The unbearable lightness of quitting Facebook
On Monday, I’d finally had enough. I logged out of Facebook, removed it from all of my devices, and deactivated my account.
Just two days in, I still twitch. The fingers still type “fac…” as a default when I open the browser. I still swipe back to the first page of apps on the phone, looking for the familiar blue one with the white F that isn’t there. I take a picture of my dogs and think, where the hell am I going to put this now?
I’ve had friends smarter than me weigh in on the balance at play here. Dr. Jeremy Littau, a professor at Lehigh University who writes and teaches about social media and community, wrote about his concerns and advice as part of considering a “slow-motion breakup” with Facebook. Jen Reeves, a digital explorer and trainer who has been on the front line of social media since it’s been a thing, wrote about why she’s staying, but why she would consider leaving.
But ultimately, we all have to make our own decision. I made mine, and it was a hard one.
You see, I like Facebook. While I was a bit of a late adopter — I joined up in 2009, after finishing my dissertation — I quickly got drawn into the potential of the platforms. With three kids, I could share their pictures and our parenting adventures easily with family and friends, and I could see their families grow as well. I got plugged into an academic community both there and on Twitter that grew into a strong network of friends and colleagues. I used Facebook as the basis of a research agenda in law and social media, one that started with some student journalists asking if they could use a photo they found on Facebook in print, which turned into a blog post, then a law review article, and ultimately a book that’s now in its second edition. I’ve been an advocate of social media use by journalists to connect and build audiences, trying to discourage fear of the platforms and even apologizing for some of the missteps these companies have had as they’ve taken shape in our current media landscape.
I think that’s largely because I believed them when they made mistakes. I presumed they were acting in good faith. Even if I’ve long taught my students that, as we all know, if you’re not paying for the product, then you’re the product, I didn’t suspect suspicious motives on behalf of Facebook. I thought they really were trying to make the world a better place as they made themselves richer and richer. I thought they weren’t amoral. Even if they did business with a fascist enterprise like Cambridge Analytica, a mistake in the first place, I thought they would fix things when they found out that CA was abusing the data access they had, and they wouldn’t wait months to dismiss CA from the platform, until The Guardian and The New York Times called them out.
So, the choice — stay or leave? I’ve seen it said that leaving Facebook is a privilege, “too big to delete” as Emily Dreyfuss put it in Wired a year ago. Or it’s an option that is only available to “a bunch of bros”. I agree, it’s a privilege that I can walk away, but I don’t feel a lot of shame in quitting something that is fundamentally bad for society, even if it has some good bits. I know what I’m walking away from, and it’s not something I want to do. But if we are resigned to the idea that We Need Facebook, then Facebook has no incentive to change. Why would they?
The only power users have is through collective action. I argued this in the conclusion to an article about privacy issues in live-streaming platforms such as Periscope and Facebook Live a few years ago; the only way to change is for users to demand it.
I am privileged — I can walk away, as much of a pain it is. I can also be an example to others that walking away from Facebook is possible. Even for a professor who teaches about social media. Even for a scholar who has centered his research on it for almost a decade now. I use my privilege to be a drop in the ocean, in hopes that maybe enough drops gather to make Facebook understand what it is giving up.
It’s not a practical, rational choice — I don’t feel like I’ve been targeted or harmed personally by Facebook’s action/inaction — as much as it is a moral one. Facebook turned a blind eye to people who want to tear the world down, made a half effort to correct things too late, and has stayed silent as the storm has swirled in recent days. I don’t have to choose to be a part of that. I no longer want to be Facebook’s product.
That said, I took a half measure. Why deactivate, rather than delete my account?
I think there’s potential for redemption here, though I’m not hopeful that Facebook will meet the conditions I’ve set. The company’s public inaction since the news about its behavior around Cambridge Analytica — which perhaps started as a story about neglect about third-party abuse of data but now appears to be more complicity and cover-up — has not inspired confidence.
Now, what can Facebook do to get me back on? First off, own up — you know you’ve gotten played by the worst of the worst, from Russians who want to undermine Western liberal democracies, to white nationalists who are rushing in to fill the void with their vile worldview. It’s OK for Facebook to make value judgments about the people with whom they do business.
Second, let’s hear it from Mark Zuckerberg and Sheryl Sandberg, not from faceless PR people. Your leadership seems more interested in their potential political careers (good luck with that, by the way) than being the face of one of the world’s most powerful platforms. Stop hiding. (Update: Zuckerberg made a statement this afternoon)
Third, take meaningful action against those who deceive you or abuse access to the data you sold them. And be transparent about that. Instead of, you know, pushing out your security staff that’s been telling you to own up to Russian manipulation.
Unfortunately, I think that’s going to take leadership change. The culture at Facebook has long resisted social responsibility. They haven’t had to take responsibility because they, just like the Facebook-quitter-critics admit, start from the principle that We Need Facebook.
We don’t. We need a good connection, communication, sharing and organizing platform that’s not evil. That is not Facebook right now. And until it is, I’m out.
