My Facebook #DeletionDay goodbye message

Here's what I posted as my last long message to Facebook.


Folks, as previously announced, tomorrow will be my #DeletionDay for Facebook. It'll be the last day I'll post here, and I'll begin the process for the permanent removal of my account. (Among other things, I'll make a copy of my data and my friends list.) I'm sorry to those who want me to stay, but there are too many reasons to quit.

Let me explain again, more tersely, why I'm quitting.

You probably already know that I think this kind of social media, as fun as it undoubtedly can be, undermines relationships, wastes our time, and distracts us. I also agree, as one guy can be seen saying on virally-shared videos, that social media is particularly bad for kids. All I can say is, it's just sad that all that hasn't been enough for me (and most of us) to quit.

But in 2018, it became all too clear that Big Tech—which is now most definitely a thing—is cynically and strongly committed to using social media as a potent tool of political control, which it certainly is. They like having that power. For companies like Google, Facebook, and Apple, reining in wrongthink is a moral imperative. And they're doing the bidding of the Establishment when they do so. It's very scary, I think.

The only thing that gives them this awesome power over us and our free, voluntary conversations is that we have given them that power. But notice the thing that empowers them: we give them our data to manage. It's not really ours. They take it, sell it to advertisers, repackage it, and show it back to us in ways they control. And they can silence us if they like. That's because we have sold our privacy to them for convenience and fun. We're all what Nick Carr aptly called "digital sharecroppers." I now think it's a terrible deal. It's still voluntary, thank goodness; so I'm opting out.

Another thing is that I started reading a book called Cybersecurity for Beginners (no, I'm not too proud to read a book called that) by Raef Meeuwisse, after my phone (and Google account and Coinbase) were hacked. This finally opened my eyes to the very close connection between privacy and security. Meeuwisse explains that information security has become much more complex than it was in the past, what with multiple logins, multiple (interconnected) devices, multiple (interconnected) cloud services, and in short multiple potential points of failure in multiple layers.

[Adding now: Someone recommended, and I bought and started reading, another good privacy book called The Art of Invisibility by Kevin Mitnick. Mitnick is a famous hacker. Meeuwisse is a security professional as well. The Mitnick book is much more readable for savvy Internet users, while the Meeuwisse book is a bit drier and might be more of a good introduction to the field of information security for managers.]

The root cause of the increased security risks, as I see it (as Meeuwisse helped me to see), is our tendency to trust our data to more and more centralizing organizations (like Facebook, Microsoft, and Apple). This means we trust them not only to control our data to our benefit, but also to get security right. But they can't be expected to get security right precisely because social media and cloud services depend on *their* ability to access our data. If you want robust security, you must demand absolute privacy. That means that only you own and control your data.

If we were the gatekeepers of our own data (if it were delivered out of our own clouds, via decentralized feeds we control, as open source software and blockchains support), then we wouldn't have nearly so many problems.

Maybe even more fundamental is that there are significant risks—personal, social, and political—to letting corporations (or governments) collectivize us. But precisely that is what has been going on over the last ten years or so.

It's time for us to work a new technological revolution and decentralize, or decollectivize, ourselves. One reason I love working for a blockchain company is that we're philosophically committed to the idea of decentralization, of personal autonomy. But it's still early days for both open source software and blockchain. Much remains to be done to make this technology usable to grandma.

While we're waiting for viable (usable) new solutions, I think the first step is to lock down your cyber-life and help create demand by just getting rid of things like Facebook. You don't have to completely unplug from everything; you have to be hardcore or extreme about your privacy (although I think that's a good idea). You can do what you can, what you're able to do.

I won't blame or think ill of you if you stay on Facebook. I'm just trying to explain why I'm leaving. And I guess I am encouraging you to really start boning up on digital hygiene.

Below, I'm going to link to a series of relevant blog posts that you can explore if you want to follow me out, or just to start thinking more about this stuff.

Also, I hope you'll subscribe yourself to my personal mailing list, which I'll start using more regularly tomorrow. By the way, if you might be interested in some other, more specialized list that I might start based on my interests (such as Everipedia, education, libertarianism, or whatever), please join the big list.

Also note, especially if your email is from Gmail, you will have to check your spam folder for the confirmation mail, if you want to be added. Please move any mails from me and my list out of your spam (or junk) folder into your inbox so Google learns I'm actually not a spammer. :-)


There, that's me being "terse."


I joined a homeschooling legal defense association

Actually, I joined the Homeschooling Legal Defense Association (as a rank-and-file paying member). Authoritarianism is on the march, and while homeschooling has enjoyed a golden age in the last couple decades, having achieved both acceptance (even a measure of prestige) and legal freedom, I'm worried that that might be changing. It isn't any particular event, just the steady, low drumbeat of left-wing concern that people might be doing something with children that isn't closely monitored and controlled by the state. "How dare citizens educate their children independently?" they think. "Surely, the experts in our government-run education establishments know best. Why can't we be more like Germany and Sweden, which have superior public schools, while homeschooling is illegal?"

If people are becoming so ignorant or unsupportive of basic American civil rights and freedoms such as freedom of speech, the right to bear arms, Fourth Amendment privacy rights, and basic due process—depressing, isn't it?—then we can predict that, within the next five or ten years, a major push to control or even eliminate homeschooling will get under way in countries where it is still legal (such as the U.S., Canada, U.K., Russia (!), Poland, South Africa, and Australia).


How deep should one go into this privacy stuff, anyway?

Probably deeper than you thought. Here's why.

If you really want to lock down your cyber-life, as I am trying to do, there are easy options, like switching to Firefox or installing a plugin that blocks trackers. I've done that. Then there are more challenging but doable options, like switching your email away from Gmail. I've done that. Then there are the hardcore options, like permanently quitting Facebook. I will be doing that later this month.

And then, finally, there are some extreme, weird, bizarre, and even self-destructive options, like completely unplugging—or, less extremely, plunking down significant sums of money on privacy hardware that may or may not work—or that works, but costs a lot. As an illustrative example, we can think about the wonderfully well-meaning company Purism and its charmingly privacy-obsessed products, the Librem 13 and 15 laptops as well as the Librem 5 phone, which is due in April.

I'm going to use this as an example of the hardcore level, then I'm going to go back to the more interesting broader questions. You can skip the next section if it totally bores you.

Should I take financial risks to support the cause of privacy?

If I sound a little skeptical, it's because I am. Purism is a good example because, on the one hand, it's totally devoted to privacy and 100% open source (OSS), concepts that I love. (By the way, I have absolutely no relationship with them. I haven't even purchased one of their products yet.) Privacy and open source go together like hand in glove, by the way, because developers of OSS avoid adding privacy-violating features. OSS developers tend to be privacy fiends, not least because free software projects offer few incentives to sell your data, while having many incentives to keep it secure. But, as much as I love open source software (like Linux, Ubuntu, Apache, and LibreOffice, to take a few examples) and open content (like Wikipedia and Everipedia), not to mention the promise of open hardware, the quality of such open and free projects can be uneven.

The well-known lack of polish on OSS is mainly because whether a coding or editorial problem is fixed depends on self-directed volunteers. It often helps when a for-profit enterprise gets involved to push things forward decisively (like Everipedia redesigning wiki software and putting Wikipedia's content on the blockchain). Similarly, to be sure, we wouldn't have a prayer of seeing a mass-produced Linux phone without companies like Purism. The company behind Ubuntu, Canonical, tried and failed to make an Ubuntu phone. If they had succeeded, I might own one now.

So there is an interesting dilemma here, I think. On the one hand, I want to support companies like Purism, because they're doing really important work. The world desperately needs a choice other than Apple and Android, and not just any other choice—a choice that respects our privacy and autonomy (or, as the OSS community likes to say, our freedom). On the other hand, if you want to use a Linux phone daily for mission-critical business stuff, then the Librem 5 phone isn't quite ready for you yet.

My point here isn't about the phone (but I do hope they succeed). My point is that our world in 2019 is not made for privacy. You have to change your habits significantly, switch vendors and accounts, accept new expenses, and maybe even take some risks, if you go beyond "hardcore" levels of privacy.

Is it worth it? Maybe you think being even just "hardcore" about privacy isn't worth it. How deep should one go into this privacy stuff, anyway? In the rest of this post, I'll explore this timely issue.

The four levels

I've already written in this blog about why privacy is important. But what I haven't explored is the question of how important it is. It's very important, to be sure, but you can make changes that are more or less difficult. What level of difficulty should you accept: easy, challenging, hardcore, or extreme?

Each of these levels of difficulty, I think, naturally goes with a certain attitude toward privacy. What level are you at now? Have a look:

  1. The easy level. You want to make it a bit harder for hackers to do damage to your devices, your data, your reputation, or your credit. The idea here is that just as it would be irresponsible to leave your door unlocked if you live in a crime-ridden neighborhood, it's irresponsible to use weak passwords and other such things. You'll install a firewall (or, rather, let commercial software do this for you) and virus protection software.—If you stop there, you really don't care if corporations or the government spies on you, at the end of the day. Targeted ads might be annoying, but they're tolerable, you think, and you have nothing to hide from the government. This level is better than nothing, but it's also quite irresponsible, in my opinion. Most people are at this level (at best). The fact that this attitude is so widespread is what has allowed corporations, governments, and criminals to get their claws into us.
  2. The challenging but doable level. You understand that hackers can actually ruin your life, and, in scary, unpredictable circumstances, a rogue corporation or a government could, as well. As unlikely as this might be, we are right to take extra precautions to avoid the worst. Corporate and government intrusions into privacy royally piss you off, and you're ready to do something reasonably dramatic (such as switch away from Gmail), to send a message and make yourself feel better. But you know you'll never wholly escape the clutches of your evil corporate and government overlords. You don't like this at all, but you're "realistic"; you can't escape the system, and you're mostly resigned to it. You just want the real abusers held to account. Maybe government regulation is the solution.—This level is better than nothing. This is the level of the Establishment types who want the government to "do something" about Facebooks abuses, but are only a little bothered by the NSA. I think this level is still irresponsible. If you're ultimately OK with sending your data to Google and Facebook, and you trust the NSA, you're still one of the sheeple who are allowing them to take over the world.
  3. The hardcore level. Now things get interesting. Your eyes have been opened. You know Google and Facebook aren't going to stop. Why would they? They like being social engineers. They want to control who you vote for. They're unapologetic about inserting you and your data into a vast corporate machine. Similarly, you know that governments will collect more of your data in the future, not less, and sooner or later, some of those governments will use the data for truly scary and oppressive social control, just as China is doing. If you're at this level, it's not just because you want to protect your data from criminals. It's because you firmly believe that technology has developed especially over the last 15 years without sufficient privacy controls built in. You demand that those controls be built in now, because otherwise, huge corporations and the largest, most powerful governments in history can monitor us 24/7, wherever we are. This can't end well. We need to completely change the Internet and how it operates.—The hardcore level is not just political, it's fundamentally opposed to the systems that have developed. This is why you won't just complain about Facebook, you'll quit Facebook, because you know that if you don't, you're participating in what what is, in the end, a simply evil system. In other ways, you're ready to lock down your cyber-life systematically. It's only a matter of how much you can accomplish.
  4. The extreme level. The hardcore level isn't hardcore enough. Of course corporations and governments are using your data to monitor and control you in a thousand big and small ways. This is one of the most important problems of our time. You will go out of your way, on principle and so that you can help advance the technology, to help lock down everybody's data. Of course you use Linux. Probably, you're a computer programmer or some other techie, so you can figure out how to make the bleeding edge privacy software and hardware work. Maybe you help develop it.—The extreme level is beyond merely political. It's not just one cause among many. You live with tech all the time and you demand that every bit of your tech respect your privacy and autonomy; that should be the default mode. You're already doing everything you can to make that how you interact with technology.

In sum, privacy is can be viewed primarily as a matter of personal safety with no big demands on your time, as a political side-issue that demands only a little of your time, as an important political principle that places fairly serious demands on your time, or as a political principle that is so important that you devote a lot of time to it.

What should be your level of privacy commitment?

Let's get clear, now. I, for example, have made some changes that show some commitment. I switched to Linux, replaced Gmail, Chrome, and Google Search, and am mostly quitting privacy-invasive social media. The reason I'm making these changes isn't that I feel personally threatened by Microsoft, Apple, Google, and Facebook. It's not about me and my data, personally; I'm not paranoid. It's about a much bigger, systemic threat. It's a threat to all of us, because we have given so much power to corporations and governments in the form of easily collectible data that they manage. It really is true that knowledge is power, and that is why these organizations are learning as much about us as they can.

There's more to it than that. If you're not willing to go beyond moderately challenging changes, you're probably saying, "But Larry, why should I be so passionate about...data? Isn't that kind of, you know, wonky and weird? Seems like a waste of time."

Look. The digital giants in both the private and public sectors are not just collecting our data. By collecting our data, they're collectivizing us. If you want to understand the problem, think about that. Maybe you hate how stuff you talked about on Facebook or Gmail, or that you searched for on Google or Amazon, suddenly seem to be reflected by weirdly appropriate ads everywhere. They're, naturally, trying to influence you; they're able to do so because you've agreed to give your data to companies that aggregate it and sell it to advertisers. Maybe you think Russia was able to influence U.S. elections. How would that have been possible, if a huge percentage of the American public were not on Facebook? Maybe you think Facebook, YouTube, Twitter, and others are outrageously biased and are censoring people for their politics. That's possible only because we've let those companies manage our data, and we must use their proprietary protocols if we want to use it. Maybe you're concerned about China hacking and crippling U.S. computers. A big part of the problem is that good security practices have been undermined by lax privacy practices.

In every case, the problem ultimately is we don't care enough about privacy. We've been far too willing to place control of our data in the hands of the tech giants who are only too happy to take it off our hands, in exchange for "services."

Oh, we're serviced, all right.

In these and many, many more cases, the root problem is that we don't hold the keys—they do. Our obligation, therefore, is to take back the keys.

Fortunately, we are still able to. We can create demand for better systems that respect our privacy. We don't have to use Facebook, for example. We can leave en masse, creating a demand for a decentralized system where we each own and control how our data is distributed, and the terms on which we see other people's data. We don't have to leave these important decisions in the hands of creeps like Mark Zuckerberg. We can use email, mailing lists, and newer, more privacy-respecting platforms.

To take another example, we don't have to use Microsoft or Apple to run our computers. While Apple is probably better, it still places many important decisions in the hands of one giant, powerful company, that will ultimately control (and pass along) our data under confusing terms that we must agree to if we are to use their products. Because their software is proprietary and closed-source, when we use their hardware and services, we simply have to trust that what happens to it after we submit it will be managed to our benefit.

Instead of these top-down, controlling systems, we could be using Linux, which is much, much better than it was 15 years ago.

By the way, here's something that ought to piss you off: smart phones are the one essential 21st-century technology where you have no free, privacy-respecting option. It's Apple or Android (or the moribund Windows Phone). There still isn't a Linux phone. Wish Purism luck!

We all have different political principles and priorities, of course. I personally am not sure where privacy stacks up against the many, many other principles there are. But one thing is very clear to me: privacy is surprisingly important, and more important than most people think it is. It isn't yet another special, narrow issue like euthanasia, gun control, or the national debt. It is broader than those. Its conceptual cousins are broad principles like freedom and justice. This is because privacy touches every aspect of information, and digital information has increasingly become, in the last 30 years, the lifeblood of commerce, socialization, education, and much more. Whoever controls these things controls the world.

That, then, is the point. We should care about privacy a lot—we should be hardcore if not extreme about it—because we care about who has power over us, and we want to retain control over ourselves. If you want to remain a democracy, and if you don't want society itself to become an appendage of corporate and government mechanisms, then you need to start caring about privacy.

Privacy doesn't mainly have to do with hiding our dirty secrets from neighbors and the law. It mainly has to do with whether we must ask anyone's permission to communicate, publish, support, oppose, purchase, compensate, save, retrieve, and more. It also has to do with whether we control the conditions under which others can access our information, including information about us. Do we dictate the terms under which others can use all this information that makes up so much of life today, or does some central authority do that for us?

Whoever controls our information controls those parts of our lives that are touched by information. The more of our information is in their hands, the more control they have over us. It's not about secrecy; it's about autonomy.


Why is consciousness mysterious?

So why, precisely, is consciousness mysterious? What is it, anyway? My view on this, in short, is that the weirdness, the mysteriousness, of consciousness lies primarily in the fact that it is an event, an activity, which is a kind of property of the brain. Much of the ontological weirdness of consciousness stems from the fact that properties (and events) have the same sort of weirdness we puzzle over when we think about the problem of universals. Just as properties aren't things with spatial dimensions, so various mental events and properties aren't things with dimensions.

When people open up heads and examine brains, they should no more expect to see thoughts bouncing around than when they hold a ball in hand and expect to see the abstract properties of roundness or redness. You can only see the object which is round and red. Like the abstract roundness and redness that the ball exemplifies, thoughts aren't things. They are properties of a certain kind, i.e., they're events, they are happenings or goings-on.

Ah, you say, that's too quick. We can see instances of some properties and instances of some events, to be sure; we can see this ball's redness and that it's rolling. But, you cleverly add, there is no way anyone will ever perceive an instance of someone else's consciousness in the way the conscious person is aware of it. So consciousness is an unusual sort of property (or event), to be sure. I readily admit that. An outside observer can't observe consciousness going on in the way that the person who is conscious can. But that's because, unlike every other kind of property, we are familiar with mental or conscious properties through introspection. Introspection is part of our equipment. A ball can't (as far as we know) introspect and reflect on anything about itself. I can introspect and infer that you have similar thoughts, perceptions, and pleasures and pains to mine; but never will I, through introspecting, become aware of your thoughts, perceptions, and pleasures and pains. (That is, unless such a thing as "mind-reading" exists, which I doubt.)

Do we need to posit the existence of another ontological category (the irreducibly mental) in order to account for the "raw feels" or "qualia" of introspected consciousness? Well, no, we don't actually. We know through research into the brain that certain thoughts, perceptions, and pleasures and pains—and here it's hard to know what words to use—"are mapped onto" or "are caused by" or "have the underlying substrate of" certain sorts of brain events. If no perceptible brain events (of one sort), then no thoughts (of a kind); and if no thoughts (of that kind), then no perceptible brain events (of that sort). So when an MRI shows a certain area of the brain lighting up, you aren't seeing a memory, because a memory is known and understood, irreducibly, by introspection. You can see evidence that a memory is taking place, though. Sufficiently advanced brain science might even indicate what the memory is of. But our perception or apprehension of the brain event will still be different from the introspective experience of the memory, it will not be the same as its raw feel or quale.

If you insist that this means I'm a dualist, because I'm saying something is irreducibly introspective (or mental) after all, then I'll say that the irreducibility is similar to the irreducibility, again, of properties or events. It makes no more sense to say that a thought is some physical thing than that a property is a physical thing. It isn't a thing at all. It's a different ontological category, yes, but not because it's mental, but because it's an event (or a property).

Some part of the difficulty that some philosophers have with the mind-body problem, I'm convinced, is owing to a rather simple materialistic model of the universe: everything that exists is some physical object. But when you point out that there are, after all, physical properties, relations, events, sets or groups, etc., then they say, oh, well that's a different problem. At least they're all physical. Sure, but what makes them physical? That they are reducible to fundamental particles? Well, no. The color or weight or density of a rock is not reducible to fundamental particles, because properties can never be reducible to things. Properties are ontologically basic.

Once you start taking seriously the notion that there are a fair few (not an enormous number of) irreducibly basic concepts, concepts that cannot be semantically reduced, analyzed, or defined in terms of other things, then it becomes quite easy to say, "Well, mental properties are properties of bodies, because it's bodies that have such properties, but we (the havers of those bodies) are acquainted with such properties only via introspection."

If you have your wits about you, you will see another opening now. You will press me then to distinguish between the properties known by introspection versus those that aren't, or to define "introspection" without reference to some irreducibly mental feature. Maybe we could, armed with such a definition, invent a self-aware AI, or decide whether some AI really were self-aware.

To that I answer: that's a scientific, not a philosophical, question. It's a question about the brain, or about systems that share whatever feature brains have that makes them (sometimes) exhibit consciousness. I suppose brain science is getting closer and closer to an answer all the time. All a person can tell you is when he is conscious and of what he is conscious (and notice, if he's telling you that, then not only is he conscious of something, he is introspecting that he is conscious of it). Then a scientist, wielding these reports, can gather the MRI (or whatever) evidence that is needed to see what distinguishes the brain events that are accompanied by consciousness (and introspection) from those that aren't.

So when someone like Daniel Dennett (a philosopher I read before he was famous and cool) declares that consciousness doesn't exist, my reaction is to say that it's an overreaction to a hard problem that is poorly understood.


Join me on my new friends list

> Go here to subscribe <

My theory is that people have a hard time keeping away from Facebook because Facebook scratches a certain kind of online socialization itch. Well, since I'm leaving Facebook on #DeletionDay (Feb. 18), I reasoned, I should provide another outlet for that socialization behavior. But I wanted to be in control, and I didn't want anybody's privacy violated (especially mine). So I made a mailing list! I actually installed it myself, on my own bought-and-paid-for Internet space, and you're all welcome to my party/salon/hoedown.

UPDATE: If you tried but failed to subscribe, because you didn't get a confirmation mail, will you please try again? The sanger.io domain is now properly authenticated, so mails from it should now go to your inbox rather than spam folder. (Of course, still check the spam folder if it doesn't come to your inbox.)


Notes on choosing a Linux distro (for Linux geeks only)

I've ditched Windows on my desktop machine. Similarly, I can't keep using macOS on my laptop. I decided to put Linux on it (and dual-boot). I thought it would be a good idea to use a different distro. But which?

I thought I would do my deliberations publicly. So here goes.

If I haven't exactly mastered Ubuntu with Gnome, why not keep working on it? But flavors of Linux are so similar that if you use one, it's not hard to figure out another. So I think it's a good idea for learning purposes to install a different one.

After a fair bit of hunting about, the following caught my eye enough to do some research and take some notes—your mileage may vary, obviously, as our needs and ability levels vary widely. I'll put these in order of how quickly I rejected them (from fastest rejection to slowest).

  • Arch. Nah, that's for advanced users, and I'm not an advanced Linux user (yet).
  • Kali. More privacy-oriented, but not beginner-friendly because it is actually aimed at security experts. I'll have to pass on that.
  • Pop!. The thing that has me considering the new Pop! distro is that it is specially adapted from Ubuntu by System76 (which sells Linux computers) for developers. Its landing page is very persuasive, but after I looked at some videos about it, it just has too much Ubuntu to be a suitably different system. I guess I'll pass on the Ubuntu-based systems; I want to try something different.
  • Debian. One source bills this as especially good for programming; but it is also not really for beginners, and besides, Ubuntu is based on Debian. So...
  • Mint and Deepin. If I'm rejecting Ubuntu-based distros out of hand, these must go; they're Ubuntu-based.
  • Manjaro and Antergos. These Arch-based distros are supposedly easier to install, and might be a good introduction to a more powerful Linux experience.
  • openSUSE Leap. This is a very old distro, and is very polished, well-documented, and stable (at least the Leap distro; Tumbleweed follows a rolling release model and so should be expected to be less stable). One source says it is targeted at developers and has "stringent" security protocols, whatever that means exactly. It's praised for its customizability, and I like the idea that one can pick and choose packages to include on installation.

So, I'm down to Manjaro, Antergos, and openSUSE Leap. I still haven't made up my mind. So maybe you can help me decide, given my basic requirements:

  • Sufficiently different from Ubuntu with Gnome to give me a usefully different Linux experience.
  • Especially excellent for programmers.
  • Stable, established, well-documented.
  • Not advanced. Needn't be very easy-to-use.
  • I place a premium on security.
  • Looks nice. I don't actually enjoy ugly, clunky stuff.
  • Likes: keyboard shortcuts, snapping windows, reasonably easy customizability, cool, well-designed workspace functionality, etc.
  • I don't really want a rolling release distro, assuming that they're rather more open to disruptive problems. I'm too busy to squash trivial bugs others will eventually squash for me.
  • Works on MacBook Pro machine without too much trouble (it's OK if I have to install a driver, I guess).


Why I quit Quora and Medium for good

It's not a temporary rage-quit; I've deleted both accounts. I have zero followers, no content, and no username. I'm outta there.

This is going to be more interesting than it sounds, I promise.

When I first joined Quora in 2011, I loved it, with a few small reservations. Then, after some run-ins with what I regarded as unreasonable moderation, I started to dislike it; I even temporarily quit in 2015. Then the events of 2018 gave me a new perspective on social media in general. I re-evaluated Quora again, and found it wanting. So I deleted my account today, for good. All my followers and articles are gone.

I went through a similar process with Medium two weeks ago.

Why? Glad you asked.

Digital sharecropping

Until maybe 2012 or so, if you had asked me, I would have said that I am a confirmed and fairly strict open source/open content/open data guy, and the idea of people happily developing content, without a financial or ownership stake, to benefit a for-profit enterprise had always bothered me. It bothered me in 2000 when Jimmy Wales said the job he hired me for—to start a new encyclopedia—would involve asking volunteers to developed free content hosted by a for-profit company (Bomis). I was happy when, in 2003, the Bomis principals gave Wikipedia to a non-profit.

(Ironically, not to mention stupidly, in 2011 Jimmy Wales tried to blame me for Bomis' original for-profit, ad-based business model. Unfortunately for his lie, I was able to find evidence that, in fact, it had been his idea.)

In 2006, technology journalist Nicholas Carr coined the phrase "digital sharecropping", saying that "Web 2.0,"

by putting the means of production into the hands of the masses but withholding from those same masses any ownership over the product of their work, provides an incredibly efficient mechanism to harvest the economic value of the free labor provided by the very many and concentrate it into the hands of the very few.

This bothers me. I'm a libertarian and I support capitalism, but the moral recommendability of building a business on the shoulders of well-meaning volunteers and people merely looking to socialize online struck me, as it did Carr, as very questionable. I even remember writing an old blog post (can't find it anymore) in which I argued, only half-seriously, that this practice is really indefensible, particularly if users don't have a governance stake.

The moral recommendability of building a business on the shoulders of well-meaning volunteers and people merely looking to socialize online struck me as very questionable.

The rise of social media, and joining Quora and Medium

By 2010, despite having been an active Internet user for over 15 years, my perspective started changing. I didn't really begrudge Facebook, Twitter, or YouTube their profits anymore. The old argument that they are providing a useful service that deserves compensation—while still a bit questionable to me—made some sense. As to the rather obvious privacy worries, at that stage they were mainly just worries. Sure, I knew (as we all did) that we were trusting Facebook with relatively sensitive data. I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. (That sure changed.)

If you were plugged in back then, you regularly joined new communities that seemed interesting and happening. Quora was one; I joined it in 2011. It struck me as a somewhat modernized version of the old discussion communities we had in the 1990s—Usenet and mailing lists—but, in some ways, even better. There was very lightweight moderation, which actually seemed to work. A few years later I joined Medium, and as with Quora, I don't think I ever heard from their moderators in the first few years. If I did, I was willing to admit that maybe I had put a toe over the line.

Within a few days, Quora actually posted a question for me to answer: "What does Larry Sanger think about Quora?" Here is my answer in full (which I've deleted from Quora along with all my other answers):

Uhh...I didn't ask this.  It's a bit like fishing for compliments, eh Quora team? But that's OK, I am happy to compliment Quora on making a very interesting, engaging website.

Quora is pretty interesting. It appeals to me because there are a lot of people here earnestly reflecting--this I think must be partly due to good habits started by the first participants, but also because the question + multiple competing answers that mostly do not respond to each other means there is more opportunity for straightforward reflection and less for the usual bickering that happens in most Internet communities.

A long time ago (I'm sure one could find this online somewhere, if one looked hard enough) I was musing that it's odd that mailing lists are not used in more ways than they are. It seemed to me that one could use mailing list software to play all sorts of "conversation games," and I didn't know why people didn't set up different sorts of rule systems for different kinds of games.

What impresses me about Quora is that it seems to be a completely new species of conversation game.  Perhaps it's not entirely new, because it's somewhat similar to Yahoo! Answers, but there aren't as many yahoos on Quora, for whatever reason, and other differences are important.  Quora's model simply works better.  Quora users care about quality, and being deep, and Yahoo! Answerers generally do not.  I wonder why that is.

But unlike Yahoo! Answers, Quora doesn't seem to be used very much for getting factual information. Quora users are more interested in opinionizing about broad, often philosophical questions, which I find charming and refreshing. But for this reason, it's not really a competitor of Wikipedia or Yahoo! Answers (or Citizendium...). It's competing with forums.

I think it needs some more organizational tools, tools that make it less likely that good questions and answers aren't simply forgotten or lost track of. Or maybe there already are such tools and I don't know about them.

As I re-read this, some points have taken on a new meaning. I chalked up Quora's failure to provide more robust search tools to it being at a relatively early stage (it was started in two years earlier by a former Facebook CTO), and the ordinary sort of founder stubbornness, in which the founders have a vision of how a web app should work, and as a result don't give the people what they actually want. I see now that they had already started to execute a new approach to running a website that I just didn't recognize at the time. It was (and is) very deliberately heavy-handed and top-down, like Facebook. They let you see what they want you to see. They try to "tailor" the user experience. And clearly, they do this not to satisfy explicit user preferences. They don't care much about user autonomy. Their aim is apparently to keep users on the site, to keep them adding content. If you choose to join, you become a part of their well-oiled, centrally managed machine.

Quora and Medium, like Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube, make it really hard for you to use their sites on your own terms, with your own preferences. You're led by the hand and kept inside the rails. Before around 2008, nobody could imagine making a website like that. Well, they existed, but they were for children and corporations.

I could see this, of course. But all the big social media sites were the same way. I guess I tolerated what looked like an inevitable takeover of the once-decentralized Internet by a more corporate mindset. I suppose I hoped that this mindset wouldn't simply ruin things. By 2012, I was already deeply suspicious of how things were turning out.

But now it's just blindingly obvious to me that the Silicon Valley elite have ruined the Internet.

Increasingly heavy-handed and ideological "moderation"

Maybe the first or second times I heard from Quora's moderation team, I was merely annoyed, but I still respected their attempts to keep everything polite. I thought that was probably all it was. That's what moderation used to be, anyway, back when we did it in the 90s and 00s. But I noticed that Quora's moderation was done in-house. That struck me as being, well, a little funny. There was something definitely off about it. Why didn't they set some rules and set up a fair system in which the community effectively self-moderated? They obviously had decent coders and designers who could craft a good community moderation system. But they didn't...

I see now only too well that the reason was that they wanted moderation to be kept in house, and not just because it was important to get right; it was because they wanted to exert editorial control. At first, it seemed that they had business reasons for this, which I thought was OK, maybe. But as time went on and as I got more moderation notices for perfectly fair questions and polite comments, it became clear that Quora's moderation practices weren't guided merely by the desire to keep the community pleasant for a wide cross-section of contributors. They were clearly enforcing ideological conformity. This got steadily worse and worse, in my experience, until I temporarily quit Quora in 2015, and I never did contribute as much after that.

Similarly, Medium's moderators rarely if ever bothered me, until they took down a rather harsh comment I made to a pedophile who was defending pedophilia. (He was complaining about an article I wrote explaining why pedophilia is wrong. I also wrote an article about why murder is wrong.) I hadn't been sufficiently polite to the pedophile, it seems. So, with only the slenderest explanations, Medium simply removed my comment. That's what caused me to delete my Medium account.

They don't care much about user autonomy. Their aim is apparently to keep users on the site, to keep them adding content. If you choose to join, you become a part of their well-oiled, centrally managed machine.

You don't have to agree with my politics to agree that there is a problem here. My objection is not just about fairness; it's about control. It's about the audacity of a company, which is profiting from my unpaid content, also presuming to control me, and often without explaining their rather stupid decisions. It's also not about the necessity of moderation. I've been a moderator many times in the last 25 years, and frankly, Internet communities suck if they don't have some sort of moderation mechanism. But when they start moderating in what seems to be an arbitrary and ideological way, when it's done in-house in a wholly opaque way, that's just not right. Bad moderation used to kill groups. People would leave badly-moderated groups in droves.

Lack of intellectual diversity in the community

Being on the web and not artificially restricted by nationality, Quora and Medium do, of course, a global user base. But they are single communities. And they're huge; they're both in the top 250. So whatever answer most users vote up (as filtered by Quora's secret and ever-changing sorting algorithm), and whoever is most popular with other Quora voters, tends to be shown higher.

Unsurprisingly—this was plainly evident back in 2011—Quora's community is left-leaning. Medium is similar. That's because, on average, intellectual Internet writers are left-leaning. I didn't really have a problem with that, and I wouldn't still, if we hadn't gotten absolutely stunning and clear evidence in 2018 that multiple large Internet corporations openly and unashamedly use their platforms to put their thumbs on the scales. They simply can't be trusted as fair, unbiased moderators, particularly when their answer ranking algorithms and the moderation policies and practices are so opaque.

In addition, a company like Quora should notice that different cultures have totally different ways of answering life's big questions. The differences are fascinating, too. By lumping us all together, regardless of nationality, religion, politics, gender, and other features, we actually miss out on the full variety of human experience. If the Quora community's dominant views aren't copacetic to you, you'll mostly find yourself in the cold, badly represented and hard to find.

Silicon Valley, your experiment is over

Look. Quora, like Medium, Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, and others, have been outed as shamelessly self-dealing corporations. It's gone way beyond "digital sharecropping." The problem I and many others have with these companies isn't just that they are profiting from our unpaid contributions. It's that they have become ridiculously arrogant and think they can attempt to control and restrict our user experience and our right to speak our minds under fair, reasonable, and transparent moderation systems. And while the privacy issues that Quora or Medium have aren't as profound as for Facebook, they are there, and they come from the same controlling corporate mindset.

So that's why I've quit Quora and Medium for good. I hope that also sheds more light on why I'm leaving Facebook and changing how I use Twitter.

As if to confirm me in my decision, Quora doesn't supply any tools for exporting all your answers from the site. You have to use third-party tools (I used this). And after I deleted my account (which I did just now), I noticed that my account page and all my answers were still there. The bastards force you to accept a two-week "grace period," in case you change your mind. What if I don't want them to show my content anymore, now? Too bad. You have to let them continue to earn money from your content for two more weeks.

Clearly, they aren't serving you; you're serving them.

We've been in an experiment. Many of us were willing to let Internet communities be centralized in the hands of big Silicon Valley corporations. Maybe it'll be OK, we thought. Maybe the concentration of money and power will result in some really cool new stuff that the older, more decentralized Internet couldn't deliver. Maybe they won't mess it up, and try to exert too much control, and abuse our privacy. Sure! Maybe!

The experiment was a failure. We can't trust big companies, working for their own profit, to make good decisions for large, online communities. The entire industry has earned and richly deserves our distrust and indignation.

So, back to the drawing board. Maybe we'll do better with the next, more robustly decentralized and democratic phase of the Internet: blockchain.

We'll get this right eventually, or die trying. After all, it might take a while.

We've been in an experiment. Many of us were willing to let Internet communities be centralized in the hands of big Silicon Valley corporations. Maybe it'll be OK, we thought. ...

The experiment was a failure.


A plea for protocols

The antidote to the abuses of big tech is the very thing that gave birth to the Internet itself: decentralized, neutral technical protocols.

  1. The thought that inspires
    my work.
    Ever since I started
    work on Nupedia and then Wikipedia, a thought has always
    inspired me: just imagine the stunning possibilities when people
    come together as individuals to share their knowledge, to create
    something much greater than any of them could achieve individually.

  2. The sharing economy. There
    is a general phrase describing this sort of laudable activity: the
    “sharing economy.” The motivations and rewards are different
    when we work to benefit everyone indiscriminately. It worked well
    when Linux and OSS were first developed; then it worked just as well
    with Wikipedia.

  3. The Internet itself is an
    instance of the sharing economy.
    The Internet—its ease of
    communication and publishing together with its decentralized
    nature—is precisely what has made this possible. The Internet is a
    decentralized network of people working together freely, for mutual
    benefit.

  4. The Internet giants have
    abused the sharing economy.
    About ten years ago, this all
    started to change. More and more our sharing behavior has been
    diverted into massive private networks, like Facebook, Twitter, and
    YouTube, that have exerted control and treated contributors as the
    product.

  5. Facebook’s contempt for
    our privacy.
    All you want to do is easily share a picture with
    your family. At first, we thought Facebook’s handling of our
    private data would just be the price we had pay for a really
    powerful and useful service. But over and over, Facebook has shown
    utter contempt for our privacy, and it has recently started
    censoring more and more groups based on their viewpoints. We don’t
    know where this will end.

  6. This aggression will not
    stand, man
    . We need to learn from the success of
    decentralized projects like Linux, open source software, Wikipedia,
    and the neutral technical protocols that define the Internet itself,
    that we don’t have to subject
    ourselves to the tender mercies of the Internet giants.

  7. How.
    How? Just
    think. The Internet is made up of a network of computers that work
    according to communication rules that they have all agreed on. These
    communication rules are called protocols and
    standards.

  8. Protocols
    and standards...
    There
    are protocols and standards
    for transferring
    and displaying
    web pages, for email, for transferring files, and for all the many
    different technologies
    involved.

  9. ...which
    are
    neutral.These
    different standards are neutral. They explicitly don’t care what
    sort of content they carry, and they don’t benefit any person or
    group over another.

  10. We need more
    knowledge-sharing protocols.
    So here’s the thought I want to
    leave you with. You evidently support knowledge sharing, since
    you’re giving people awards for it. Knowledge sharing is so easy
    online precisely because of those neutral technical protocols.
    So—why don’t we invent many, many more neutral Internet
    protocols for the sharing of knowledge?

  11. Blockchain is awesome
    because it creates new technical protocols.
    Probably the biggest
    reason people are excited about blockchain is that it is a
    technology and a movement that gets rid of the need of the Internet
    giants. Blockchain is basically a technology that enables us to
    invent lots and lots of different protocols, for pretty much
    everything.

  12. Why
    not Twitter- and Facebook-like protocols?
    There
    can, and should, be a protocol for
    tweeting without Twitter.
    Why should we have to rely on one company and one website when we
    want to broadcast short messages to the world? That should be
    possible without
    Twitter. Similarly, when we want to share various other tidbits of
    personal information, we should be able to agree on a protocol to
    share
    that ourselves, under our
    own terms—without
    Facebook.

  13. Wikipedia centralizes,
    too.
    Although Wikipedia is an example of decentralized editing,
    it is still centralized in an important way. If you want to
    contribute to the world’s biggest collection of encyclopedia
    articles, you have no choice but to collaborate with, and negotiate
    with, Wikipedians. What if you can single-handedly write a better
    article than Wikipedia’s? Wikipedia offers you no way to get your
    work in front of its readers.

  14. Everipedia,
    an encyclopedia protocol.
    Again,
    there should be a neutral encyclopedia protocol,
    one that allows us to add
    encyclopedia articles
    to a shared database that its creators own and develop, just like
    the Internet itself. That’s why I’m working on Everipedia, which
    is building a blockchain encyclopedia.

This is a little speech I gave to the Rotary Club of Pasadena, in the beautiful Pasadena University Club, January 31, 2019.


We need to pay more for journalism. A lot more.

I'm going to say a few obvious things, and then then a few unobvious things, about the business model for news publishing.

Obvious thing #1: One of the most consequential facts of the Internet age is that news content has become free of charge. We all watched in morbid fascination in the 1990s and 00s when news came out from behind paywalls. What will this do to the business model? we wondered. How will news publishers survive and flourish?

Obvious thing #2: None of them flourished, and many didn't survive. One of the worst industries to get into these days is journalism. Major news organizations have never stopped hemorrhaging jobs. I feel sorry for my journalist friends, and I'm glad there are some who still have jobs. There are quite a few desperate journalists out there; I don't blame them.

Obvious thing #3: There are two main business models for news publishing: advertising and subscription. I'm not familiar with the statistics, but it seems obvious that most news that is read is supported by advertising. Note, I don't say that most money that is made, or the best news available, comes from advertising. I'm just saying that if you add up all the news pageviews supported by ads, and compare it to the news pageviews supported by subscriptions, you'd find a lot more of the former.

I'm done boring you with the obvious. Now something perhaps a little less obvious: Desperate journalists, whose jobs depend on sheer pageviews because that's how you pay the bills, are desperate to write clickbait. Standards have gone out the window because standards don't pay the bills. Objectivity and fact-checking are undervalued; speed and dramatic flair are "better" because they drive traffic and save jobs. But even this is pretty much just the conventional wisdom about what's going on in journalism. It's very sad.

As long as the business of journalism is paid for by ads, it won't be journalism.

It will be clickbait.

If you look at the line of reasoning above, however, you might notice something remarkable. At least, it struck me. It is the simple fact that the news is free of charge that led almost inevitably to a decline in standards. This lowering of standards has even affected more serious reporting that can only be found behind paywalls, in my opinion.

I remember keynoting a publishers' conference in 2007, and many people were asking: "The Internet is threatening our business models. How do we solve this problem?" I suppose they thought I'd have a bright idea because I had managed to build something interesting on a shoestring; but I didn't have any. Since then, as far as I can see, news publishing hasn't gotten any farther along. I haven't had or encountered any fantastic new ideas for getting journalists paid to do excellent work.

As long as the business of journalism is paid for by ads, it won't be journalism.

It will be clickbait.

If you want to support real journalism, with real standards, consider subscribing to a publication that you think practices it, or comes as close to it as possible. It's on us, the public.

But that's lame. You thought I was going to stop there? If so, you don't really know me. Journalism never was very good. Standards have dropped, that's for sure; but we should look back and recognize that they never were terribly high in the first place. What we really need are journalists who recognize just how elusive the entire, nuanced truth really is. (Maybe require them to have had a few philosophy courses.) And we need publishers who demand not just good traditional journalism but neutrality, in the sense I defined in an essay ("Why Neutrality?"):

A disputed topic is treated neutrally if each viewpoint about it is not asserted but rather presented (1) as sympathetically as possible, bearing in mind that other, competing views must be represented as well, and (2) with an equitable amount of space being allotted to each, whatever that might be.

This standard, it turns out (as laid out in my paper), is pretty hard-core. But following it would solve many of the problems we've had. The extra work meeting such a high standard would cost more to produce. But I think enough people care enough about their own intellectual autonomy that they would pay a significant premium for truly neutral news reporting with unusually high standards, above and beyond the New York Times or the Wall Street Journal.

I know I would.


Further, alarming evidence of Larry's creeping geekhood

Isn't she beautiful

Yes, I'm another one who has plunked down unnecessary amounts of money just to get a keyboard with keys that bump, click, and have precise activation points, and with switches that people care a lot about, changeable keys, etc. So far, I don't regret the purchase one bit and I'm rather happy with it. And proud, since here I am bragging about it.

Not only did I get one of these contraptions, called a mechanical keyboard, I totally geeked out and got a 61-key (so called "60%") keyboard. This cut out the function keys, the arrow keys, the number pad, etc. How do I type all that stuff? What about when I want to do a screen capture? Well, for that there is the function layer. In fact, there is the default function layer, which has things like the arrow keys (on my keyboard, they're the green keys, I, J, K, L), as well as three more programming function layers. I don't have to use the Fn key to activate the function layer, either; I can use the Caps Lock key, which I reassigned to Fn with a simple dip switch. So if I want to print the screen, I simply type Fn (or Caps Lock) + p.

I bought the above keyboard from WASD Keyboards. They allow you to choose your keys and choose what is printed on your keys (see what I have on my space bar?). Mine is fitted with the both-bumpy-and-clicky Cherry MX Blue switches, and I can confirm that the bumpyclickiness is "satisfying," whatever that means, in this context, exactly. I do feel approximately 5% geekier, which puts my geekiness ratio might higher than it was not that long ago, what with having installed Linux and starting to really pay attention to privacy. (Speaking of privacy, as some have observed, I need to make larrysanger.org https: . I will soonish, honest.)

So why spend this money (OK, it was $160) on a keyboard? The usual reasons are mine, too: the keys are rather more pleasurable to type on (it's true! The sense of precision is great!). The colors on the self-designed keys make me happy. The high quality also makes me happy. And as for the reasons for a 60% keyboard: I think it will make me a faster writer and coder, as I don't have to leave the center of the keyboard (I'm already seeing this to be the case). It also means I don't have to reach over the extra keys to get to the mouse, so my fingers can be directly in front of me, with the keyboard centered in front of my monitors. I couldn't do this with my old keyboard, which hogged the desk. My workspace is simpler now and that's actually a bigger deal than I thought it would be.

Normally, I would have put the above paragraphs on Facebook and/or Twitter. Instead, as part of my movement away from social media, I decided to put it on my blog and let people find it their own damn selves, and if not many people do find it, and if it has zero chance of "going viral," ask me if I care.