There's a causal relationship between the decline of real-life social infrastructure and the shift toward toxic online communities.
I've always loved the Internet: I've learned new skills, made online friends, and tons more. But as we build apps for everything, we can't let the physical world decay. Our current focus on convenience over thoughtfulness and quantity over quality is a short-sighted one.
Even if technology saves us time and money now, no one actually wants to live in a world without social infrastructure.
Social infrastructure describes public, physical places that bring diverse people together in a shared space. Examples might be parks, libraries, malls, and public transit. It also includes busy sidewalks, popular coffeeshops, and school sports teams.
In places like these, people — especially kids — are socialized. They interact with people of all ages and diverse backgrounds. Some people might speak a different language, and many have private rituals different than their own. But public space requires people to create shared cultural norms in order to participate.
Examples of unwritten public norms:
Keep the peace and be courteous.
Say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.' Don't stop in the middle of the sidewalk.
Watch out for your and others' safety.
Look both ways before you cross. If a random girl acts like you're best friends, go along with it — some dude is probably bothering her.
Actions have consequences, even without rigid rules.
If you hit a stranger, you'll get hit back. You have a reputation to uphold.
When you interact with different people, you naturally become more tolerant; after all, you have to in order to survive. This phenomenon is sociologically and psychologically verified: the contact hypothesis demonstrates how face-to-face exposure between different groups creates lasting tolerance. That's why cities and colleges make people more accepting!
Unfortunately, these places have been in decline for several decades. Team sports are becoming too expensive for the middle and lower class; library attendance is trending down; and young people aren't even going to parties as much!
The rise of digital technology has done two big things to social life:
Apps have formalized and commodified relationships that used to be informal. Examples include Uber for carpooling, Care.com for babysitting, and Rover.com for dog walking. These services make our everyday lives convenient, saving time and money, and have useful applications when you're new to town or disabled.
At the same time, there are negative side effects to this convenience.
First, tech means we are less likely to get to know our neighbors. Or as Robert D. Putnam would put it, people are investing less in social capital: the relationships we build based on an expectation of reciprocity. We used to get to know our neighbors or other parents at school because those networks provided lawn-mowing, parenting advice, and recommendations on local restaurants. Today, apps can do all of those things — often better than a human can. Apps cannot, however, provide companionship and emotional support like humans do.
Second, these services often create a servant class of gig workers that perpetuates racial and social inequality. A key tenet of contact theory is that all actors must be on a relatively equal playing field to induce empathy and tolerance. But when gig workers are disproportionately low-income people of color who serve the white and wealthy, these services ingrain stereotypes instead of erasing them. Yes, they might promote some interaction— but only for the five minutes the worker is helping you.
So if people are spending less time in social infrastructure, where are they going instead? Often, it's the Internet. And the digital world, while wonderful, remains an insufficient substitute for real-life interaction.
In anarchic spaces like 4chan and gaming chats, there aren't many incentives to create shared cultural norms. Online, users don't gain the empathy of seeing someone's facial expression, the impetus to protect their reputation, or the embarrassment of being scolded. There are no playground parents or shopkeepers monitoring safety, or gently scolding those who act out of hand. Even if one account becomes known for trolling, users can always spawn many more.
Many sites cope with these behaviors with content moderation. But much like people resist the police as an intrusive, oppressive force, site mods are treated the same way — especially if appointed by site admins. Reddit CEO Steve Huffman described how users of alt-right subreddit /r/The_Donald reveled in sticking their nose right up to the official rules, going as far as they could to be obnoxious without violating them. Facebook has long struggled with misinformation like the anti-vaxxer movement, unsure how to balance user freedom with public safety.
In both cases, attempted moderation led to more virulent us-versus-them movements. Members of these groups then retreated into increasingly niche (and dangerous) platforms such as 8chan, which originated the El Paso shooter manifesto. I don't think deplatforming was the wrong decision — research shows it's an effective tactic — but perhaps more real-life interactions with reasonable people could have balanced the extremism people were exposed to online.
Technology is not to blame: instead, tech has tapped into and perpetuated an existing failure of our social institutions.
How might we repair social life? I want to continue celebrating vibrant online spaces. They remain invaluable to marginalized people, niche hobbyists, and curing boredom. More crucially, though, I want investment (public and private) in amazing social infrastructure that people want to go to, so they don't spend time on 8chan instead.
I'm betting on a return to the local. I believe we'll hit Peak Screen, want to dine with friends again, and walk down busy city streets. It isn't natural, healthy, or sustainable to mediate every interaction through an app.
And while millennials might be adept at maintaining both online and offline social circles, younger generations who grew up on the Internet might not have that socialization. We've noticed that many mass shooters are prejudiced white men, but it's no surprise that they're also disproportionately young. Finally, I'm excited about startups and organizations building social infrastructure (e.g. Manny's SF, The Wing), online services facilitating authentic IRL connections, and there are so many other ideas we haven't yet seen. If you're creating something in this space — or curious about my half-baked ideas — let's chat!
In the meantime, people designing digital communities can learn from the work and principles of urbanists. I always thought that cities were platforms anyway.
(last updated: 8/8/2019)
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