SOCIETAL: SOCIAL MEDIA

Imagine and visualise a debate that you’ve just had on stage at the Cheltenham Literature Festival concerning a neat little modern conundrum: ‘Is social media the curse of our age?’ Imagine, too, that you and your fellow panellists have agreed that it probably is. In this scenario, should you, or should you not, tweet about it?

We would assume that people normally would. But maybe you would be unsure. What would be your motivation? Would you be publishing an event that you’d found fascinating? Quite likely. Or would you just be craving the sort of “like”-induced serotonin surge you and your fellow panellists had just been talking about, given your addiction to social media networking? What demons were ruling you? What damn tech tricks made you feel that you ought?

And so it goes viral after comments from the Festival audience stick with you. The young woman who saw social media as the vector of the eating disorder she suffered from as a teenager, but who now was using social media platforms to rebuild her sense of self-worth. The older man who, after tweeting in support of Boris Johnson’s comments on burkas, had been shocked to find himself subject to an onslaught of fury, including people trying to get him sacked. Or, another man, say, active on platforms but tired of competing with screens for attention and convinced that the world around him was narcissistic and utterly crazy.

There might be a sense of social media acting the heavy beast squatting upon all our shoulders, forever seen in the corner of an eye. It might also be an overdue reminder that your own thoughts about all this can get a little lofty. Yet, we could trot out the gotcha about the billionaire moguls who run these platforms banning their own children from using them, even while marketing them to yours. We could talk for hours about the damage being done to the fabric of our democracy.

For most people, however, concern about social media has nothing to do with any of that. Instead it is about obsession and compulsion. It is about self-worth and self-harm. It is about friends and relatives developing new violent politics that seem to have come from nowhere. It is about teenagers living their lives as a constant performance on apps that their parents barely comprehend, for audiences that they can scarcely imagine. It sits in the lives of many as an ever-grinding mill of misery, even when they cannot imagine life without it, and they feel that something must be done.

EARLIER this year the Government let it be known that it was working on a white paper of proposals to tackle the nebulous business of online harm. Matt Hancock, then culture secretary, declared that Britain was to become “the safest place in the world” to be online. You’ll maybe understand the urge of ministers and can probably see where this is going: “something must be done”. But does this rule out making anyone less fearful?

In some areas, certainly, legislation is desirable and overdue. Criminal hate speech, libel, grooming, copyright violation, fraud and violent radicalisation are all areas that technology companies should be taking far more seriously. We really should have no objection to them being forced to do so. Likewise, there is growing evidence that the chemical hits of serotonin, dopamine and adrenaline that drive online behaviour creates a dependency culture, in the manner of nicotine or cocaine. The notion of a cigarette packed-style warning on your Snapchat or WhatsApp might seem ludicrous today but it could become a necessary measure to help improve physical and mental wellbeing.

The pervasive public miseries of social media, though, are more low level. They involve not hate speech but vitriol and nastiness; not extremism but political polarisation; not libel but rudeness and disrespect. Not grooming, even, but sexualisation. They involve, in other words, forms of speech that today are free and uninhibited, and where the government almost certainly plans to make less free.

Who will complain? Feel the way the wind blows. The public sees a harm and worries about it. Paradoxically the users of social media are increasingly censorious, blocking undesirables and avoiding certain platforms. In parliament, the very bedrock of democracy, you have a cohort of MPs radicalised against popular free speech by some 100 tweets a day threatening rape or murder, or by calling them traitors or fascists.

Many will wish that social media giants should be policing themselves more effectively, yet simultaneously doubt they ever will. Tell those same people that the state ought to do it instead and they will balk, hard. You will remember the instinctive illiberalism of so many politicians in the Leveson battles over press regulation. You might be feeling it is coming back.

Next time, when it’s those hated tech behemoths who pilfer the revenues from traditional media organisations, will even the press be prepared to put up a fight? They must. Like it or not, what was true with the press is even more true for social media. Except in areas of outright criminality, liberal democracies do not curb your freedom of expression. They may fret about it, lambast it, implore others to close their ears. Yet the moment they shut it down they are liberal no more.

This fight is coming. It is likely to be ugly and all the nicest people will be on the wrong side. Trolls, those ugly creatures who once lived under bridges, now reside right behind the screen you’re looking at. Prowl they will. But you have a choice.