In his 1926 novel, The Castle, Franz Kafka encapsulates themes of alienation, lack of control, and enhanced feelings of individual powerlessness. The novel seems like a presentiment of a dystopian society governed by opaque contracts and algorithmic systems we barely understand. Yet at the same time, Kafka reveals possibilities to resist such elusive forces, embodied by the Land Surveyor K., who refuses to surrender to any of the castle’s authorities.

The unresolved tension between alienation and counteraction in The Castle presents itself as a literary allegory of struggles between what is visible and what is invisible, between those who govern and those who are governed, and between what is distant and what is proximate. In other words, the themes of the novel go to the heart of social struggles in the platform society.

***

It’s not straightforward to answer the question: What is a platform? To put it bluntly, there is no waterproof definition of a platform. Platforms define themselves based on what they want you to think that they are. Yet there is another question is even more difficult to answer: Where is a platform? What is the geography of a platform, and how does it shape labour relations? Platforms are not stand-alone, monolithic entities. Instead, they are hybrid networks of networks, designed in one place and embedded in multiple places at the same time.

Platforms do not make geography obsolete, they make use of geography.

In South Africa, for example, Uber was able to avoid a legal challenge by workers; not because the workers had no valid claim, but because they made it against Uber South Africa rather than Uber International Holding(s) BV, a Netherlands-based company.[1] In this case, the platform immunised itself against legal claims by South Africa-based workers, who are unlikely to take up their case in a Dutch court.

In addition to operating at different spatial scales from their workers, platforms also mask their spatial embeddedness by bringing complex networks of contractors and subcontractors into being. If you sign a contract to deliver parcels for a small Amazon subcontractor in rural Austria, to what extent do you work for Amazon? You’re a part of Amazon’s planetary-scale machinery – being directed by ever-more efficient algorithms of Amazon Prime’s supply chain optimisation – but you’re not actually contractually related to the platform. Is this platform work or something else?

Platforms do not make ‘the firm’ obsolete, they make use of firms.

Fairwork’s research around the world shows that clear contracts, as well as transparent terms and conditions, available in languages that workers are able to understand, can make an enormous difference for many workers. The party contracting with the worker must be subject to local law and must be identified in the contract.

In some cases, especially under ‘independent contractor’ classifications, workers carry a disproportionate amount of risk for engaging in the contract. Workers may be liable for any damage arising in the course of their work, and they may be prevented by unfair clauses from seeking legal redress for grievances. It is thus paramount to push for contracts that do not include clauses which exclude a platform’s liability for negligence nor unreasonably exempt the platform from liability for working conditions.

After all, unlike the Land Surveyor in The Castle, the millions of digital workers worldwide are not isolated individuals. While Kafka’s novel reflects a blueprint of ruinous social structures that systematically decompose collective solidarity and glorify the rule of the castle as a divine necessity, the trajectories of the platform society are not inevitable. Collaboratively, workers, unions, academics, and policymakers possess the power to shift the status quo for the better.