked to one another across different municipalities of the state in the same election. Operationally, this rule filters the data to keep only mayoral candidacies, groups them by (year, party), and connects everyone within each group. It generates the remaining 12.5% of the edges and provides the long inter-municipal bridges of the graph.

One detail of Rule 1 is worth a short pause, because it can look surprising at first sight. Rule 1 does not filter by elective position. It links a party’s mayoral candidate to all of that same party’s council candidates in the same municipality and the same election. That choice is deliberate, and it is grounded in how Brazilian municipal campaigns actually work on the ground.

In Brazil’s institutional design, the prefeito sits in the municipal executive (the Prefeitura), and vereadores sit in the municipal legislative body (the Câmara Municipal). They are not part of the same branch of government, and that constitutional distinction matters for any analysis of governance, accountability or policy. But the edge rule is not describing institutional separation; it is capturing the local partisan campaign, which I have seen up close in more than one cycle. In every Brazilian municipal election, a party’s mayoral candidate and its council candidates in the same municipality run together as a single local slate: same platform, same territorial divisions, same operational unit on the streets. They dispute seats in different branches, but they wage the campaign as one. Filtering by office inside Rule 1 would mechanically disconnect a mayoral candidate from his or her own party’s councilors in the same city and the same year, and would erase precisely the partisan-municipal fabric this study is trying to map. The elective position is preserved as a node attribute and can be used in any downstream analysis; it is, in fact, the very attribute that defines Rule 2 (which restricts itself to mayors). It simply does not enter the grouping criterion of Rule 1.

The combination of the two rules has a subtle but powerful consequence. Two council candidates of the same party in different municipalities are not directly linked by any edge: Rule 1 connects only candidates in the same municipality, and Rule 2 connects only mayoral candidates. And yet, they end up in the same connected component whenever both municipalities also fielded mayoral candidates of that party. The path goes: councilor X — mayor of B — mayor of C — councilor Y, four nodes and three edges, with the two mayors acting as the structural pivots. The mayoral bridges of Rule 2 sew together the partisan-municipal cliques of Rule 1. This is precisely how a graph built from purely local cliques ends up with 94% of its nodes in a single giant component — and it is why the 881 isolated nodes I describe later are, almost without exception, council candidates from parties that did not field a mayoral candidate in their municipality (no Rule 1 partner) and either had no mayor anywhere else in the state, or were not themselves mayors to begin with (no Rule 2 bridge). The structure of the network is, in this very precise sense, carried by the mayoral races.

To prevent the size of local groups from mechanically dominating everything (a capital city has many more candidates per party than a small interior municipality), each edge inside a group receives a normalized weight. The total “force” of any candidate, contributed by a single group, is therefore constant. It is a way of decoupling topological support (who is connected to whom) from intensity (how strong the connection is).

The same logic is then carried into the time dimension. The pipeline builds six annual snapshots, one for each cycle, and a single aggregate graph that consolidates them. On the aggregate, three weighting scenarios coexist: a direct sum (weight_sum), a temporal-persistence rescaling (weight_final_global, which is the official scenario of the study), and a co-appearance variant (weight_final_coappear). The official scenario penalizes one-off connections and rewards links that come back, cycle after cycle. Persistence becomes weight.


What network science measures

On a graph this size, classical complex-network metrics start to do their job. I use the standard toolkit, without inventing exotic measures.

  • Degree counts a node’s direct connections.
  • Strength sums the weights of those connections.
  • PageRank — yes, the same algorithm Google used to rank the web — estimates how much “structural attention” a node receives, weighted by the attention received by its neighbors.
  • Eigenvector centrality rewards nodes whose neighbors are themselves well-connected.
  • Betweenness measures the extent to which a node sits on the shortest paths between others — in plain words, how much it acts as a bridge.
  • k-core finds dense cores: the k-core is the subgraph in which every node has at least k internal links.
  • Modularity and communities (Louvain) partition the network into densely connected clusters.

A caveat I will repeat as often as needed: these metrics report structural positions in the model, not “political power” in the broad sense. A high-degree candidate is not the same thing as a powerful politician. The first is a fact about the graph; the second is a judgment about the world. The two are sometimes related and sometimes not, and the distinction is fundamental.


The architecture revealed

Here is what the numbers look like once the pipeline runs.

The aggregate is one big modular thing, with a thin periphery. The graph that consolidates all six cycles has 46,258 nodes and 495,393 edges, distributed across 1,491 components. One of those components, the largest connected component, contains 43,551 nodes (94.1%) and 492,973 edges (99.5%). The other 1,490 components are small: 881 are single isolated nodes, with no links at all, and the rest are tiny clusters of 2 to 16 individuals each. Those isolated nodes have a very specific signature when I cross them back with the candidate file: 879 of the 881 are vereador candidacies, and 824 appear in only one cycle, mostly in the years up to 2016, in small parties (PC do B, PV, PMDB, PSC, PSL, PHS and similar) whose local slate that year had no other partymate in the same municipality and no mayoral candidate of the same party in any other Ceará municipality to bridge them into the rest of the state. The construction rule of the network is sharp on this point: a candidate needs at least one partymate-municipality-year companion (or, if they are a mayor, at least one fellow mayor of the same party elsewhere in the state) to enter the graph at all. The 881 isolated nodes are precisely those who satisfied neither condition. In other words, stacking twenty years of municipal candidacies on top of each other does not produce a constellation of small galaxies. It produces one very large modular galaxy plus a thin, recognizable periphery of one-time, lone candidacies that never linked into the main fabric.

That structure is extremely modular. Louvain detects 159 communities, with a modularity Q ≈ 0.94 — a value that, in network science, signals a clearly partitioned graph. The median community has 202 nodes; the largest has 4,057. The mechanism that generated the graph (party–municipality cliques) does most of the work to explain why modularity is this high. What is informative is the shape of the communities and the bridges between them.

The annual snapshots are fragmented. Each year-by-year network is a different story. In 2020, the peak year of the period, the snapshot has 14,386 nodes and 140,164 edges, but 634 components, and the largest connected component contains only 1,517 of those 14,386 nodes. In 2024, the same pattern: 11,953 nodes, 730 components, and an LCC of 987 nodes. Local clustering inside each year is very high (around 0.87–0.98), but global connectivity in a single cycle is the exception, not the rule. Twenty years of cycles, on the other hand, weave nearly every individual into the same fabric.

This contrast is one of the study’s central findings. Ceará’s municipal politics is not a sequence of independent elections. It is a cumulative system. The connectivity you see is not built in any one year; it is built across years.

Different metrics tell different stories. The Top-10 changes as I change the lens.

  • The Top-10 by degree and strength is dominated by prefeitos of small and medium-sized interior municipalities who reappear, cycle after cycle, in the same party. The highest-degree node in the entire aggregate is Dr Vilmar (PSB, Acopiara), who appears in all six cycles between 2004 and 2024 with 383 direct connections in the graph. Several others in the Top-10 — Dr Nilson Diniz (Cedro), Edinho Nobre (Banabuiú), Maninho Palhano (Fortaleza), Marcondes Ferraz (Saboeiro) — share the same profile: prolonged territorial presence within the same party in the same municipality.
  • The Top-10 by PageRank repeats much of this list, with Dr Vilmar at the top once again and a few new names entering through dense local neighborhoods.
  • The Top-10 by eigenvector is more concentrated still. It points to a small number of municipalities, notably Brejo Santo and Milagres, both in the Cariri region, where entire local partisan slates form extremely dense, eigenvector-saturated clusters.
  • The Top-10 by betweenness, the metric of structural bridges, reads almost like a who’s who of Fortaleza mayoral races, with a handful of metropolitan and interior mayors completing the list. The top values, in order, belong to candidates well known to anyone who has followed Ceará’s politics: José Sarto (Fortaleza), Roberto Cláudio (Fortaleza), Capitão Wagner (Fortaleza), Atila Camara (Maranguape), Luizianne Lins (Fortaleza), Naumi Amorim (Caucaia), Wembley “Beim” Costa (Paracuru), and again Dr Vilmar (Acopiara), this time as a small-town bridge across cycles, followed by Guilherme Saraiva (Barbalha). Mayoral campaigns in the capital and in major metropolitan and regional municipalities act as the structural connectors of the state’s political graph, precisely because they aggregate partisan slates across cycles in cities large enough to host competitive disputes.
  • The k-core of the aggregate reaches 131: there is a subgraph in which every member has at least 131 internal connections. That is a very deep core.

Recurrence carries the structure. When I cross the rankings with the enriched node files, a pattern becomes hard to miss: the top centralities are sustained, in most cases, by four to six cycles of consecutive presence, almost always in the same party and the same municipality. The architecture of the vote is not built in any single election. It is built by people who keep coming back.


A small biographical note that the data made unavoidable

One of the names that the betweenness ranking returned is Roberto Cláudio (PDT, Fortaleza). I cannot pretend the coincidence is invisible to me: between 2015 and 2020, I worked as a technical advisor at the Mayor’s Office of Fortaleza during his administration. The graph does not know that. The graph only sees that, across the cycles in which he appeared as a candidate, he sat on a particularly large number of shortest paths between modules of the network. It is a structural reading, derived from public TSE data, not a personal endorsement nor a political assessment.

The detail matters because it illustrates, with my own life, the basic methodological discipline of the study. A candidate’s centrality is not a measure of their power; it is a measure of where they sit in a model. I happen to know the political flesh behind some of these names. The metric does not. And it is precisely by keeping the metric agnostic that we can use it to reveal patterns we did not put there by hand.


The graphs return: an intellectual continuity

There is one more thing I want to register, and it is more personal than methodological. My master’s dissertation was titled Efeito de Enquadramento no Modelo de Grafos para Resolução de Conflitos, an application of the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution (GMCR) to the disputes around the Cocó viaducts in Fortaleza. My current doctoral track at the University of Porto continues that line: behavioral biases, framing effects, and uncertainty in graph-based conflict modeling, presented at EURO 2024 in Copenhagen and at the Global Decision and Negotiation Conference 2024 in Portugal. (I keep a chronological bibliographic history of GMCR on this blog for anyone interested.)

In other words: I have been thinking about politics through graphs for some time, but in a different register. GMCR was a tool to model bilateral or multilateral strategic conflicts: a few actors, a few options, a few preferences, a defined dispute. The Ceará electoral study is, in a sense, that same intellectual habit applied to a radically different scale: 46,258 actors, 184 territories, six cycles, half a million links, with no defined dispute at all. The same word, graph, covers both, but the object is no longer a conflict; it is a structure.

I find that continuity worth saying out loud. The graphs come back, in another scale and with another ambition. The architecture they help reveal is not built to be resolved. It is built to be understood.


What this lens shows about local politics

Putting all of this together, a careful and prudent interpretation looks like this.

Ceará’s municipal politics, observed through this network, is a persistent relational system, organized along three lines.

The first is strong modularity. The graph is unambiguously partitioned into communities that correspond, in most cases, to party–municipality blocks, with a smaller number of bridges, overwhelmingly mayoral races in larger cities, that knit the blocks together.

The second is cumulative connectivity. Each cycle, on its own, looks fragmented; many small components, a modest largest one. Twenty years of cycles, stacked, produce a single giant component containing more than 94% of all candidates who appeared in the period. The connectivity of state politics is a temporal product, not a snapshot.

The third is centrality anchored in continuity. The candidates the network places at the top of its centrality rankings are, in their overwhelming majority, people who appear in four, five, or all six cycles, in the same party and the same municipality. The network, in its official weighting scenario, rewards coming back. Episodic appearances do not generate central positions. Persistence does.

This is what I think the network is showing. It is a complementary lens to the more traditional reading of elections through votes and outcomes. It does not replace anything; it adds a dimension that, without this kind of tool, would stay where it usually stays — invisible.

A note on the coincidence between the network and the political history of the state. The strong modularity that the network displays is not just a mathematical curiosity; it is also coherent with what actually happened politically in the period. For sixteen years, from Cid Gomes’s first election as governor in 2006 to the rupture of 2022, Ceará’s state politics was organized around a stable PT–PDT–PSB coalition, with shared mayoral and council candidacies in many municipalities. That coalition produced precisely the kind of dense partisan-municipal blocks the network detects, and it explains why the modularity remains so high even when we collapse twenty years into a single aggregate graph. The 2022 break — the PDT launching Roberto Cláudio against the PT-supported governor Izolda Cela — and the subsequent migration of Cid Gomes from the PDT to the PSB in 2024, restoring his alliance with Camilo Santana and Elmano de Freitas, are structural events that will leave their signature on the next cycle of the study. The 2024 election alone, the last one in our window, already carries the first traces of the new configuration; a full reading of the new equilibrium will only be possible when 2028 enters the dataset.


Limitations

A study like this rests on methodological choices, and those choices have consequences.

The first is that the network depends on the rule by which candidates are connected. Choosing (year, municipality, party) plus an inter-municipal mayoral rule was a defensible choice, but other choices — including office in the grouping, using coligações instead of parties, aggregating by micro-region — would produce different graphs and, possibly, different patterns. The study argues for its rule; it does not pretend that no other rule exists.

The second is conceptual. Edges in this graph represent electoral co-affiliation, not directly observed personal relations. Two candidates linked in the network shared a partisan-municipal context in a given cycle; whether they knew each other, allied formally, or had any personal interaction at all is something the model cannot say. The model is, deliberately, agnostic about that.

The third is that TSE data, while public and detailed, are not perfect. Registry inconsistencies, identification changes across years, and residual duplicates exist. The pipeline applies filters (_merge == "both", situação = deferido, identification by título eleitoral), but a small fraction of noise almost certainly survives.

The fourth I have already said and will say again: structural centrality is not a measure of political power. It is a measure of position within the modeled graph. Reading it as the former is a category mistake.

The fifth: the aggregate graph collapses time. It is excellent for revealing trajectories and persistence, but it loses the calendar. That is why the study works with snapshots and aggregate in parallel — different representations answer different questions.


Finally…

The last cycle in the dataset, 2024, is also the one that suggests the next chapter of this story. The arrival of the PL in the Fortaleza second round with André Fernandes, the open projection of the national Lula–Bolsonaro polarization onto the local dispute, and the tight victory of Evandro Leitão (PT, 50.38%) that returned the party to the Fortaleza mayor’s office after twelve years, all point to a reconfiguration of the partisan-municipal cliques the network has been measuring. The architecture has begun to shift. The 2028 election, when it enters the dataset, will be the place to read how deep that shift goes, whether the new alignments produce new modules, whether the old bridges hold, and whether the recurrent population of Ceará’s politics rearranges itself around different party–municipality pairs.

There is something deeply Cearense about discovering, in the dry mathematics of a graph, what the state’s political memory already knew. The continuities. The lineages. The party–territory pairs that survive any single election. The persistent presence of certain mayors of small towns whose names rarely make state-wide news but who keep an entire local network stitched together cycle after cycle. The structural role of the capital’s mayoral races as the bridges that connect modules across the whole state. The architecture is not what we hear about. It is what holds up what we hear about.

I spent a decade inside that architecture, without seeing it from above. I am spending another decade trying to see it from above, without forgetting that it is the same thing. There is no contradiction between the operator and the researcher, only different scales of attention.

What network science offers, in studies like this one, is a discipline of attention. It forces us to make our rules explicit, to measure what we claim to see, and to admit what we cannot say. It does not replace the political reading of elections; it reorganizes the desk on which that reading happens. And, every once in a while, it lets us see the invisible architecture of the vote, not as metaphor, but as a real, measurable, modular, persistent thing.

That, I think, is worth doing. For the next cycle, and for the cycles after that.


Deoclécio Paiva de Castro

Ph.D. Candidate in Economics, Faculty of Economics, University of Porto
M.Sc. in Mathematical Modeling and Quantitative Methods, UFC
B.Sc. in Industrial / Production Engineering

Tags: complex networks; municipal elections; Ceará; network science; political analysis; data

GMCR authors graphs

Graph Model for Conflict Resolution

The Graph Model for Conflict Resolution (GMCR) is a powerful mathematical tool used to analyze and resolve complex conflicts across various fields, including negotiations, environmental management, and international disputes. Developed in the 1980s, the model has evolved over time, incorporating new techniques and approaches to handle uncertainty and multiple preferences. In this post, you will find a comprehensive and detailed bibliography on GMCR, featuring references from the earliest publications to the most recent ones, organized chronologically for easy reference.

Bibliographic history

Until 1980

  1. Fraser, N. M., & Hipel, K. W. (1979). “Solving complex conflicts.” IEEE Transactions on Systems, Man, and Cybernetics, 9(12), 805-816.
  2. Fraser, N. M., & Hipel, K. W. (1980). “Metagame analysis of the Poplar River conflict.” Journal of the Operational Research Society, 31(5), 377-385.

1981 – 1990

  1. Fraser, N. M., & Hipel, K. W. (1984). Conflict Analysis: Models and Resolutions. North-Holland, New York.
  2. Kilgour, D. M., Hipel, K. W., & Fang, L. (1987). “The Graph Model for Conflicts.” Automatica, 23(1), 41-55.
  3. Fang, L., Hipel, K. W., & Kilgour, D. M. (1989). Interactive Decision Making: The Graph Model for Conflict Resolution. Wiley.

1991 – 2000

  1. Hipel, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., & Fang, L. (1993). “The Graph Model for Conflicts.” Automatica, 29(5), 1425-1437.
  2. Kilgour, D. M., Hipel, K. W., & Fang, L. (1995). “The Graph Model for Conflict Resolution: Past and Future.” Interfaces, 25(6), 114-133.
  3. Hipel, K. W., Fang, L., & Kilgour, D. M. (1997). “The Decision Support System GMCR II in Environmental Conflict Management.” Applied Mathematics and Computation, 83(2-3), 117-152.
  4. Kilgour, D. M., Hipel, K. W., Fang, L., & Peng, X. (1998). “Applying the decision support system GMCR II to peace operations.” In Analysis for and of the Resolution of Conflict. Canadian Peacekeeping Press.

2001 – 2010

  1. Kilgour, D. M., Fang, L., & Hipel, K. W. (2001). Negotiation in Environmental Conflicts: The Graph Model Approach. Springer.
  2. Hipel, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., Fang, L., & Peng, X. (2001). “Strategic decision support for the services industry.” IEEE Transactions on Engineering Management, 48(3), 358-369.
  3. Li, K. W., Hipel, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., & Fang, L. (2004). “Preference uncertainty in the graph model for conflict resolution.” IEEE Transactions on Systems, Man, and Cybernetics, Part A, 34(4), 507-520.
  4. Li, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., & Hipel, K. W. (2005). “Status quo analysis in the graph model for conflict resolution.” Journal of the Operational Research Society, 56(6), 699-707.
  5. Obeidi, A., Hipel, K. W., & Kilgour, D. M. (2005). “Perception and emotion in the graph model for conflict resolution.” Proceedings of the 2005 IEEE International Conference on Systems, Man, and Cybernetics.
  6. Obeidi, A., Kilgour, D. M., & Hipel, K. W. (2009). “Perceptual stability analysis of a graph model for conflict resolution.” Group Decision and Negotiation, 18(3), 261-277.
  7. Peng, X., Hipel, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., & Fang, L. (2008). “A Graph Model for Conflict Resolution with Recursive Preferences.” Group Decision and Negotiation, 17(6), 491-513.

2011 – 2024

  1. He, S., Kilgour, D. M., & Hipel, K. W. (2017). “Analyzing market competition between Airbus and Boeing using a duo hierarchical model for conflict resolution.” Journal of Systems Science and Systems Engineering, 26(6), 683-710.
  2. Xu, H., Hipel, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., & Fang, L. (2015). “A Multiple Participant–Multiple Criteria Decision-Making Model Based on the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution.” Journal of Systems Science and Systems Engineering, 24(2), 188-210.
  3. Fang, L., Hipel, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., & Peng, X. (2013). “A Decision Support System for Interactive Decision Making, Part II: Analysis and Application.” IEEE Transactions on Systems, Man, and Cybernetics: Systems, 43(2), 185-197.
  4. Li, Y., Hipel, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., & Fang, L. (2016). “Preference Elicitation in the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution.” European Journal of Operational Research, 252(1), 352-363.
  5. Fang, L., Hipel, K. W., Kilgour, D. M., & Wang, L. (2020). “Uncertainty Modeling in the Graph Model for Conflict Resolution.” IEEE Transactions on Systems, Man, and Cybernetics: Systems, 50(1), 82-92.
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Deoclécio Paiva de Castro

Ph.D student in Economics
M.Sc in Mathematical Optimization Modeling and Quantitative Methods
B.Sc in Industrial/Production Engineer