Social networks aren’t forever

And it’s nobody’s fault

Every time a prominent social media platform falters, I watch a fallout of tech news articles offering intelligent and well-articulated opinions on what went wrong and who messed it up. All based on the fundamental assumption that a social application is a machine that stops running only if it breaks down — or when abandoned in favor of a better machine.

And yet only a decade ago social networks were largely considered a peculiar and volatile business. Myspace (est. 2003) killed Friendster (est. 2002), and Facebook (est. 2004) destroyed Myspace. Numerous smaller social networks rose up to millions of users and vanished in a year or three. Compared to that, Twitter and Facebook have been hanging in there for a long time, perhaps giving some hope to those who want to believe in the notion of “social infrastructure” — something that, if managed well, is meant to last as long as the internet.

The myth of an immortal social app is what helped to drum up big investments and huge valuations in the past. The idea that a social network could live forever is worth a lot of money. Here’s hoping!

I intend to live forever. So far, so good.
— Steven Wright

Twitter is stuck at 330 million active users and carries an ever-increasing number of abandoned accounts — already over 1 billion. They say Facebook is broken, but really, it’s just getting old. Both literally (fifteen this year!) and figuratively (as in, no longer interesting or exciting). Instagram is still kicking. It’s only eight years of age. Snapchat used to show some promise for a longer life, but already has one foot in the grave at seven.

New = hope

We are constantly drawn to explore new possibilities. We find excitement and happiness in the pursuit. The chase is better than the catch.

I often think about the rise and fall of LiveJournal — it was popular among college students when I was one. How the atmosphere changed over the years. Why at first it was a place to create, to exchange ideas, meet interesting people, and have fun… and then it wasn’t. Even before other platforms, like Facebook, took over. Something great had been happening for a while, but it did not last forever. The platform itself and it’s functionality hardly changed at all. The difference was in how people felt and what they did — or stopped doing. The magic, the excitement and the enthusiasm were gone.

But why? Were our hopes not realized? Partly. Some were and some weren’t. What’s important is that there was nothing left to hope for. The reality of the space became predictable and understood. It ceased to be an adventure. And it turned out that adventure was the real reason why we were there.

Despite the abundance or higher quality modern social apps, some of my friends still wish for “something like LiveJournal”. Whether they realize it or not, what they are truly wishing for is the experience of feeling young and hopeful. Another adventure rather than an up-to-date version of a blogging platform with its popularity back. And in fifteen years the twenty-year-olds of today, I am certain, will be wishing for “something like Instagram”.

Flowers, trees and stepping stones

No matter how many new features Facebook implements, it remains Facebook. It’s a progression of incremental modifications — there is no starting over. Like a tree growing branches while its roots stay planted in the same ground.

The is true of Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, Vine, Periscope and all others. Most social apps are more like biennial flowering plants than trees in their lifespan. But none of them can become something they are not. None can be reborn as something different and new.

The problem is not in features, code, design or management. All of that can be reinvented, updated and changed. The reason is us. While we are attracted to the new, we want the old to stay constant and familiar. Going to new places is not the same as seeing the surroundings change before your eyes. The latter is likely to be frustrating and unsettling.

No one owns the social graph

Making social connections online is only becoming easier, which means there is less territory for the social platforms to stake. Being able to find people used to be the attraction of Facebook. That was before the phones went online. Now you have your contact list, and if you meet someone new, just exchange phone numbers and you can call them, text them, and find them in or invite them to any social app you care to explore together.

In the long run there will be little or no money in keeping people connected or letting them upload videos. Twitter may be the Gutenberg of short text messages, but there is no reason to be stuck with one publishing house for all eternity. Especially online and especially after Twitter fades away, a few more generations of social platforms come and go, and the nature of what is happening becomes clear.

Experiences, not tools

The term “users” is wrong. So are “services” and “tools”. Social apps are the clubs, the venues, the setting. People are the authors, the actors, the audience, the participants, the frequenters, the artists, the scene. Some come to make a living, but all are there for the experience.

The fact that the platform creators have — and they do — a lot of influence over that experience is both a blessing and a curse. From the start, they are part of the artistic process, because making a social medium is an art in itself. Like fashion designers, they impose and reflect the trends of today, but cannot save their creations from going out of vogue tomorrow.

It’s alright. In with the new.