A retreat from content control

“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?” That was a question posed by the Roman poet Juvenal. The translation is familiar to many Americans as “Who watches the watchmen?” While the author applied his inquiry to marital fidelity, there is a long usage of the query concerning politics and power. We empower rulers and law enforcement agents to restrain evil and to keep a wary eye upon those who break faith with their fellow citizens. But how can we be sure that those we invest with authority will use it to its intended purpose?

The question has risen to the fore in a slightly different context in recent years. When social media exploded into our lives about 20 years ago and rapidly became a normal part of everyday existence, it contributed to a sharp decline in the monopoly mass media had over the distribution of information.

The revolutionary changes began with the advent of internet publishing such as The Drudge Report (which exposed the Monica Lewinsky scandal the mainstream media decided not to cover), picked up steam with blogging of the type that derailed Dan Rather’s storied career when bloggers picked apart the CBS anchorman’s attack on President George W. Bush’s military service, and then accelerated into the stratosphere with social media as the ultimate way to rapidly disseminate ideas and information. All of this was accompanied by a decline in the audiences, prestige, and control possessed by the existing structure of newspapers and broadcast television networks.

But the straw that really seemed to break the back of the media camel was the stunning, thread-the-electoral-needle defeat of former first lady, U.S. Sen., and Secretary of State Hillary Clinton by the billionaire real estate developer and television celebrity Donald Trump in 2016. A parallel shock occurred in 2016 in the United Kingdom when the Brexit referendum carried the day to the surprise of nearly everyone, including the premier advocate of the measure and reigning Conservative Prime Minister David Cameron (who immediately resigned). These events and others of a similar style seemed to convince establishment elites (especially those on the left) that disinformation campaigns perpetrated by Russians and/or unscrupulous hackers were creating havoc in politics and derailing carefully laid plans.

Social media sites such as Facebook and Twitter (now X) had built their appeal not only on the ability to share special family events, photos of vacations, and achievements of children but also as places to push out information about pop culture, fashion, comedy, and, yes, politics. Free speech would be the rule. And virtually everyone now had easy access to the means of making themselves seen and heard. As political surprises accumulated, the general buzz about social media turned from a celebration of free speech to a proliferation of concerns and questions as to how the new platforms could be better regulated.

With the onset of COVID-19, those who had the desire to control social media and free speech via regulation finally found the perfect justification to assert control. What better reason to block the spread of purported disinformation than a global pandemic that exacted a heavy toll on human lives? The major social media engines yielded to government pressure to suppress voices judged to be guilty of disseminating disinformation.

Any theologically informed Christian can look at the situation and see the incredible potential for abuse. After all, who makes the call on what qualifies as disinformation, especially in an underdeveloped and dynamic data environment? It is obvious that being able to label someone as a source of disinformation creates an opportunity to silence critics or political opponents. The temptation would be hard to deny, especially when fulfilling it can be clothed in apparent righteousness.

Despite the many satisfactions and power trips offered by a regime of disinformation policing, Meta CEO Mark Zuckerberg announced on Tuesday a retreat from content control and a move back toward a more laissez-faire approach to speech, admitting that fact-checkers “have destroyed more trust than they’ve created.” Instead of uniting with government officials in a kind of panopticon, Zuckerberg announced he would follow suit with X and Elon Musk in allowing good speech to correct bad speech instead of suppressing it.

What brought about the reversal? Two events stand out. First, Musk bought Twitter, renamed it X, and made shadowy operations transparent through the work of reporters such as Matt Taibbi. Second, Donald Trump achieved a second term in office after his loss in 2020. The center of gravity seemed to shift culturally just enough to help individuals such as Zuckerberg recover their previous belief in free speech as its own best mode of correction.

If we think carefully about the dangerous combination of sin and power, we may all realize that we have narrowly avoided—for now, at least—one of the greatest threats to a free society possible, which is to allow an influential elite control over political and social discourse.