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Doctorow’s Verdict: AI Hype Meets Harsh RealityCory Doctorow frames his latest book as a warning‑shot at the AI industry’s relentless push to monetize automation at the expense of workers. Using vivid analogies, he argues that the promise of a collaborative “centaur” model has been subverted into a “reverse centaur” where machines dominate and human roles are reduced to cheap oversight. The Book’s Core Argument: Reverse Centaurs and the AI Business ModelThe central metaphor contrasts a true centaur—human plus machine working together—with a reverse centaur—human labor stripped down to monitoring drones. Doctorow cites examples such as radiology, where AI either augments doctors (costly) or replaces them, leaving humans to merely verify outputs, a cheaper but riskier approach. Valuation Numbers and Market Projections Cited in the ReviewOpenAI is described as a “grossly overhyped and terrible firm” despite a market value of $852 bn.Morgan Stanley predicts AI could add almost $1 trillion a year to the S&P 500.Studies show 90 % of consumers avoid products labeled AI‑enabled and 95 % of generative‑AI pilots fail. Why the AI Backlash Is Shaping Public Perception and PolicyPublic sentiment is turning hostile: a Pew Research poll finds a majority expect AI to harm jobs, creativity and relationships. High‑profile incidents—such as Eric Schmidt being booed at a university commencement—illustrate the growing distrust of AI evangelists. Doctorow links this backlash to anti‑capitalist anger rather than pure technophobia. What the Review Suggests About the Future of AI Investment and RegulationDoctorow warns that the AI sector’s bubble is fueled by inflated price‑to‑sales ratios and the desire to keep investors excited. He predicts a potential economic shock comparable to 2008‑2020 if the hype collapses, and calls for a shift from “inevitabilism” to a model where workers can unionise and demand fair terms. The book urges critics to target the flow of investment capital rather than the technology itself.

Just a decade ago, cord‑cutters imagined a utopia where any game could be streamed on any device for a single, affordable price. Today, that vision has morphed into a bewildering web of platforms, blackouts and fees that strain even the most devoted fans. Major League Baseball illustrates the chaos. The Yankees’ local market now requires fans to juggle seven different providers, from traditional broadcasters to Apple TV and niche apps. A season‑long Gotham Sports App pass costs $119.99, while Amazon’s Prime Video charges $14.99 per month (or $139 annually) for exclusive rights to 21 Wednesday games. Netflix, at $19.99 per month, aired the opening‑night matchup between the Yankees and Giants. Adding these together, a die‑hard fan could face a bill of roughly $800 to watch every Yankees game this year, according to a calculation by The Athletic. Even Apple’s own streaming chief, Eddy Cue, admitted the market has regressed: “You used to buy one subscription, your cable subscription, and you got pretty much everything they had. Now, there’s so many different subscriptions, so I think that needs to be fixed.” MLB commissioner Rob Manfred proposes centralising local rights by 2028, hoping to curb the splintered landscape. Yet legacy broadcasters and tech giants continue to chase lucrative deals. The NBA’s recent 11‑year, $76 billion media contract with Disney/ESPN, Amazon and NBC underscores how high the stakes have become. Rights fees are increasingly volatile. ESPN reportedly paid $550 million annually for Sunday Night Baseball, only to see MLB strike a $10 million per‑year deal with Roku for the same slot. Netflix is said to spend $50 million per season for three years to air marquee events such as Opening Night and the Home Run Derby. The NFL, the most valuable league, embraces fragmentation as a revenue strategy, distributing games across CBS, Fox, NBC, ESPN/ABC, Prime Video, the NFL Network, YouTube and Netflix. By packaging boutique game bundles for streamers, the league extracts “significantly more money” beyond its core media rights. Beyond cost, the viewer experience is eroding. In‑game advertising now blankets pitches and ice rinks, while “hydration breaks” at the World Cup will feature mandatory ad slots. Streamers counter with ad‑free premium tiers, but those come at a premium comparable to airline baggage fees. Financial pressures are evident. Peacock added 44 million paying subscribers in Q4 2025, yet reported a staggering $552 million loss, largely due to expensive NBA and NFL rights. Dazn, another global sports streamer, has accumulated billions in operating losses since launch. Industry analysts warn that over‑commercialisation could alienate casual viewers, especially younger audiences with shrinking attention spans who prefer short‑form clips on platforms like TikTok. As Anthony Palomba of the University of Virginia notes, “The prospect of watching a three‑hour game versus getting bite‑sized highlights on TikTok is difficult.” Data‑driven, AI‑powered programmatic ads promise higher monetisation, turning moments—like Steph Curry’s game‑winning three‑pointer—into instant shopping opportunities. Amazon, for example, leverages its ecosystem to track the full consumer journey from view to purchase. One potential remedy is a consolidated “one‑stop‑shop” that bundles multiple sports feeds, aiming to reverse the so‑called “enshittification” of streaming services—a term coined by Cory Doctorow to describe platforms that sacrifice quality for profit. While nostalgia for the era of a single cable package persists, experts caution against romanticising the past. As former NBA commentator Jon Lewis observes, “The old days were complicated in their own ways; today’s challenge is to balance revenue with a sustainable, fan‑friendly experience.”