Perhaps the most existential question regarding the Web’s future is what could turn the tide against online toxicity? The rise of horrific speech, terrorism recruitment, cyberbullying and all other manner of toxicity has undermined the initial advances the Web made in granting a voice to the formerly voiceless. Much has been made of the Web’s ability to transform Dr. Jekylls into Mr. Hydes, bringing out the worst in ordinarily level-headed individuals and turning even teachers and professors into raving founts of hate. The Web’s anonymity has frequently been cited as a root cause of this transformation from in-person congeniality to online hate monger, raising the question of whether replacing the digital world’s anonymity with real-world personas would restore digital civility or make things worse?
Twitter has in many ways become the public face of online toxicity. While there are many reasons for this such as its broadcast nature, one driving factor is its reliance on anonymous user accounts in which hateful individuals can hide behind the protective cloak of an anonymous username.
In contrast, LinkedIn, with its focus on accounts that directly tie users back to their real-world identities, including schools, employers and professional connections, is far less associated with toxic discourse.
Twitter’s anonymity is equivalent to a protest march in which participants are wearing masks to shield their identities. LinkedIn is the equivalent of everyone wearing name badges and the logos of their employers and schools on an identifying vest.
This connection between online persona and real-life identity mirrors the mediating influence connectedness once had through the geographic ties of community. In the physical world that predated the Web, community reigned supreme, whether on the scale of a small town, an urban neighborhood or a professional society. Members knew each other and had deep ties established through friendship, family, schools, workplaces, social organizations and other connections. This meant that even when community members disagreed, there were costs to deviating from civil discourse. Two neighbors might vehemently disagree about politics, but their physical proximity and need for mutual cooperation typically overruled emotional irrational impulses.
I disagree. This analogy is false.
It’s more like you’ve come to my house for a party. You notice all the cameras outside the hose, and a few inside the house. I tell you that I have recording devices in my living room.
You express your discomfort but I’ve told you that the devices are staying. I’ve told you that you are free to leave at any time. But yet, you decided to hangout in my lounge complaining to all my guests about how I should offer more vegan options.
It’s my house. It’s my party. Please leave if you don’t like the house rules. You need my permission to stay. You can choose to leave any any time.
I think the author is conflating privacy and anonymity.
Nitin, I enjoyed the article. I can see that you put careful thought into his writing.
I would have liked for you to expound on this one point.
Just recently an Instagram replacement was kickstarted. It took a long while to get it to the bare minimum it needed to fund successfully.
I think you were referring to Bokeh, which has 229 backers and barely raised the minimum funds required. Why, if we (a collective we) believe that the multitudes are looking for an alternative, was it so hard to raise money?
In contrast, the Peak Design travel tripod Kickstarter has 14,493 backers and raised ten times their funding. Presumably, a travel tripod for helping photographers create images is more important to more people than an alternative social media platform for sharing those images.