Marbles, waiting for a little direction as to what to do next. (Pepperberryfarm/Flickr)
Why does centralization have an impact on speech? Would decentralization help?
Centralized networks are often controlled by singular entities. For example, in the BBS example I gave earlier, that’s one person in charge of that setup, and the only thing stopping that guy from being a jerk is his own personal compass.
The equation grows more complicated as more entities get involved.
I have another example, and it involves the network that became AOL. (I mentioned this story last year.) In the mid-1980s, AOL was called Quantum Link, and it had a significant user base of LGBTQ users. However, the company’s service primarily used Commodore 64-based computers, and one of the resellers of the popular computer pressured Quantum Link to shut down its alternative lifestyle groups in deference to the reseller, which had Christian beliefs. Quantum Link complied, creating a bad environment for the network’s previously welcomed LGBTQ community.
In a decentralized network, this would never happen. Instead, if you want to block off certain types of information you find controversial, you might need to set up a filter. (Think Net Nanny.) The onus would be on the user—or, say, their ISP—to prevent the connection to the decentralized resource.
Years later, this problem has become more pronounced, as most of our prominent digital resources represent centralized hubs that we interact with on a regular basis. Like our theoretical BBS sysop of yore, the benevolence of the people running it ultimately decides the final result.
However, even they at some point needed some clarification. A key legal measure, at least in the United States, is called Section 230, a portion of the Communications Act of 1996 which specifically carves out room for centralized network operators to prevent liability for the actions of users in most cases. It’s often mistakenly believed by observers that Section 230 prevents websites from being moderated; the truth is, it actually gives them the right to moderate, by allowing for the operators of social networks to manage their networks as they see fit. (The law came about after a decision involving the early online network Prodigy and the company that was featured in the movie The Wolf of Wall Street, Stratton Oakmont.)
The thing is, social networks are generally owned by companies, just as brick-and-mortar retail stores are owned by companies. If someone behaves poorly in the retail location, the retailer is within their right to remove that person from the location—after all, that person could scare away future customers. (Think “no shirt, no shoes, no service,” and you’re on the right track.)
If you wanted to have a totally free network, you would need to basically build a network that was disconnected from any sort of external influence. Any advertiser or publisher or user can influence how Facebook or Twitter operates, limiting just how “free” the network operates in practice. If an advertiser doesn’t want to run their ads next to hate speech, Twitter is compelled to stop hate speech on its network; if users raise concerns about cyberbullying, Facebook is theoretically compelled to create solutions to stop cyberbullying from spreading.
Those who complain about Section 230 or that their freedom is being limited by the social networks they use are effectively disagreeing with the status quo, which generally favors the companies and the existing network effects that have been built. They basically want networks where the people who operate them keep their hands off—which is difficult to promise. After all, social networks have stakeholders.
On the other hand, those who want a more regulated experience—say, because their kids are using it, or because of concerns about cyberbullying or hate speech—face the opposite problem. Social networks have become so complex that no one organization can stop everything; the best they can do is create better algorithmic filters or safety measures to protect users.
