Facebook’s announcement in May that it was opening its Web-development tools to outsiders has been the biggest news in the Web world since the arrival of YouTube, in 2005. The announcement came amid a massive increase in the number of Facebook’s visitors—it doubled to 26 million between September 2006 and May 2007—and a growing sense that MySpace’s reign as the unchallenged kingpin of social media was coming to a close.
I still believe that a lot of the “Web 2.0” hype is just that—hype—and that many of the putatively revolutionary advances in sites like MySpace, not to mention the scores of copycat sites still springing up around the Web, will quickly become commoditized (see “The Web 2.0 Bubble,” April Atlantic). They rely too much on the packaging and marketing of tools that exist elsewhere on the Web, and they lack a compelling retention mechanism, which leaves them open to the quickly changing loyalties of their (mostly young) users. This is what happened to Friendster, which lost most of its mojo almost overnight after MySpace—shinier, sexier, scarier to grown-ups—hove into view.
I stand by this general principle, but at the moment I’m completely entranced by the new, turbo-charged Facebook. It’s the best mousetrap I’ve seen since I first laid eyes on eBay. No wonder that, in a moment of perhaps accidental honesty, Rupert Murdoch, CEO of News Corporation, the owner of MySpace, said when asked about the flood of people signing up for MySpace, “I wish they were. They’re all going to Facebook.”
Facebook was started by Mark Zuckerberg, 23, while he was a student at Harvard in 2004. The general concept was to digitize the legendary freshman-year “facebook,” and allow students not only to gawk at one another’s photos but also to flirt, network, interact. The site’s instant popularity prompted Zuckerberg, showing a restraint beyond his years, to roll out the site to other colleges rather than opening it up to everyone—first elite schools, then more broadly. The mode of expansion was itself ingenious because it forswore willy-nilly growth in favor of building meaningful communities whose interlocking loyalties tied them more closely to Facebook. Eventually, the site moved beyond college to high-school networks, then company networks, then everyone. At the same time, it began adding features, most notably one last year that allows you to track what your friends are doing on Facebook.
At the moment, Facebook is the site that, in my experience, comes closest to fulfilling the promise of social media. In so doing, it raises some bigger questions about how we’re going to be using the Web in the future and whether some of the received wisdom about the Internet—that we’re headed inexorably toward a digital universe of chaotic, endlessly shifting interactivity—is true.
The catchall term social media encompasses Web applications that allow individuals to create their own pages—filled with postings, photos, video, and portable applications generally called “widgets”—and interact with other users. The theory is that these networks will create a virtual environment in which like-minded people can find one another. In practice, as with Goldilocks and the porridge, the gruel tends to be too hot or too cold. On MySpace, the flood of pseudo-buddies and marketing come-ons disguised as offers of friendship quickly becomes suffocating. Too hot. On a business-networking site like LinkedIn, the very nature of the concept becomes self-defeating: The subset of people you want to schmooze with and who want to schmooze with you is simply too small, and too difficult to separate from the much larger group of people you are trying to avoid or who are trying to avoid you. Too cold.
Facebook is getting the temperature just right, and in the process has been able to give social media real social capital. Gathering friends on MySpace requires nothing more than banging through a lot of profiles and “friending” everyone you find. I know relatively few of my MySpace friends. I know most of my Facebook friends; I even like some of them. This is because Facebook prompts users to explain how they know one another. It’s no idle feature, since, as you quickly discover, allowing users into your circle allows them to track your moves on Facebook and vice versa. Even more compellingly, it allows you to track, if you wish, their interactions with other users, all from your own user page. You can play with your privacy settings to prevent this, but as you become acculturated to the site, you realize that you have to give information to get information.
Meanwhile, unlike almost any other service on the Web, Facebook lets you decide to restrict this activity to your friend group and/or hide it from Google’s prying eyes. The experience is initially unnerving, but once you get the hang of it, you start feeling like you’re part of some great undulating, pulsing virtual experiment—like that scene in Wim Wenders’s Wings of Desire when Cassiel and Damiel wander Berlin hearing the innermost thoughts of everyone around them, except funnier and less pretentious. There’s even a cool little app called Friend Wheel that charts the connections among your friends and presents it as a nice spin-art-type graphic.
Moreoever, Facebook’s stricter registration process has, to date, largely spared it from the spam and other commercial elements that are making MySpace so unsatisfying. You can, of course, simply refuse to “friend” a direct-marketing come-on on MySpace, but when you start getting five, six, or a dozen of them a day, you dread logging on. Facebook’s solution to this problem is cunning: As in real life, the Facebook interface makes it hard to access new people unless you have friends in common or are part of a preexisting network, often policed through e-mail addresses (for example, I can join the Atlantic Monthly network, which is filled with Atlantic Monthly employees, only if I have an Atlantic Monthly e-mail address). This system not only makes spamming imposingly difficult, but has engendered a culture that makes it simply unacceptable.