From Messages to Tools: From Storytelling to Story-Making
Words by Pau Aleikum, edited by Jaya Bonelli
For years, at Domestic Data Streamers, we’ve dedicated ourselves to storytelling — transforming abstract data into emotionally resonant experiences. Through exhibitions, installations, documentaries, campaigns and digital platforms, we’ve championed what we call “New Data Languages”: ways of representing quantitative information to trigger empathy and understanding.
Stories can capture and dazzle us, and they can have the capacity to open eyes, challenge biases, and spur action. But as we’ve matured, so has our understanding of what it means to engage with information in a world overwhelmed by it. In the last years, we’ve been adding to stories a new challenge: building tools.
Stories are powerful because they make us feel, organizing information in an easily palatable, memorable narrative structure. Tools, however, can enable us to think, question, and act in ways that create new stories altogether. This shift, from storytelling to tool-making, isn’t just a technical pivot — it’s a philosophical one. It challenges us to reconsider how we interact with knowledge, who controls narratives, and how we might design systems to empower more equitable relationships with information. So more than anything, going from stories to tools equates to a transition from content and matter to the overarching structure and form, the fundamental bases that allow us to build everything from scratch, according to one’s own rules, and creativity.
The Evolution of New Data Languages
New Data Languages were born out of a simple yet profound realization: how we present information shapes how we perceive it. Data is not just about numbers; it’s about the lives, systems, and complexities those numbers represent.
This idea draws on Ludwig Wittgenstein’s proposition that “the limits of my language mean the limits of my world.” By expanding the languages we use to convey data — moving beyond text and charts to include soundscapes, interactive visuals, and tactile experiences — we expand the boundaries of our understanding. This, in turn, can enable us to mentally conceive and apprehend the data within ideas, events, problems, and more, beyond their mere abstract statistical aspects.
When we presented The Sea, The Widest Border, an exhibition aboard the Open Arms rescue boat, our goal was to humanize a story too often lost in overwhelming numbers and statistics. We hoped visitors would leave with a fresh perspective on migration, fully aware that the way we framed the experience would shape their interpretation. The very context of situating the exhibition inside a Mediterranean rescue boat was crucial — data needs texture, and the granularity of human experience grounds abstract figures in reality. Every surface of that boat bore witness to the hardships endured: the roughness of the sea, the thousands of traces left by those rescued, and the haunting absence of those who were not. In crafting a physical artifact of visualization, we inevitably embed a perspective; we fold additional layers of data into the data itself, introducing an intentional distortion that challenges the sterile, clinical statistics that might otherwise claim objective truth. Through this distortion, we seek to shift perception and, in doing so, confront an essential ethical question: if we design how information is presented, what responsibility do we bear for the interpretations it provokes? Understanding is never neutral — every act of interpretation carries the imprint of the interpreter’s biases and worldviews.
This means that as creators of new ways to build language using data, we must grapple with the ethical implications of the lenses we offer to the millions of visitors, partners and clients that we work with. A way to explore this space of power has been to make new questions emerge: could we go beyond presenting information to empowering people to interact and engage with it beyond our representation? Rather than telling people what and how to think, what if we built the ideal environment in which they would and could think, thus developing this intellectual autonomy we seek to foster? Could we create tools that not only tell stories but help others generate their own perspectives? This is a path we are starting to run with the aim of overcoming our own disciplinary limitations.
This is where tools can go further. A well-designed tool, unlike a story, doesn’t just deliver a perspective; it invites users to construct their own. It opens up the possibility for dialogue, reflection, and self-discovery. In other words — using an old cliché — instead of giving someone a fish, or even telling them a really moving story about a fish, we can hand them the rod and let them cast their own line. Tools, in this sense, offer the possibility of power change.
From Storytelling to Story-Making
Take, for example, Skeptic Reader, a Chrome plugin we developed to enhance critical thinking. This tool doesn’t just highlight misinformation; instead, it actively guides users to question sources, analyze claims, and assess the framing of news articles on their own, rather than accepting pre-selected conclusions. By embedding a moment of critical thought into the digital routines of its users, Skeptic Reader empowers them to construct their own informed narratives, rather than passively consuming others’. Hence the name — being skeptic is to question, recognizing limits and searching, for and by oneself, for one’s own answers — a call to stay on your toes, rather than quietly accept spoonfed narratives and others’ opinions.
Precisely, one of the most pressing questions in information ethics today is how to move from an economy of consumption to one of agency. Philosopher Jaron Lanier, in Who Owns the Future?, argues that our current digital systems commodify human behavior, reducing individuals to data points that feed predictive algorithms. Tools like Skeptic Reader resist this commodification by encouraging users to reclaim their cognitive agency.
In designing such tools, we confront another ethical dilemma: how much agency is enough? If a tool becomes too prescriptive, it risks creating its own biases. If it’s too open-ended, it may fail to guide users meaningfully, and their biases might override. This tension reflects what Hannah Arendt described in The Human Condition as the balance between freedom and responsibility. Especially towards the younger generations — it is crucial to inculcate a moral sense of responsibility, an ethical framework: tools must provide structure without stripping users of their autonomy.
Similarly, Synthetic Memories, our method for reconstructing visual cultural heritage, is another step toward tools that enable new stories. Designed to digitally rebuild fragmented or destroyed cultural artefacts, this method and set of tools doesn’t just preserve history — it invites communities to engage with their heritage, adding layers of interpretation and meaning. It shifts the conversation from “What was lost?” to “What can we rebuild together?”
Moreover — scaling impact is a natural aspiration for any toolmaker, but it comes with ethical concerns — for example, if Synthetic Memories were not governed by transparent ethical guidelines, it could easily be misused to sanitize or manipulate cultural heritage. Power is inherently tied to knowledge, tools that process, analyze, and present data wield power over how that data is understood. The challenge, then, is ensuring that such tools distribute power equitably, rather than reinforcing existing hierarchies.
Scaling Empathy and Understanding
Stories move hearts; tools move systems.
The shift toward tool-making isn’t about abandoning storytelling — it’s about amplifying its impact and the reach we can have. A story, no matter how powerful, has a natural limitation: its audience. Tools, on the other hand, are required to grow, adapt, and evolve as they’re used. They can scale empathy, broaden understanding, and democratize access to information in ways that even the most compelling narrative cannot achieve alone.
One of the most exciting possibilities of tool-making is scale. A story can reach its audience, but a tool can grow, boundlessly, almost, with its users. Jaron Lanier precisely also argues that digital systems too often centralize power, creating “siren servers” that exploit data for profit. Tools like Skeptic Reader and Synthetic Memories aim to counteract this trend by decentralizing agency — the action taken out by the user is not reified or reused for some external purpose, but rather valued as such. Thus, these tools enable users to build their own relationships with data, rather than relying on pre-packaged narratives.
Furthermore, the ethical shift from stories to tools is not only about scalability, but it’s also about responsibility. A single story can inspire a single individual, but a well-designed tool can empower thousands to create their own narratives. This multiplicative effect demands that we design tools not only for usability but for equity. It requires us to factor in collective responsibility from the very start — fostering an ethics-first approach to design.
Imagine a world where every journalist has access to tools that contextualize their reporting, highlighting systemic issues behind breaking news. Or a platform where public health workers can create their own visualizations of community data, fostering trust and collaboration with those they serve. These tools don’t replace stories — they improve them, giving countless individuals the power to create, share, and understand narratives in ways that can be more deep and personal.
Of course, crafting tools comes with a certain realization and questioning that, as you are no longer the one in control of the stories, what can happen when someone uses these tools for something you believe could be wrong or harmful? This is the biggest debate in the studio around crafting tools — how can we ensure they are not used in harmful ways?
Tools as the Future of Data Relationships
Our move toward tool-making represents a commitment to creating not just content but infrastructure. Tools like Skeptic Reader and Synthetic Memories are only the beginning.
Stories will always be central to our work, but tools have the potential to transform the way stories are created, shared, and understood. Together, they form a symbiotic relationship: stories inspire tools, and tools create new stories.
Tools like Skeptic Reader and Synthetic Memories represent our first steps into this space, but they’re just the beginning. The goal isn’t to create tools for the sake of innovation — it’s to build tools that help people understand the world better and connect with it more deeply.
In a world increasingly dominated by algorithms and misinformation, this symbiotic approach is not just a creative challenge — it’s an ethical imperative. Tools that democratize access to information and foster critical engagement are more than a design goal; they are a societal necessity.
As Hannah Arendt reminds us, “The world lies in between people, and this in-between — much more than (the people themselves) — is the world.” Tools, like stories, are part of this in-between. They are bridges, connecting us to data, to each other, and to the possibilities of a better future.
References:
- Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Translated by D. F. Pears and B. F. McGuinness. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1961.
- Jaron Lanier, Who Owns the Future? (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2013)
- Arendt, Hannah. Men in Dark Times. New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1968.
