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你可能還記得，幾年前在訂閱的新聞推送上見(jiàn)過(guò)Facebook發(fā)布類似以下內(nèi)容的帖子：

“今天，2014年11月30日，為了回應(yīng)Facebook的準(zhǔn)則，遵循知識(shí)產(chǎn)權(quán)準(zhǔn)則第L.111、112和113條的規(guī)定，本人特此聲明，個(gè)人信息頁(yè)面發(fā)布的個(gè)人數(shù)據(jù)、制圖、繪畫、照片、文本內(nèi)容等均屬本人版權(quán)所有。無(wú)論何時(shí)，若要以商業(yè)用途使用相關(guān)內(nèi)容，都需征得本人書面同意……侵犯本人隱私將受到法律（UCC 1 1-308 – 308 1 – 103和羅馬規(guī)約）懲處。”

其實(shí)這些內(nèi)容都是亂寫而已。事實(shí)上，國(guó)際刑事法院的所謂羅馬規(guī)約僅涉及違反人道的罪行，與Facebook的用戶政策無(wú)關(guān)。但這種杜撰帖盛行卻在提醒我們，近來(lái)刪除Facebook運(yùn)動(dòng)的源頭其實(shí)比想象中深遠(yuǎn)得多。

在Facebook成長(zhǎng)為社交媒體巨頭的漫長(zhǎng)道路上，經(jīng)常會(huì)出現(xiàn)被大肆炒作的“Facebook殺手”，號(hào)稱新平臺(tái)可提供取代Facebook，而且規(guī)則比Facebook更好。第一個(gè)是Diaspora，起初是一家流行的眾籌活動(dòng)，旨在打造由用戶掌控的去中心化非營(yíng)利平臺(tái)，從而取代Facebook。Facebook創(chuàng)始人馬克·扎克伯格甚至還參與了Diaspora的眾籌。這說(shuō)明他把Diaspora視為一個(gè)有趣的實(shí)驗(yàn)。2016年出現(xiàn)一家名叫Ello的社交網(wǎng)絡(luò)，宣傳口號(hào)是：“Facebook真正的使命不是讓你快樂(lè)。他們不關(guān)心你跟老朋友聯(lián)系，也沒(méi)想著促進(jìn)有趣的對(duì)話。你（Facebook的卑微用戶）不是客戶……（個(gè)人信息）數(shù)據(jù)的買家才是客戶，F(xiàn)acebook的業(yè)務(wù)就是圍繞他們來(lái)的?！边@種宣傳詞當(dāng)時(shí)很有吸引力，Ello的創(chuàng)始人稱，一小時(shí)內(nèi)有3.1萬(wàn)人注冊(cè)。（但此后這些用戶又都棄之而去，只是宣傳得好聽(tīng)產(chǎn)品難用還是不行。）

你可能還是支持Facebook測(cè)試民主化時(shí)表示支持的百萬(wàn)用戶之一。2012年，F(xiàn)acebook給用戶投票決定修改隱私政策的機(jī)會(huì)，但還是耍了一點(diǎn)心機(jī)：要讓投票結(jié)果生效，參與投票的Facebook用戶必須達(dá)到用戶總數(shù)的30%。據(jù)美國(guó)有線電視新聞網(wǎng)（CNN）當(dāng)時(shí)報(bào)道：“投票差點(diǎn)成功修改Facebook的政策，也就差了2.99億票。”

這些都是事情發(fā)展到當(dāng)前局面的序曲。在大數(shù)據(jù)公司劍橋分析（Cambridge Analytica）導(dǎo)致的丑聞事件中，我們發(fā)現(xiàn)針對(duì)Facebook平臺(tái)已出現(xiàn)更廣泛的政治意識(shí)。所有用戶都面臨的機(jī)會(huì)不僅可以“爭(zhēng)取到”Facebook暫時(shí)的妥協(xié)，還能借機(jī)重新構(gòu)想我們進(jìn)入平臺(tái)時(shí)簽訂的社會(huì)（也有財(cái)務(wù)與政治方面的）協(xié)議。

早年間互聯(lián)網(wǎng)先驅(qū)們的夢(mèng)想是建立天然可自由馳騁的網(wǎng)絡(luò)天堂，然而人們感覺(jué)現(xiàn)實(shí)卻是一個(gè)個(gè)參與式農(nóng)場(chǎng)，少數(shù)大平臺(tái)圈地圍欄，每天各自埋頭收獲數(shù)十億用戶活動(dòng)產(chǎn)生的收益。這么做是有代價(jià)的。2017年英國(guó)《衛(wèi)報(bào)》做的一項(xiàng)調(diào)查顯示，認(rèn)為Facebook對(duì)世界有益的美國(guó)人不到受訪者總數(shù)的三分之一，僅有26%的受訪者認(rèn)為Facebook關(guān)心用戶。

那么，現(xiàn)在我們要回答的重要問(wèn)題就是：現(xiàn)狀從結(jié)構(gòu)上可能如何改變？如何才能創(chuàng)造新的模式，不僅能發(fā)揮Facebook標(biāo)榜的所謂“分享的力量”，真正分享價(jià)值和治理決策，同時(shí)提供更大的透明度和自由度？

理想化的“合作型平臺(tái)”

美國(guó)科羅拉多大學(xué)博爾得分校傳媒研究助理教授內(nèi)森·施耐德目前領(lǐng)導(dǎo)一項(xiàng)僅限于學(xué)術(shù)界但正在興起的運(yùn)動(dòng)。其主張民主運(yùn)營(yíng)并協(xié)作管理大量重新構(gòu)想的技術(shù)平臺(tái)，即“合作型平臺(tái)”，不再是農(nóng)場(chǎng)和工廠。該運(yùn)動(dòng)希望將圈起用戶的農(nóng)場(chǎng)變成數(shù)字化的集體農(nóng)莊。

施耐德提到了一些傳統(tǒng)行業(yè)沿用的類似方法。比如英國(guó)連鎖百貨商店約翰·劉易斯早在1929年就成立了員工所有的信托，讓員工分享公司的盈利，挑選管理董事會(huì)的代表。施耐德認(rèn)為，對(duì)有影響力的新平臺(tái)來(lái)說(shuō)，不能只是讓拿到薪水的員工分享平臺(tái)創(chuàng)造的價(jià)值，享有重大決策發(fā)言權(quán)、成為平臺(tái)管理代表，數(shù)百萬(wàn)的平臺(tái)用戶也應(yīng)享有權(quán)力。他提議Twitter的用戶設(shè)法回購(gòu)公司，認(rèn)為只有當(dāng)Twitter歸用戶所有才能發(fā)揮公共功能。在他看來(lái)，Twitter之所以面對(duì)諸多挑戰(zhàn)，問(wèn)題不是沒(méi)有為用戶服務(wù)，一些發(fā)端于Twitter的正義行動(dòng)可以證明。他認(rèn)為，主要原因在于“華爾街的生意經(jīng)變成了Twitter的經(jīng)營(yíng)之道?！?/p>

施耐德等人倡導(dǎo)的買下Twitter運(yùn)動(dòng)影響力驚人。最終還變成提交Twitter公司2017年年度大會(huì)的五項(xiàng)提案之一。該案例也說(shuō)明，Twitter確實(shí)有機(jī)會(huì)發(fā)揮完全不一樣的作用。

如果Twitter歸用戶共同擁有，可能會(huì)發(fā)覺(jué)新的可靠收入源，因?yàn)橛脩魰?huì)有主人翁意識(shí)，Twitter的成敗與大家都有關(guān)。我們不會(huì)讓Twitter背負(fù)短期的股市壓力，從而實(shí)現(xiàn)平臺(tái)的潛在價(jià)值。這正是Twitter管理層遵循當(dāng)前商業(yè)模式竭力奮斗多年卻做不到的。我們可以制定更透明、更有問(wèn)責(zé)效力的規(guī)定應(yīng)付隱私信息濫用問(wèn)題，可能為了激勵(lì)創(chuàng)新重新開(kāi)放Twitter的數(shù)據(jù)。總之，我們會(huì)為了Twitter的經(jīng)營(yíng)成功和可持續(xù)發(fā)展全力以赴。用戶與Twitter的交流也可確?，F(xiàn)有投資者獲得更公平的回報(bào)，不用再想別的法子。

Twitter公司并沒(méi)有接受這一提議。Twitter也很難走向合作型平臺(tái)的道路。但起碼提出了一個(gè)很有說(shuō)服力的發(fā)展前景，今后用戶有了期待，下一代平臺(tái)締造者也有了努力方向。

實(shí)際上，現(xiàn)在已開(kāi)始出現(xiàn)采用合作經(jīng)營(yíng)理念和商業(yè)模式的公司。合作型圖片分享平臺(tái)Stocksy將攝影師和電影制片人聚集在一起，可授權(quán)他人使用自己作品。他們通過(guò)平臺(tái)合作無(wú)間，也形成一個(gè)數(shù)百萬(wàn)美元的龐大產(chǎn)業(yè)。正如Stocksy所說(shuō)的：“（給藝術(shù)家多一些尊重和支持，少一些虛名。）我們相信可以用創(chuàng)造性的方式保證誠(chéng)信，可以公平分享盈利，共同擁有知識(shí)產(chǎn)權(quán)，每一種聲音都被聽(tīng)見(jiàn)?！?/p>

要幫助合作型平臺(tái)和類似創(chuàng)意成功，政府要確保這類企業(yè)更容易融資從而擴(kuò)大規(guī)模，無(wú)需依靠大投資者和傳統(tǒng)的資本市場(chǎng)募資。而且，要讓這類商業(yè)模式走出小作坊變成主流，在模式設(shè)計(jì)層面也是真正的挑戰(zhàn)。一旦攻克技術(shù)難題，無(wú)論是在道德還是在財(cái)務(wù)角度看，對(duì)用戶和內(nèi)容生產(chǎn)者都有吸引力。特別是考慮到Facebook與用戶的關(guān)系越來(lái)越緊張，一個(gè)用戶體驗(yàn)類似，合作協(xié)議卻更公平的競(jìng)爭(zhēng)對(duì)手有望輕易吸引叛逃Facebook的用戶。

平臺(tái)的多種發(fā)展道路

十年前，萬(wàn)維網(wǎng)之父蒂姆·伯納斯-李就看出了Facebook之類參與式農(nóng)場(chǎng)興起的危險(xiǎn)。

2008年，設(shè)計(jì)互聯(lián)網(wǎng)將近二十年后，李呼吁打造“去中心化的社交網(wǎng)絡(luò)”，要從越來(lái)越中心化的網(wǎng)站手中奪回深愛(ài)的互聯(lián)網(wǎng)。他很看好流動(dòng)性更強(qiáng)、更多元化的平臺(tái)，即“不會(huì)受到審查、壟斷、監(jiān)管和其他中央集權(quán)機(jī)構(gòu)影響的線上社交網(wǎng)絡(luò)?！?/p>

現(xiàn)在，李正努力開(kāi)發(fā)解決該問(wèn)題的項(xiàng)目，制定大刀闊斧革新互聯(lián)網(wǎng)應(yīng)用運(yùn)作方式的方案。該方案會(huì)將用戶所有的個(gè)人數(shù)據(jù)和內(nèi)容從應(yīng)用和平臺(tái)中剝離，目前都存放在應(yīng)用和平臺(tái)上。李的Solid項(xiàng)目將讓用戶擁有自己的數(shù)據(jù)，納入個(gè)人安全“豆莢”（pod），我們上網(wǎng)時(shí)自己帶著。想想一下，不用再把個(gè)人數(shù)據(jù)放在第三方平臺(tái)上，而是自己掌握（這就是極客們所說(shuō)的互通性）。我們可以攜帶照片、好友信息、過(guò)往身體健康記錄、旅行地圖、購(gòu)物清單，甚至在不同平臺(tái)上的聲望——這也是一筆重要財(cái)富。我們可以自由決定授權(quán)哪些人接觸自己的數(shù)據(jù)，以及如何使用。Solid不只是一種新技術(shù)，更像一種思想體系。按照Solid的設(shè)想，個(gè)人數(shù)據(jù)會(huì)向本人匯報(bào)。

還有個(gè)解決方案就是時(shí)下熱門的技術(shù)區(qū)塊鏈。區(qū)塊鏈?zhǔn)且环N分布式公開(kāi)賬本，所有人都可以在上面記錄并查看交易。和目前銀行主要采用的中心化私密賬本不同，區(qū)塊鏈?zhǔn)峭该鞴_(kāi)的。在區(qū)塊鏈中，確認(rèn)交易的不是中央控制，而是分布式的流程。有些人可能已經(jīng)通過(guò)目前最有名的區(qū)塊鏈應(yīng)用有所了解，因?yàn)樘摂M貨幣比特幣就是建立在區(qū)塊鏈技術(shù)之上。

如果并非技術(shù)人士，其實(shí)很難理解區(qū)塊鏈運(yùn)作的方式，即使花上幾小時(shí)研究。但最重要的是，要明白該技術(shù)有望應(yīng)用于人類社會(huì)。正如英國(guó)雜志《經(jīng)濟(jì)學(xué)人》所說(shuō)：“區(qū)塊鏈給彼此不認(rèn)識(shí)或者不信任的人提供了一種方法，記錄下所有者信息，而且所有相關(guān)人士都要知曉。這是一種創(chuàng)造并維護(hù)真相的方法?！?/p>

區(qū)塊鏈的潛力巨大，熱度也非常高。（不過(guò)，和其他所有技術(shù)一樣，區(qū)塊鏈很容易被吸收和利用）。區(qū)塊鏈開(kāi)啟了新世界的大門。在理想世界中，用戶可能無(wú)需任何中間商直接交易。很容易就能想到，可以利用區(qū)塊鏈進(jìn)行房地產(chǎn)合約或者金融交易。屆時(shí)人們還讓用戶、司機(jī)、駕駛者、房東和租客都擺脫現(xiàn)在的超級(jí)平臺(tái)Facebook、Uber和Airbnb，直接合作和交易。

展望未來(lái)，對(duì)關(guān)于下一代參與型技術(shù)和創(chuàng)意如何改變生活的預(yù)測(cè)非常多。無(wú)論是虛擬現(xiàn)實(shí)、增強(qiáng)現(xiàn)實(shí)，還是區(qū)塊鏈，我們今天所知的平臺(tái)最終都可能過(guò)時(shí)。不管以后怎么變化，我們要制定并堅(jiān)持原則，保證世界上少一些壟斷獨(dú)占，多一些公開(kāi)透明，具有的能力要與影響程度匹配。

符合公眾利益的算法

為了重新設(shè)計(jì)Facebook之類平臺(tái)，算法也要改造。Facebook已經(jīng)顯示，社交媒體網(wǎng)站對(duì)改變消費(fèi)者的偏好、激發(fā)或者阻撓極端主義作用極大，區(qū)區(qū)幾行代碼就可以左右用戶情緒。但現(xiàn)在，F(xiàn)acebook的算法正秘密地為私人利益服務(wù)。

想象下一種符合公眾利益的算法，該如何發(fā)揮作用。假如有一種方案能滿足所有平臺(tái)參與者和全社會(huì)的利益，不再只為平臺(tái)所有者、廣告商和投資者牟利，應(yīng)該什么樣？

應(yīng)該需要具備三大特征。第一，由于輸入算法的內(nèi)容將決定我們看到什么樣的內(nèi)容以及哪些優(yōu)先呈現(xiàn)，就應(yīng)該用戶透明公開(kāi)，包括平臺(tái)根據(jù)什么標(biāo)準(zhǔn)和諧攻擊性的內(nèi)容或者有仇恨情緒的言論。第二，所有用戶都應(yīng)有一系列調(diào)整工具改變接觸到的世界，可以主動(dòng)了解先前不認(rèn)同的內(nèi)容，也可以“篩選”圈子之外的觀點(diǎn)看法，還可選擇少看聳人聽(tīng)聞消息。

第三，算法的默認(rèn)設(shè)置要經(jīng)過(guò)測(cè)試，確認(rèn)符合公眾利益，要考慮平臺(tái)怎樣更好地服務(wù)于社會(huì)。這種操作可能像升級(jí)版的公共廣播，要呈現(xiàn)經(jīng)過(guò)篩選的內(nèi)容減少社會(huì)緊張局勢(shì)和極端主義，增進(jìn)公民協(xié)商，推動(dòng)多元化發(fā)展，給缺乏服務(wù)需求急迫的弱勢(shì)群體發(fā)聲機(jī)會(huì)。只有經(jīng)歷一系列挑戰(zhàn)，算法才能相對(duì)成熟。合理爭(zhēng)論包括平臺(tái)是否發(fā)揮“決定作用”，怎樣影響以及應(yīng)該發(fā)揮多大影響。從道德層面來(lái)看，后續(xù)挑戰(zhàn)的難度比設(shè)計(jì)算法的挑戰(zhàn)更大。

為了推動(dòng)此類解決方案，作為參與式農(nóng)場(chǎng)里的用戶，我們更需要行動(dòng)起來(lái)，而不是哀嘆命運(yùn)。要重新協(xié)商我們參與的協(xié)議，將需要技術(shù)人士、企業(yè)家、平臺(tái)自身和所有用戶真正投入并付出努力。

刪除Facebook賬號(hào)運(yùn)動(dòng)只是開(kāi)始。我們要更進(jìn)一步。未來(lái)幾個(gè)月，可能會(huì)有改革Facebook、監(jiān)管Facebook，甚至取代Facebook的運(yùn)動(dòng)出現(xiàn)。（財(cái)富中文網(wǎng)）

亨利·提姆斯是92nd Street Y執(zhí)行董事。本文改編自杰瑞米·海曼斯和亨利·提姆斯合著的《新勢(shì)力》一書。

譯者:Pessy

審校：夏林

A few years ago, you may remember seeing Facebook posts like this dotting your newsfeed.

“Today, November 30, 2014 in response to the Facebook guidelines and under articles L.111, 112 and 113 of the code of intellectual property, I declare that my rights are attached to all my personal data, drawings, paintings, photos, texts etc… published on my profile. For commercial use of the foregoing my written consent is required at all times… The violation of my privacy is punished by the law (UCC 1 1-308 – 308 1 – 103 and the Rome Statute).”

The posts were based on an urban myth. The Rome Statute in fact covers crimes against humanity, not Facebook’s relationship with its users. But the popularity of such posts remind us that the #DeleteFacebook movement we have seen in recent days has much deeper roots.

Every now and then on Facebook’s long journey to platform hegemony, a much-hyped “Facebook Killer” has come along—a new platform that might provide a viable alternative, built on better principles. First there was “Diaspora,” which began as a viral crowd-funding campaign to create a non-profit, user-owned, decentralized alternative to Facebook. Mark Zuckerberg even chipped in—a solid indication that he regarded Diaspora as little more than a charming experiment. Then, in 2016, the social network Ello came to life with a powerful sales pitch: “Facebook’s real mission isn’t to make you happy. It isn’t to connect you with old friends, or to facilitate interesting conversations. You (the humble Facebook user) are not the customer … The people who buy [your] data are the real customers, and that’s to whom Facebook’s business is oriented.” This promise was seductive enough that at one point, its founder claimed that 31,000 people an hour were signing up to the new platform. (Though in time, these users fell away, with the clunky product not living up to the sexy hype.)

You might even have been one of the less than a million users who took part in Facebook’s attempt at direct democracy on the platform. In 2012, it offered users the chance to vote to ratify changes to its privacy policy, but there was one catch: For the vote to be binding, 30% of Facebook users had to participate. As CNN put it at the time: “Voting closes on Facebook policy changes, only 299 million votes short.”

These are all preludes to the current moment. What we are seeing, in light of the Cambridge Analytica scandal, is the emergence of a much broader political consciousness in regards to the platform. This opportunity ahead is for all of us users not simply to “win” occasional concessions from Facebook, but to start to re-imagine the social (and financial and political) contract that we have entered into with the platform.

Far from the organic, free-roaming paradise the early Internet pioneers imagined, there is a growing sense that we are now living in a world of participation farms, where a small number of big platforms have fenced, and harvest for their own gain, the daily activities of billions. This has a real price. In a Guardian poll in 2017, less than one-third of Americans agreed that Facebook was good for the world, and a paltry 26% believed that Facebook cared about its users.

So the big question ahead is: How might things be structurally different? How might we create models that don’t merely offer the vanilla “power to share” that Facebook touts, but actually share value and governance decisions, along with delivering greater transparency and freedom?

The promise of “platform co-ops”

The University of Colorado Boulder’s Nathan Schneider is one of the leaders of a growing (but still quite academic) movement that is championing what he calls “platform co-ops,” democratically run and governed cooperatives reimagined for a world of peer-based technology platforms, not just farms and factories. This movement wants to turn the participation farm into something that looks more like a digital kibbutz.

Schneider points to models in more traditional industries that run along these lines, like the U.K. department store chain John Lewis, which in 1929 was put into a trust owned by its employees, who share in the retail chain’s profits and elect representatives to its governing board. For new power platforms, he argues, it is their millions of users, not just those on the payroll, who should share in the value created, have a say in big decisions, and be represented in the governance of these platforms. He has proposed that Twitter’s users try to buy it back, arguing that it serves an essential public function. In his mind, for all its challenges, the problem isn’t that Twitter isn’t working for its users—he cites the powerful justice movements that rely on it as evidence that it is. The problem is that “Wall Street’s economy has become Twitter’s economy.”

The #BuyTwitter movement championed by Schneider and others was significant enough that it ended up as one of the five proposals on the table at Twitter’s 2017 annual general meeting. It made a strong case for a Twitter that would function very differently.

A community-owned Twitter could result in new and reliable revenue streams, since we, as users, could buy in as co-owners, with a stake in the platform’s success. Without the short-term pressure of the stock markets, we can realize Twitter’s potential value, which the current business model has struggled to do for many years. We could set more transparent, accountable rules for handling abuse. We could re-open the platform’s data to spur innovation. Overall, we’d all be invested in Twitter’s success and sustainability. Such a conversion could also ensure a fairer return for the company’s existing investors than other options.

This motion was not embraced by Twitter Inc. And it would be very tough to flip Twitter into a co-op in this way. But it points to a compelling alternative vision, for us as participants and for the next generation of platform creators.

In fact, companies with this cooperative-inspired philosophy and model are beginning to emerge. The photo-sharing co-op Stocksy brings together photographers and filmmakers, giving them an opportunity to license their work. They are a proud platform co-op but also a serious and growing multimillion-dollar business. As they put it: “(Think more artist respect and support, less patchouli.) We believe in creative integrity, fair profit sharing, and co-ownership, with every voice being heard.”

For platform co-ops and similar ideas to succeed, governments will have to make it easier to raise money to scale without relying on big investors or the traditional capital markets. There is also a real engineering challenge in ensuring that these types of models move beyond the artisanal to the mainstream. But if the technical piece can be cracked, it’s not hard to see the moral (and financial) appeal to users and content creators. Especially given Facebook’s increasingly strained relationship with its users, a rival that offered a similar user experience but a much fairer deal, might easily attract defectors.

Free-range platforms

A decade ago, none other than the father of the World Wide Web, Tim Berners-Lee, saw the dangers of participation farms like Facebook looming.

In 2008, almost 20 years after laying out his original vision, he rallied for the building of “decentralized social networks” that would reclaim his beloved web from increasingly centralizing sites. He saw a big prize in a more fluid and pluralistic world of platforms in which “online social networking will be more immune to censorship, monopoly, regulation, and other exercise of central authority.”

Today, he is hard at work on a project to address that very issue, a plan to radically alter the way web applications work, one that would divorce all our personal data and content from the apps and platforms that now—often literally—own it. Berners-Lee’s Solid project would allow us to own our own data as part of a personal secure “pod” in which we would carry around our digital lives. So imagine that, rather than having all your data on a third-party platform, you now take it with you. (This is what geeks call “interoperability.”) You walk around with your photos, friends, health histories, a map of all the places you have traveled, a list of all your purchases—even the online reputation you have built up in various platforms, an especially powerful commodity. You are liberated to decide what access you would like to grant—and on what terms—to whom. Solid is much more than a different kind of technology; it is a different philosophy. With Solid, your data “reports to you.”

Another solution to the same problem comes in the great—and much-hyped—hope of the Blockchain. The Blockchain is a distributed public ledger that allows everyone to record and see what transactions have taken place. Unlike a centralized secret ledger—such as those of banks—it is transparent. And transactions are verified not by a central force, but as a distributed process. You might know the Blockchain from its most famous (and controversial) application to date: It is the underlying technology upon which the virtual currency Bitcoin is built on.

For non-technologists—even those who have spent hours trying to get their heads around this—the way this actually works can be hard to grasp. But the most important things to understand are the potential human applications. As The Economist puts it, “It offers a way for people who do not know or trust each other to create a record of who owns what that will compel the assent of everyone concerned. It is a way of making and preserving truths.”

The potential of this is as huge as the hype (although, like all technologies, Blockchain remains vulnerable to co-optation and capture). It opens up a world where users might exchange value directly without an extractive middleman. We can easily imagine real estate contracts or financial transactions living on the Blockchain. But we might imagine, too, the intermediaries being removed from the mega-platforms of the world—our Facebooks, Ubers, or Airbnbs—when users, drivers, and riders, or hosts and guests, work out ways to collaborate and exchange directly with each other.

As we look to the future, there is no shortage of predictions about the next participatory technologies and ideas that will transform our lives. Whether it be virtual reality, augmented reality, or blockchains, platforms as we know them today will likely end up feeling rather quaint. But however things turn out, we need to cling to, and build for, a set of principles that ensure the worlds we will live in are less monopolistic, more transparent, and much more attuned to their broader impact.

A public-interest algorithm

To truly reimagine a platform like Facebook, we need to reimagine its algorithm. As Facebook has shown us, social media sites have huge power to alter our consumer preferences, spur or hinder extremism, and sway our emotions with tweaks of code. But today their algorithms function as secret recipes that serve private interests.

So let’s consider how a “public interest algorithm” might work instead. What might a formula designed to favor the interests of platform participants and society at large—instead of just their owners, advertisers, and investors—look like?

It would need three key features. First, the inputs into the algorithm, which shape what content we see and what gets priority, would be fully transparent to the user, including the criteria used by the platform to moderate offensive content or hate speech. Second, every user would have a range of dials that allowed them to alter their world. They could choose to engage with more content they disagreed with. They could “filter in” perspectives and views from those well outside their bubbles. They could reduce sensationalism.

Third, the default settings of the algorithm would apply a public interest test, considering how the platform can better serve our broader society. This might operate like an updated version of public broadcasting, bringing to the surface content proven to reduce social tension and extremism and bolster civic discourse, promoting pluralism, and showcasing unserved and underserved communities. This would not come without its challenges—legitimate debates would need to be had around whether, how, and how much a platform should “tip the scales” in this way—but it is a greater moral challenge than an engineering one.

To advance solutions like these, we, as the participants on the participation farms, need to do more than just lament our fates. It will take inspired and dedicated effort—by technologists, entrepreneurs, the platforms themselves, and all of us—to renegotiate the contract with which we participate.

#DeleteFacebook is just the start. We need to go deeper. In the coming months, we may see #ReformFacebook, #RegulateFacebook, and even #ReplaceFacebook take off.

Henry Timms is executive director of 92nd Street Y. This article was adapted from the book NEW POWER by Jeremy Heimans and Henry Timms.