“It is really important that steering, acceleration, braking, gear shifting, lights, wipers, all that stuff which enables you to actually drive the car, should be tactile,” says [Steven] Kyffin, who once worked on smart controls for Dutch electronics company Philips. “From an interaction design perspective, the shift to touchscreens strips away the natural affordances that made driving intuitive,” he says. “Traditional buttons, dials, and levers had perceptible and actionable qualities — you could feel for them, adjust them without looking, and rely on muscle memory. A touchscreen obliterates this,” says Kyffin. “Now, you must look, think, and aim to adjust the temperature or volume. That’s a huge cognitive load, and completely at odds with how we evolved to interact with driving machines while keeping our attention on the road.”

Kottke often posts something and says exactly what I’d like to have said about it. But this one feels pulled from my own mind, almost word-for-word. I decided against going meta on the hypertextual nature of the editorial, to let it speak for itself, and keep my series of posts yesterday focused on the election itself. But now I can’t resist. Writing for the web came pretty naturally for me. But that’s because reading on the web also came naturally to me. But nothing builds muscles like exercising them regularly. And now, 20+ years into writing Daring Fireball, I don’t really think of writing in hypertext as a special form of writing. It’s just writing. It’s non-hypertext writing that now feels slightly weird to me. Limiting. It’s not that different a thing, being able to link words within one’s prose to other pages on the web. But it is different. Being able to apply italics or boldfacing to words is somewhat more expressive than being limited to un-styled plain text. Talented writers don’t need italics, but they can make good use of it if it’s available.1 Being able to add hypertext links to certain words is like that, but so much more powerful. Italic and bold emphasis are information-density additives. But as Kottke observes, used deftly, hypertext links are an information-density multiplier. The way I’ve long thought about it is that traditional writing — like for print — feels two-dimensional. Writing for the web adds a third dimension. It’s not an equal dimension, though. It doesn’t turn writing from a flat plane into a full three-dimensional cube. It’s still primarily about the same two dimensions as old-fashioned writing. What hypertext links provide is an extra layer of depth. Just the fact that the links are there — even if you, the reader, don’t follow them — makes a sentence read slightly differently. It adds meaning in a way that is unique to the web as a medium for prose. What made the Times’s editorial stand out to me, like a clarion jolt, was not just that it was so simultaneously incredibly thorough yet remarkably brief, but that the Times just doesn’t write like that very often. When they produce things that are web-exclusive or clearly intended first and foremost for consumption on the web, it tends to be interactive multimedia, like their famous presentation of John Branch’s “Snow Fall” in 2012. If anything, in their prose, the Times — like most longstanding publications rooted in print — is generally stingy with links. Reading this 110-word/27-link firecracker of an exhortation to end the Trump era wasn’t just pleasing to my reading ear, it was like hearing a beautiful song sung by a voice — that of the Times editorial board — that I can only recall heretofore having spoken. I didn’t know they could sing, let alone sing like that. It also brought to mind how social media has largely kneecapped true hypertextual writing by not enabling it. You can, of course, add links to web pages in social media posts on any of the various basically-the-same-concept-as-Twitter platforms like X, Threads, Bluesky, or Mastodon2, but you do so by pasting raw URLs into posts. (Instagram, by far the world’s most popular such social network, doesn’t even let you paste hyperlinked URLs into the text of posts.) The only links that work like web links, where readers can just tap them and “go there” are @username mentions. On social media you write in plain un-styled text and just paste URLs after you describe them. It’s more like texting in public than writing for the real web. A few years ago these social networks (and private messaging platforms like iMessage and WhatsApp) started turning URLs into “preview cards”, which is much nicer than looking at ugly raw URLs. But it’s not the web. It’s not writing — or reading — with the power of hyperlinks as an information-density multiplier. If anything, turning links into preview cards significantly decreases information density. That feels like a regression, not progress.

Both these pieces are so good, I just had to point to them and add my own stance: link often, and link generously. Writing on the web is not like print, where too many citations can feel interruptive. On the web, it is just part of the visual vocabulary. It encourages a more expansive tapestry where references can be used for more than just acknowledging source material. One can also point to definitions, tangential pages, or jokes. The hyperlink is among the singularly magical elements of the web. The Times is among the worst offenders for not crediting others’ past reporting by linking to it. You will notice every one of the links in its paragraph is to another Times story, which makes sense in this context. (It would be perhaps slightly more powerful if each was to a different publication to capture the breadth of this uniquely odious man, but then the Times runs the risk of pointing readers to something outside its known editorial context.) In other reporting, there is simply no excuse for the Times to not link to someone else’s preceding work. Link often, link generously.