Wisdom of the mob: How social media distorts our national discourse

Social media was supposedly invented with the noble intention of facilitating the sharing of information and ideas between people over the internet. However, as with most things in life, intention could not cope with the vexing demands of reality. What was supposed to be a tool for the democratisation of information has instead turned into […]

Social media was supposedly invented with the noble intention of facilitating the sharing of information and ideas between people over the internet. However, as with most things in life, intention could not cope with the vexing demands of reality. What was supposed to be a tool for the democratisation of information has instead turned into a tool for the mass exploitation of humanity’s fundamental inability to adequately discern truth from lies at an industrial scale.

It is readily apparent why this is so. Meta, by far the largest social media company in the world, with apps such as Facebook, Instagram, and WhatsApp, recently posted its second-quarter 2024 revenue at about $39.1 billion. Around 98 per cent of that revenue, or $38.3 billion, was generated through advertisement. Meta is not alone in this as virtually all major social media companies generate revenue primarily through advertisement.

Basically, in order to generate revenue, a social media company has to keep your attention. To keep your attention, it needs to show you stuff, or content as we know it. Success in this regard is how many times a particular content is viewed, commented on, or shared – usually measured in what are referred to as engagement metrics. Success is thus not measured in high-minded metrics such as, truthfulness, verifiability, or instructiveness, but in virality.

To attract advertisement, social media companies parade these engagement metrics as tangible evidence that users are indeed active on their respective platforms, and as such, the platform may be worth advertising on. Simply, because of the need for advertisement money, a social media company is incentivised to feed users as much content as possible, at the least cost possible, in order to keep and sell users’ attention to advertisers.

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Moreover, because unlike traditional media, social media companies outsource the creation of content to their users, called “content creators”, for a share of their revenue, these companies often bear only tangential legal or reputational responsibility for whatever falsehood or gobbledygook they feed their users. Likewise, because content creators are rewarded by the amount of engagement they generate, their primary incentive is to produce high-engagement content, with quality only as a byproduct.

There is, of course, the more sinister possibility that, actually, gobbledygook may drive higher engagement. Consider that psychologically, it is far easier and less mentally demanding for a user to engage with a post that does not challenge them to think deeper about their beliefs, reevaluate their assumptions in light of better evidence, or try and understand a different person’s viewpoint. Psychologists call this tendency to seek out and focus on information that already conforms to our existing beliefs confirmation bias.

Hence, once a content creator is able to identify his target audience, all he needs to do is feed them as much content that confirms their beliefs as possible, safe in the knowledge that they will always come back for more.

Finally, consider that, for the average content creator, creating an original, competently produced, and perhaps insightful and well-researched content, can be prohibitively expensive, with only marginal gains in return, if they are lucky. Therefore, economically speaking, it may be more productive for a content creator to just post a video of himself slandering whichever unpopular politician happens to be in the public’s crosshairs, than say, booking a flight to Ibadan, and hiring a tour guide, to share fascinating insights about the Olumo Rock; especially since slandering a politician is guaranteed to generate user engagement.

The former only requires a N500 data subscription plus basic secondary school education, while the latter requires, let’s say, a bit more effort.

What we have then, as a result of all these perverse incentives, is a system seemingly designed to feed us things that are only good for one thing: keeping our attention for as long as possible. The result is a slow build-up of our collective immunity to falsehood, tolerance for nonsense, and a pernicious coarsening of public discourse. Because of the immense amount of rubbish we encounter daily, the lines between truth and falsehood are becoming increasingly blurred, as well as the lines between trivial matters and those of significance.

Recent events bear this out. For example, who cares about the Almajiri problem when someone has just posted a video showing how a deceased popular singer may or may not have been drugged by his supposed rivals: surely, this has to be the IGP’s priority.

Some politicians and public figures, to their credit, have taken notice and are ruthlessly exploiting this moment to their advantage.

All this, dear reader, is to say that, to prosper as a nation, it may be wiser to not allow our national agenda be dictated by a cacophony of voices from social media. The course of our national discourse should not be determined by a pack of terminally online gormless blatherers, whose only notable distinctions are that they own smartphones, and have demonstrated an ability to connect those phones to the internet. As if the name “content creator” was not fatuous enough, they have lately taken to calling themselves “Influencers”.

To escape their stultifying grip, we must first acknowledge that there is a difference between the real world, where most people live and work, and the pastiche reality of social media. This distinction can help us further realise that, whatever we see in this pretend social media reality, there is a good chance that it, just like the reality it resides in, is fake. This naturally means we must develop a healthy amount of skepticism towards social media content. If a post seems designed to pander to our basest instincts, or to confirm our natural biases, it’s because it probably was, and may warrant double-checking. It may also be worth remembering that just because an opinion is trending online, it doesn’t mean it’s correct or true: in thinking otherwise lies damnation.

Most importantly, perhaps, is for journalists to finally appreciate what it takes to be one. Prioritising speed over accuracy in reporting is not only irresponsible at this moment, but downright treacherous. What’s more, sharing and reposting other people’s stories and opinions without verification doesn’t count as journalism. The Latin name for it is rumour mongering, and try as one might, old wives are just better at it.

 

Muhammad resides in Abuja and can be reached via  [email protected]