Online / Offline

I celebrated my 50th birthday last weekend (just go with it). It’s a milestone and an opportunity to reflect, which I do … too much. In the past 50 years, there may have been more technological innovation and disruption than in the previous 500. The year my parents divorced, I spent the summer with my dad in Chicago. On weekends, we’d journey to his downtown office, where I could use the WATS line (ask a Boomer) to call my mom. Long distance calls were $4/minute. Well worth the hour long train ride.  

If the cycle time of innovation keeps contracting, we may register even greater changes in the next 15 years. The net-net of a jump to lightspeed in innovation is a mix of unprecedented prosperity and danger, as godlike technology will collide with paleolithic instincts and medieval institutions.  

Dinosaurs

Sixty-six million years ago, an asteroid the size of Everest slammed into Earth. The impact unleashed an apocalyptic chain of events that changed the global ecosystem, extinguishing dinosaurs and setting the stage for Homo habilis (i.e., us). When a natural ecosystem changes, predators and prey adapt, or they die.  

Thirty years ago, the internet slammed into our information ecosystem. The internet is bigger and more devastating than the Chicxulub impactor (note: Awesome name for a boy band). Chicxulub didn’t kill off the dinosaurs immediately; it took about 30,000 years before the last Triceratops drew her final breath. Newspaper revenue peaked in 2005 and has since declined 80%; traditional TV’s revenue has been halved since streaming began. To call legacy media “dinosaurs” is not fair to dinosaurs. The new apex predators (tech platforms) have evolved from amoebas to Tyrannosaurus rexes since the debut season of Law & Order. How we ingest and digest the information that shapes our views and actions is changing, as are we.

Asshole

I’m a better person offline: friendlier, more likely to find common ground. Online, I am defensive and angry, as I’m constantly having to battle bots, anonymous trolls, and people arguing in bad faith. And most people are a lesser version of themselves online.  

Why the Jekyll and Hyde act? The frictionless experiences created by the digital revolution make it easy to post harmful content without thinking first. Social media companies have experimented with moderation tools that warn users before they post something damaging, but the idea hasn’t caught on. We dislike the coarseness of online culture, but we hate friction. And, just as there are cues to be civil offline (e.g., traffic signs, handicap parking), the corporate titans of today have discovered that while sex sells, rage addicts. Their algorithms elevate content that’s incendiary and novel (i.e., bullshit). If only there was a way to exonerate them from the externalities of the emissions their users are belching into society, which are (in my view) more damaging than carbon? But wait, there is … Section 230.

Take Off That Mask

Halloween is my favorite holiday. Something about getting to wear a wig — and a green light for women to dress like sluts works for me. I tend to get drunk and behave more outrageously than society would accept, say, during midday on a Wednesday in February. The guys who dumped British tea in Boston harbor dressed up like Native Americans as a mis-direct to dodge accountability. The men behind the Declaration of Independence signed their names as they had the courage of their convictions.

Anonymity’s value has been exaggerated for the benefit of the tech incumbents, who don’t want to be held responsible for the damage their firms’ actions cause. We’re more likely to post inflammatory/defamatory content when we know there are no consequences. As a famous 1993 cartoon in the New Yorker put it, “On the internet, nobody knows you’re a dog.” Today the caption would read, “On the internet, nobody knows you’re the asshole.” 

Telegram

Imagine I own a hotel. The Scott boasts a California king in every room, James Perse pajamas, a decent pool scene, a dog park, and a taco truck that never closes. It’s also a nexus for terrorism, child exploitation, and illegal arms sales. In the analog, extremely offline world, The Scott would be shut down and Scott Galloway imprisoned. But our idolatry of the dollar and innovators has shapeshifted into an Iron Dome intercepting all incoming accountability hurling toward “emerging platforms.” If it’s digital, then it’s speech and immune. The least greatest generation (tech bros) have convinced the media and lawmakers that their crimes are … speech. And not subject to the same standards as similar activity in the offline world. 

Telegram is a communications platform with public channels, private chats that can be encrypted, and self-deleting messages. One billion people use it. The Russian military uses it on the battlefield in Ukraine. Activists against the governments in authoritarian countries use it. At one point, Telegram was the app of choice for ISIS. Recently, it’s become the go-to platform for domestic terrorists. It’s also a must-have for criminal networks. Telegram, which advertises itself as a free speech platform that doesn’t moderate content, was instrumental for the right-wing groups that organized race riots in the U.K. this summer.

Consequences?

Last month, French authorities arrested Telegram CEO Pavel Durov. The charges included allegations that the platform is used to distribute child sexual abuse material and facilitate drug trafficking, and that it refused to share information with investigators as required by law. These are serious allegations, and if proven, Telegram and its CEO will be punished. That shouldn’t be controversial. But as soon as news of Durov’s arrest broke, he was crowned a free speech martyr by Silicon Valley’s usual suspects. This isn’t about speech, but our decision to elevate billionaires, and the platforms that made them billionaires, to deities.  

Free Speech

Frequently, the internet’s most intractable problems hit a free speech dead end. Last week, 42 state attorneys general called on Congress to mandate warning labels for social media, citing a surgeon general report detailing the link between social media and anxiety and depression in teens. Reporters, activists, and parents, including me, have highlighted this issue for years. But it’s unlikely we’ll see a warning label, as social media companies will deploy lobbyists, lawyers, and publicists to innovation-wash (i-wash) their criminality. Tying it to economic growth, free speech, youth, and a general sense that to constrain them would be wrong — or worse, European. 

When thousands of Americans were dying every day during the pandemic, public health officials asked social media platforms to remove misinformation about Covid-19. This was immediately framed as a conspiracy to control people. Balancing public health and civil liberties is never easy. In some cases, public health officials overreached; in others, social media platforms voluntarily complied and likely saved lives. Ultimately, the Supreme Court ruled in the government’s favor, though the decision was made on procedural grounds. But what should’ve been a free society’s shining moment devolved into a melée of conspiracy theories, publicity stunts, and disingenuous accusations of censorship.

Earlier this year, sexually explicit AI-generated images of Taylor Swift went viral. One image posted on X was shared 24,000 times and received 45 million views. Deep fakes make the problem of revenge porn worse — but revenge porn achieved scale long before Taylor Swift became a victim. In the U.S., 49 states have laws against such behavior. But at the federal level — where it counts — efforts to criminalize revenge porn, or at least empower victims to seek civil remedies, have consistently stalled because of First Amendment concerns. What would happen if pornographic AI-generated images of Taylor Swift were shown on televisions, in movie theaters, or in any other lame medium run by boomers?

Responsibility

Censorship is a problem in a free society, but it’s nowhere near our biggest problem, and it’s become a mis-direct from the greater perils we face. We are raising the most obese, addicted, anxious generation in our nation’s history. But censorship … that’s the real threat? Give me a fucking break. Cries of censorship are a tell for someone who won’t shut up and is EVERYwhere. Our society has adopted a generally accepted myth that being offended or crying “censorship” means you are right. No, it just means you are offended and have become allergic to people pushing back on your bullshit.

A much bigger threat is the belief that the internet, and its zealots, is all freedom, zero responsibility. 

Perhaps that sentiment is an echo of John Perry Barlow’s 1996 essay A Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace. Barlow, a techno-libertarian who co-founded the Electronic Frontier Foundation, wrote, “Governments of the industrial world, you weary giants of flesh and steel, I come from Cyberspace, the new home of mind. On behalf of the future, I ask you of the past to leave us alone. You are not welcome among us. You have no sovereignty where we gather.” Barlow’s essay came in response to the passage of the Telecommunications Act of 1996, or what’s known today as Section 230. 

Immunizing online platforms from third-party speech excused media platforms from the scrutiny, accountability, and citizenship we demand from other media companies. 

But it’s a false premise to suggest freedom is at odds with responsibility. It’s not. The freedoms we enjoy are a function of the responsibility embraced by people who see themselves as part of something bigger. When Durov was arrested there was a cacophony of catastrophizing from the tech set, who don’t want to give up their laminated stay-out-of-jail cards. “This will send a chill throughout the tech world,” lamented billionaire tech figures. Yes, winter is coming. And it’s a good thing.  

Life is so rich, 

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