Perspectives: The Participant. First-hand stories from people who have worked in the value chain. Participant no. 2 is Sølvi Marie Fjeldstad.

We had created an interior concept for a company whose main business is fruit and vegetables. Green was the main colour. Furniture that echoed foliage, a coat rack shaped like a tree and natural materials inspired by nature filled the screen in the meeting room. We presented it with energy and enthusiasm.

Then one person in the project group said: “I don’t like green.”

We were a little taken aback. Then we smiled, asked whether there was anything other than the colour they wanted to discuss, and promised a new proposal shortly.

It was not the first time green had taught me something about people.

The wall that never turned green

Another time, a woman walked into my office. She was almost finished renovating a two-storey apartment and only wanted help finding the right shade of green for a wall that ran through both floors.

She never got a green wall. The green was her answer to an apartment that felt very black and white.

It was the start of a relationship that has lasted many years. And it is the most important thing I have learned in my work: what people ask for is not always what they need.

A plan in a few minutes

More and more people come to me with a plan already in hand. They have asked an AI and received a furniture layout and a shopping list in a few minutes. Some of it is good. Some of it would fall apart long before they moved in.

I recognise an old feeling. The first time, I was sitting in the foreign exchange department of a bank on 17 January 1991, in the middle of the Norwegian banking crisis. The same day, King Olav died and the bombing of Iraq began. It was a bit much all at once. I felt it again during the financial crisis and during the pandemic. And now, with AI, came the question: What is my expertise worth when a machine can do parts of my job?

The worry is not unfounded. The World Economic Forum expects changes in the labour market to affect 22 percent of all jobs by 2030. More new jobs will be created than lost, but graphic designers, one of the creative professions, are now also on the list of the fastest-declining jobs.

At the same time, I see what AI does well. The beautiful illustrations used to come late in a project. People nodded, but pictured their own mix, and every round of “that’s not how I imagined it” cost time. Now I can show AI-generated images of my idea for their room in the very first meeting. When I use the tools myself, I also learn where they go wrong: the sofa that does not fit, the light that only works in a rendering.

Before the first line is drawn

The machine answers what you ask. My work begins before that.

I have no signature style to sell. My job is to read and interpret what people like and who they are. Some need reassurance, others need to be challenged. That holds true in every part of life: as a business owner, as a team player in my spare time, as a colleague, as a mother and as a teacher.

Since the meeting about green, we always put at least two proposals on the table. Even when we have fallen in love with one of them. That way people take part in the decision, instead of just saying yes or no. And when someone disagrees, I first ask myself: do they dislike the solution, or have I failed to explain it? Many people find floor plans hard to read. If they understand the proposal and still want something else, I respect that. They are the ones who will live there.

Want to try something similar in your own field tomorrow? Set your own taste aside before you meet people. Start with questions, not with the solution you already have in mind.

“They are the ones who will live there.”

She didn’t ask for a drawing

A woman I had helped with her house got in touch when her family wanted to move to an apartment. She sent me property listings and wrote: “You know me and how we live today. What are the pros and cons of this one?”

We kept going like that until she found the right one. Then we renovated that one too.

What she asked for was not a drawing. It was the knowledge of how she lives, gathered over years, held by someone she trusted.

Who collects the rent?

When I walk through a room and make suggestions, the order moves on: to the people who make the sofa, the tiles and the lamps. Furniture chains offer a free room plan so they can sell you the furniture. The robot vacuum maps your rooms while it cleans. The plumber and the electrician install smart systems that stay in the house and send data onwards.

Everyone wants into our homes. But what do we get back?

My home is something suppliers should be competing to get into. What do I get? And what does the person get who helped me understand my home and created it together with me?

In Norway we have a long tradition of the basement flat, the hybel, rented out to a lodger. Today many of us have a new kind of lodger: one who never signed a lease, never pays rent and quietly sublets the room.

What if we turned it around? A proper tenancy has a contract. You decide who moves in and what they get access to. And you can give notice. When it comes to data, consent is the lease.

I believe a day may come when the data from our homes gives something back. Something we can spend on making our homes better, and something for the professionals who help us understand them. One household alone has little bargaining power. Many together is a different conversation.

The fourth room

In 2000, two colleagues and I started an interior design firm. We called it 4 Rom, four rooms. There were only three of us, but the fourth room was meant to stay open for the people we brought in project by project: architects, photographers, artists. Most of our work came through word of mouth, from people recommending us to people they trusted. Today I run the company on my own.

During the financial crisis, I landed a job with a company that was investing while everyone else was cutting back. I asked them straight out: “Can I do what you do?” I was looking for opportunities. Each time, something new has opened up for those willing to look for it.

Value is still created between people. We knew that when we left the fourth room open. What is new is that our data is part of that value, and that this time we can have a say in where it goes.

So what are you already renting out, and who is collecting the rent?

The fourth room is still open. For everyone who has something to contribute, and that is all of us.

Sølvi Marie Fjeldstad is an interior architect and managing director of 4rom Interiørdesign AS, and head of interior design studies at NKI. With a background in banking, elite sport and teaching, guidance is the common thread in everything she does.

Editor’s note: What Sølvi describes is one perspective on what DARA calls the Participation Economy: that those who create value with data, knowledge and daily activity can see what they contribute, decide how it is used and receive a fair share of the value it creates. Sølvi Marie Fjeldstad is a contributor to DARA. This is an opinion piece. It is not sponsored.

Sources:

• World Economic Forum, Future of Jobs Report 2025

Perspectives: Deltakeren. Førstehåndsfortellinger fra mennesker som har arbeidet i verdikjeden. Deltaker nr. 2 er Sølvi Marie Fjeldstad.

Vi hadde laget et interiørkonsept for et firma som driver med frukt og grønt. Grønt var hovedfargen. Møbler som minnet om bladverk, en knaggrekke formet som et tre og ekte materialer med naturen som inspirasjon fylte skjermen på møterommet. Vi presenterte med iver og entusiasme.

Så sa én person i prosjektgruppen: «Jeg liker ikke grønt.»

Vi ble litt satt ut. Så smilte vi, spurte om det var andre ting de ville diskutere enn fargen, og lovet et nytt forslag innen kort tid.

Det var ikke første gang grønt lærte meg noe om mennesker.

Veggen som aldri ble grønn

En annen gang kom en kvinne inn døra på kontoret mitt. Hun var nesten ferdig med å pusse opp en leilighet over to etasjer, og ville bare ha hjelp til å finne riktig grønnfarge til en vegg som gikk gjennom begge etasjene.

Hun fikk aldri noen grønn vegg. Grønnfargen var hennes motsvar til at leiligheten føltes veldig black & white.

Det ble starten på en relasjon som har vart i mange år. Og det er det viktigste jeg har lært i jobben: det folk ber om, er ikke alltid det de trenger.

En plan på noen minutter

Stadig flere kommer nå til meg med en plan allerede i hånden. De har spurt en KI og fått en møbleringsplan og en innkjøpsliste på noen minutter. Noe av det er bra. Noe av det ville falt sammen lenge før de rakk å flytte inn.

Jeg kjenner igjen en gammel følelse. Første gang satt jeg i valutaavdelingen i banken, 17. januar 1991, midt i bankkrisen. Samme dag døde kong Olav, og bombingen av Irak startet. Nå ble det litt mye på en gang. Jeg kjente den igjen under finanskrisen og under pandemien. Og nå med KI kom spørsmålet: Hva er kompetansen min verdt når en maskin kan gjøre deler av jobben min?

Bekymringen er ikke grunnløs. World Economic Forum regner med at endringer i arbeidsmarkedet vil berøre 22 prosent av alle jobber innen 2030. Det blir flere nye jobber enn det forsvinner, men grafiske designere, et av de kreative yrkene, står nå også på listen over yrkene som krymper raskest.

Samtidig ser jeg hva KI gjør godt. Før kom de flotte illustrasjonene sent i prosjektet. Folk nikket, men så for seg sin egen miks, og hver runde med «jeg så det for meg annerledes» kostet tid. Nå kan jeg vise KI-genererte bilder av min idé for deres rom allerede i første møte. Når jeg bruker verktøyene selv, lærer jeg også hvor de tar feil: sofaen som ikke får plass, lyset som bare fungerer i en rendering.

Før den første streken

Maskinen svarer på det du spør om. Jobben min starter før det.

Jeg har ingen stil jeg selger inn. Jobben min er å lese og tolke hva folk liker og hvem de er. Noen trenger trygghet, andre trenger å bli utfordret. Det gjelder i alle deler av livet: som bedriftseier, som lagspiller på fritiden, som kollega, som mamma og som lærer.

Etter møtet om grønt legger vi alltid minst to forslag på bordet. Også når vi har forelsket oss i det ene. Da er folk med og bestemmer, i stedet for bare å si ja eller nei. Og når noen er uenige, spør jeg meg selv først: liker de ikke løsningen, eller har jeg ikke klart å forklare den? Mange synes det er vanskelig å lese en plantegning. Forstår de forslaget og fortsatt vil ha noe annet, respekterer jeg det. Det er de som skal bo der.

Vil du prøve noe av det samme i din bransje i morgen? Legg fra deg din egen smak før du møter folk. Start med spørsmål, ikke med løsningen du allerede har i hodet.

«Det er de som skal bo der.»

Hun spurte ikke etter en tegning

En kvinne jeg hadde hjulpet med huset, tok kontakt da familien ville flytte til leilighet. Hun sendte meg boligannonser og skrev: «Du kjenner meg og hvordan vi lever i dag. Hva er pluss og minus med denne?»

Slik holdt vi på til hun fant den rette. Så pusset vi opp den også.

Det hun spurte etter, var ikke en tegning. Det var kunnskapen om hvordan hun lever, samlet over år, hos noen hun stolte på.

Hvem tar imot leien?

Når jeg går rundt i et rom og kommer med forslag, går ordren videre: til dem som lager sofaen, flisene og lampene. Møbelkjedene gir deg gratis tegning av rommet, så de kan selge deg møblene. Robotstøvsugeren kartlegger rommene mens den suger. Rørleggeren og elektrikeren legger inn smarte løsninger som blir liggende i huset og sender data videre.

Alle vil inn i hjemmet vårt. Men hva får vi tilbake?

Hjemmet mitt er noe leverandørene burde kjempe for å komme inn i. Hva får jeg? Og hva får den som hjalp meg å forstå hjemmet mitt, og som skapte det sammen med meg?

I Norge har vi lang tradisjon for hybelen i kjelleren. I dag har mange av oss en ny hybelboer, en som aldri signerte noen leiekontrakt, aldri betaler husleie, og som i det stille fremleier rommet.

Hva om vi snudde det? En ordentlig utleie har en kontrakt. Du bestemmer hvem som flytter inn og hva de får tilgang til. Og du kan si opp. Når det gjelder data, er samtykket leiekontrakten.

Jeg tror det kan komme en dag da dataene fra hjemmet gir noe tilbake. Det kan bli noe vi kan bruke på å gjøre hjemmet bedre, og noe til fagfolkene som hjelper oss å forstå det. Én husholdning alene har lite å forhandle med. Mange sammen er en annen samtale.

Det fjerde rommet

I 2002 startet jeg et interiørfirma sammen med to kolleger. Vi kalte det 4 Rom. Vi var bare tre, men det fjerde rommet skulle stå åpent for dem vi tok inn prosjekt for prosjekt: arkitekter, fotografer, kunstnere. Det meste av arbeidet kom via jungeltelegrafen, folk som anbefalte oss til folk de stolte på. I dag driver jeg selskapet alene.

Under finanskrisen fikk jeg et oppdrag hos et firma som satset mens alle andre strammet inn. Jeg spurte dem rett ut: «Kan jeg gjøre det dere gjør?» Jeg så etter muligheter. Hver gang har noe nytt åpnet seg for den som var villig til å se etter det.

Verdien skapes fortsatt mellom mennesker. Det visste vi da vi lot det fjerde rommet stå åpent. Det nye er at dataene våre er en del av den verdien, og at vi denne gangen kan være med og bestemme hvor den går.

Så hva leier du allerede ut, og hvem tar imot leien?

Det fjerde rommet står fortsatt åpent. For alle som har noe å bidra med, og det har vi alle.

Sølvi Marie Fjeldstad er interiørarkitekt og daglig leder i 4rom Interiørdesign AS, og fagansvarlig for interiørfag ved NKI. Med bakgrunn fra bank, toppidrett og undervisning er veiledning den røde tråden i alt hun gjør.

Redaktørens merknad: Det Sølvi beskriver, er ett perspektiv på det DARA kaller deltakerøkonomien: at de som skaper verdi med data, kunnskap og daglig aktivitet, kan se hva de bidrar med, bestemme hvordan det brukes, og få en rettferdig del av verdien. Sølvi Marie Fjeldstad er bidragsyter i DARA. Dette er et meningsinnlegg. Det er ikke sponset.

Kilder:

• World Economic Forum, Future of Jobs Report 2025

Perspectives: The Participant. First-hand stories from people who have worked in the value chain. First up is Tove Kirkeng.

Norway, 1999. A Canadian entrepreneur opened his laptop in front of a small group of us and showed one of the first e-commerce platforms I had ever seen. People could buy directly, with no one in between.

Several in the room remembered a letter in Dagens Næringsliv from 1996, headlined “Internett en flopp!” (The internet is a flop!). It was easy to listen through that filter. But I was a shoe agent, one of those in between, and this was about me. If I wanted to be in business in the future, I had to change.

It took far longer than I expected. Back then, change moved in years. Today it moves in weeks and days.

But that day I understood something I have never forgotten: the distance between those who make things and those who use them was about to shrink.

By then I had been in the shoe and fashion business for more than ten years. I had worked on the shop floor, at a wholesaler and in my own agencies, and followed products from collection to store. I had sat in every room of the value chain, the whole journey from an idea and a factory to a shop and someone’s home. And in every single room, I learned the same thing.

Value begins in a conversation

Value does not start in the factory. It starts in a conversation with a person.

What do they need? What do they like? What will they come back for? The best products I worked with were not the ones with the biggest marketing budgets. They were the ones where someone had listened.

That is why I was everywhere. I stood on the factory floor, and I stood in the shoe shops talking to the people trying on the shoes. I wanted to hear it myself, not wait for the message to travel from the shop to the agent, from the agent to the brand and from the brand to the factory. By then the season was often over. The person who will use the product decides. If we do not listen, it gets expensive for everyone.

Many years later, I found what I had learned on the floor described in the Lean Startup method and by one of my favourites, Steve Blank: get out and talk to people before you build.

The digital shift brought us closer

The internet changed that. E-commerce, and later the digitization of photography and everything that followed, pulled brands and people closer together. Suddenly a brand could hear directly from the people who used its products. And many began to trust each other more than advertising. A personal recommendation became worth more than a campaign.

Then recommending became a profession. Influencers and creators built audiences and were paid to share what they liked. The creator economy showed that what people say and share has a price.

That was the first sign of something important: people were no longer just at the end of the chain. They became part of it. Their opinions, their recommendations and their everyday choices created value.

But only a few got paid. For most of us, the value still did not flow back.

The problem we have all paid for

Those who gained most from the shift were the platforms. For years they placed themselves between all the links, between brands and shops and between shops and people. They owned the data and the relationships, and could push prices in both directions. Many of the links I had worked with disappeared. Mine too.

The result was cheaper goods, faster delivery and more of everything. Ultra-cheap online stores made it possible to buy almost anything for almost nothing. We got overconsumption, and the profits ended up with the platforms.

And beneath it all lay what frustrates me most about the value chain I have worked in all my life: overproduction.

We produce first and look for buyers afterwards. We guess. We make too much, in too many versions, and hope enough of it sells. What does not sell is marked down, stored or thrown away. The cost of all that guessing lands somewhere: on the planet, on the people who make the products, and in the prices the rest of us pay.

Now the whole line is changing at once

Every shift I have been part of changed one part of the value chain at a time. E-commerce changed how we sell. Digital photography changed how we show and share. Each time, value moved, and those who understood the timing were the ones who built what came next.

What is happening now is different. With AI, the whole line is changing at once. It affects how products are designed, produced, sold and followed up. And AI runs on something each of us produces every day: data, knowledge and activity.

That makes it possible to turn the line around. Instead of producing first and guessing, we can start with people, with what they actually need, use and value, and let that steer what gets made. Less waste. Better products. A value chain in balance again.

Human added value

AI can calculate a lot. But it cannot replace what I learned in the shoe shops: that value arises when people talk, trust each other and share what they know.

The more AI we get, the more that is worth. I call it human added value, the value only people can add.

And you have it, whether you are buying something or not.

A new room

I often think about that room in 1999. I understood that my own link in the chain was on its way out. And that something new was on its way in.

Today we sit in new rooms. At conferences and in meeting rooms, I hear it again and again: “Data is the new oil.” I have said it myself. But the longer I have lived with this shift, the more wrong it seems. Data is not oil. It is soil.

Oil has value in itself and gets used up. Data has no value until it is cultivated. But it never runs out. It renews itself every time we live, choose and share.

That is where sustainability lies. When what people know and choose is cared for and used well, we can know what is needed before we produce. Then we make what people actually want, and less of what ends up as waste.

And the soil is yours. Whoever cultivates it with you should share the harvest. That is not in place yet. But I know what it is like to sit in a room where the rules are about to change.

In 1999, I could have stayed in my seat, listening through the filter. I chose to change.

Now we are all sitting in a room like that. We can stay in our seats and watch. Or we can take part.

Your data has value. And it belongs to you.

Tove Kirkeng has worked across the value chain since 1985, from the shop floor and her own shoe agencies to distribution in Europe.

Editor’s note: Tove Kirkeng and DARA’s editor, Trond Slyngstad, are co-founders of a company in the participation economy. This is an opinion piece. It is not sponsored.

Source: The phrase “not the new oil, but the new soil” is borrowed from Ganesh Subramanian, Stylumia (2019).

Deltakerøkonomi (substantiv; engelsk: Participation Economy)

Deltakerøkonomien er en økonomi der de som skaper verdi med data, kunnskap og daglig aktivitet, kan se hva de bidrar med, bestemme hvordan det brukes, og få en rettferdig del av verdien det skaper. Her er folk ikke bare brukere eller datakilder, men deltakere.

Kort sagt: En økonomi der de som skaper verdien, får del i den.

Enkelt forklart: Hvis ringen, klokka eller appen din gjør søvnen og skrittene dine om til penger for noen andre, bør du kunne se det, si ja eller nei, og få noe tilbake.

Hva er de tre delene av definisjonen?

• Se. Folk kan se hva de bidrar med av data, kunnskap og aktivitet, og hvor det havner.

• Bestemme. Folk bestemmer selv hvem som får bruke det, til hva og hvor lenge. Å si nei er også et valg.

• Dele. Folk får en rettferdig del av verdien bidraget deres skaper: penger, kreditt, rabatter, bedre tjenester eller annen gevinst.

Hvordan ser det ut i praksis?

I dag: En smartring måler søvnen og pulsen din hver natt. Selskapet kan bruke dataene til å forbedre produktene sine, utvikle nye tjenester eller inngå forskningssamarbeid. Du får en søvnscore i appen.

I en deltakerøkonomi: Du ser hvilke data som forlater telefonen din, og hvem som mottar dem. Du sier ja til en søvnstudie ved et universitet, men nei til annonsører. Og når dataene dine er med på å skape et nytt produkt, får du noe tilbake: penger, lavere abonnementspris eller tidlig tilgang.

Er deltakerøkonomi det samme som å selge dataene sine?

Nei. Å selge data er ett mulig utfall, men definisjonen handler om mer enn en pris. Den krever innsyn (se), kontroll (bestemme) og en rettferdig gevinst (dele), og den gjelder kunnskap og daglig aktivitet, ikke bare data.

Hvorfor heter det «deltaker»?

Mye av den digitale økonomien behandler folk som brukere, kunder eller datakilder. Klikkene, skrittene, søvnen og hjerteslagene deres er med på å bygge produkter og selskaper, mens det meste av verdien havner et annet sted. Deltakerøkonomi beskriver skiftet mot å behandle folk som deltakere: med innsyn i hva de gir, en stemme i hvordan det brukes, og en andel av det det skaper.

Hvorfor er det viktig nå?

Stadig mer persondata kommer fra kroppen vår, via ringer, klokker, apper og hjemmetester. Samtidig begynner nye regler og nye forretningsmodeller å endre hvem som kontrollerer disse dataene, og hvem som tjener på dem. Det gjelder alle som bruker en aktivitetsmåler, en helseapp eller har en pasientjournal, og selskapene og de offentlige tjenestene som bygger på dataene.

Om DARA

DARA – The Participation Economy Forum skriver om hvem som kontrollerer persondata og hvem som tjener på dem, med særlig vekt på helse- og velværedata fra ringer, klokker, apper og hjemmetester.

Slik siterer du definisjonen

Slyngstad, T. / DARA – The Participation Economy Forum (2026). «Hva er deltakerøkonomi?» Versjon 1.0, 28. september 2026. https://daramag.substack.com/p/hva-er-deltakerkonomi

Sist oppdatert: 28. september 2026. Eventuelle endringer i definisjonen blir datert og listet her.

In English: What is the Participation Economy?

DARA lages med hjelp av KI. Les hvordan vi jobber på Om DARA-siden.

Participation Economy (noun; Norwegian: deltakerøkonomi)

The Participation Economy is an economy in which the people whose data, knowledge and everyday activity create value can see what they contribute, decide how it is used, and receive a fair share of the value it creates. In it, people are not just users or sources of data, but participants.

In short: An economy where those who create the value share in it.

Put simply: if your ring, watch or app turns your sleep and steps into money for someone else, you should be able to see it, say yes or no, and get something back.

What are the three parts of the definition?

• See. People can see what they contribute: which data, knowledge and activity, and where it goes.

• Decide. People decide how it is used: who gets access, for what purpose and for how long. Saying no is also a choice.

• Share. People receive a fair share of the value it creates: money, credits, discounts, better services or other returns.

What would it look like in practice?

Today: A smart ring measures your sleep and heart rate every night. The company may use that data to improve its products, develop new services or enter research partnerships. You get a sleep score in the app.

In a Participation Economy: You can see which data leaves your phone and who receives it. You say yes to a university sleep study, but no to advertisers. And when your data helps create a new product, you get something back: money, a lower subscription price or early access.

Is the Participation Economy the same as selling your data?

No. Selling data is one possible outcome, but the definition is about more than a price. It requires insight (see), control (decide) and a fair return (share), and it covers knowledge and everyday activity, not only data.

Why is it called “participation”?

Much of the digital economy treats people as users, customers or sources of data. Their clicks, steps, sleep and heartbeats help build products and companies, while most of the value ends up elsewhere. The Participation Economy describes the shift toward treating these people as participants: with insight into what they give, a say in how it is used, and a share in what it creates.

Why does it matter now?

More and more personal data now comes from our own bodies, through rings, watches, apps and home tests. At the same time, new rules and new business models are starting to change who controls this data and who benefits from it. It affects anyone who wears a tracker, uses a health app or has a patient record, and the companies and public services that build on that data.

About DARA

DARA, The Participation Economy Forum, reports on who controls personal data and who profits from it, with a special focus on health and wellness data from rings, watches, apps and home tests.

How to cite this definition

Slyngstad, T. / DARA, The Participation Economy Forum (2026). “What is the Participation Economy?” Version 1.0, 28 September 2026. https://daramag.substack.com/p/what-is-the-participation-economy

Last updated: 28 September 2026. Any changes to the definition will be dated and listed here.

På norsk: Hva er deltakerøkonomi?

DARA is made with AI assistance. Read how we work on the About DARA page.

The number: $1.21 billion

That is Oura’s revenue for the nine months to June 2026, according to recent disclosures — built on 3.6 million rings a year and a subscription that interprets what its users’ bodies produce every night. Wellness data is no longer a side feature. It is a business model.

1. The EU makes device data yours — by design

Since 12 September, the EU Data Act’s “access by design” rule applies to new connected products and services sold in Europe. Data a device generates must now be directly and automatically available to the user — no requests, no extra steps.

Why it matters: For wearables and health apps, this moves control of the data stream a step closer to the person producing it. But access is not the same as sharing in the value. The Data Act gives you the key to the room — not a share of what is earned inside it.

2. Apple wants to compete for your body data

Apple is developing a screenless, Whoop-style fitness band, Bloomberg reports. The project is still at an early stage, with no launch expected before 2028.

Why it matters: The largest consumer tech company in the world is moving further up the data hierarchy — from what you tap on a screen to what your body does around the clock. When the biggest platforms race for continuous wellness data, the question of who benefits from it gets more urgent, not less.

3. “Anonymised” health data is still leaking

New US state privacy laws restrict the sale of health app data, but a de-identification loophole remains: fitness and nutrition data stripped of names can still reach data brokers, Consumer Tech Wire reports. Privacy experts warn that a daily stream of meals, weight and location-tagged workouts is often re-identifiable.

Why it matters: If “anonymous” wellness data still has market value, it is being monetised — without the people who produced it seeing any of that value.

The DARA take

Rights to access our data are arriving. Rights to its value are not. That gap — between controlling your data and participating in what it earns — is where the participation economy will be decided. We will keep tracking it.

Sources: DIHK – Data Act from 12 Sept 2026 · Wilson Sonsini – EU Data Act deadline · 9to5Mac / Bloomberg – Apple screenless tracker · Consumer Tech Wire – health app data-broker gap

Browse every source we cite in the DARA Source Library. Work in this field and have a tip or a topic? Send us a message on Substack or reply to this email.

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Where the money went

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In 2024, Meta generated $270 in advertising revenue for every user in the United States. Not from selling products. Not from charging subscription fees. From selling access to the attention and behavioural profiles of its users to advertisers. The users themselves received nothing.

This was not unique to Meta. It was the operating model of the entire digital economy. Google, TikTok, X, and hundreds of smaller platforms were built on the same foundation: collect data about people, use it to build profiles, and sell those profiles to advertisers. The more data, the better the profiles. The better the profiles, the higher the price.

The result was one of the most concentrated transfers of economic value in modern history. Digital platforms now represent $24 trillion of the global economy — 21 percent of world GDP, according to the Platform Executive’s 2026 State of the Platform Economy report. That wealth was built primarily on data that people generated without compensation, often without a clear understanding of how it was being used.

What the data actually was

To understand why this happened, it helps to understand what “data” actually means in this context — because not all data is worth the same.

At the bottom of the value hierarchy sits attention data: the fact that you looked at something, clicked on it, scrolled past it. This is the oldest and cheapest form of digital value. Advertising platforms have traded in it since the early days of the internet.

Above that sits behavioural and purchase data: what you buy, when you buy it, what you search for before and after, how your spending patterns shift over time. This is worth considerably more, because it predicts future behaviour with much greater accuracy.

Then comes location data: where you go, how often, at what times, with whom. A phone that knows your daily movements knows more about your life than most people do.

Above that sits wellness data — the layer that is now becoming economically significant. Sleep patterns, movement, heart rate, nutrition, stress indicators, recovery. This data comes from wearables, health apps, and connected devices. It is continuous, personal, and detailed in ways that older forms of data were not. It sits between everyday behaviour and clinical health information, and it is the category that technology companies are now competing most aggressively to collect.

At the top of the hierarchy sits health and biomarker data: clinical records, genetic information, longitudinal biological measurements taken across years or decades. This is the most valuable category of personal data in existence. A dataset combining genetic profiles, health records, and continuous wellness tracking from a large population is worth billions — not because it can be sold to advertisers, but because it can be used to develop drugs, design interventions, and build AI systems that transform how medicine works.

Why the structure is cracking

For twenty years, the legal and regulatory environment allowed this system to operate largely unchallenged. That is changing.

The European Union’s Data Act came into full effect in September 2026. Among its provisions: every connected device sold in the EU must now make the data it generates accessible to the user who generated it — in real time, in machine-readable formats, free of charge. The maximum fine for non-compliance is €15 million. This is not a minor regulatory adjustment. It is a legal reframing of who owns device-generated data.

The World Economic Forum published a report in September 2026 calling explicitly for a rebalancing of the health data economy. Its argument was straightforward: patients and health systems bear most of the costs of generating health data, while the financial gains flow elsewhere. The WEF called this a structural problem requiring structural solutions.

At the same time, AI is creating new forms of economic participation that did not exist before. According to Menlo Ventures’ 2026 State of Consumer AI report, consumer spending on AI tools reached $40 billion in 2026 — up from $12 billion the previous year. Nearly half of active AI users are now earning income through AI in some form. The question of who gets paid, for what, and on what terms is becoming one of the defining economic questions of this decade.

The question this publication exists to ask

None of this resolves the underlying problem automatically. A legal right to access your data is not the same as participating economically in its value. A report calling for rebalancing is not the same as rebalancing.

But the conditions for something different are beginning to exist. The regulatory framework is shifting. The technology is changing what kinds of data can be collected, and what it is worth. And the question of economic participation — who benefits when a system learns from the activity of thousands or millions of people — is moving from the margins to the centre of the debate.

Whether that changes, how it changes, and who shapes the change — that is what DARA exists to track.

Sources: Platform Executive (2026) · Meta Investor Relations · Faegre Drinker / EU Data Act · World Economic Forum · Menlo Ventures

Browse every source we cite in the DARA Source Library.

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