Is Social Media a Community?
In college, I found it dumb when my classmates tried to rate the quality of a frat party. When one person asked, “how was Sigma Chi?” and another responded, “bad,” only for the first to say, “really? I heard it was good.”
Frat parties were cesspools of sweat. The quality was determined by one factor alone, the ranking could be binary—good if you got laid, bad if you didn’t.
I felt similarly about people rating new Twitter competitors as they rolled out. Each one—Post, Mastodon, Bluesky, Threads, Hive—was only as good as the people you saw, and (for us posters) the people who saw you.
Here’s a rundown of each:
I liked Threads because it was created by Facebook, so it linked to Instagram and seeded me with a following.
I also hated Threads because it was created by Facebook, and Facebook is bad.
I liked Mastodon because it was so confusing that I didn’t really waste time reading my feed, but somehow, others still found me.
I didn’t like Post because it seemed like no one was seeing my tweets. I truly think if I were ever to create a social media platform, I’d ensure every Poster went viral once in the first week, just to keep them addicted. (I’m not saying I’m going to do it!!! I’m just saying, if I were a dirty capitalist, I’d do it well).
But I loved them all, at first. A new social media app buzzes with excitement. There’s a magic to a social network inaugural penetration of the public’s consciousness. A magic we only knew in the wake of Elon’s takeover of Twitter.
There’s something we share the moment we sign up; a rare instant of commonality on the vast internet. In my first day on Threads, every post was about Threads itself. We were engaging with it, discovering it, pushing it to its limits, posting pictures of our penises to find out whether or not they would be removed. We were alive, and we were together.
It didn’t matter what app, people got excited about a new one, they joined, and then, they did something unexpected. Shocking. Stupefying. They introduced themselves.
Whole threads of new users jumping in to say hello. To greet each other. To say hi to old pals they followed on a long-lost platform. As though we were at a party together. As though we were a community.
Perhaps it’s a feature of the people who join a social network early—we don’t wait until someone else has told us the content is interesting. We want to be the content. We’re adventurous, willing to meet someone new.
Or perhaps it’s a feature of the social network’s newness. It’s yet to wrong anybody. To say a social network is “good” is to say it’s “not yet bad.” Our interest is theirs to lose. Don’t try to impress us; just try not to disappoint us.
I used to scoff at the idea that Twitter was a “global town square.” For one thing, that sounds like hell (so in that sense, it’s accurate). For another, Twitter is far too large and messy for that to be true. There’s no single tweet anybody sees. Nobody stands on the tallest platform to be heard by all. We’re siloed.
But does that siloing mean Twitter is not a community? Well, that depends on your definition. According to dictionary.com, a community is:
a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.
a feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.
In that sense, social media surely is a community. The shared characteristic is the usage itself. And a “feeling of fellowship” is so loose that anything qualifies. Arguably, that’s what my new-app-high is. For a brief time, we’re all in fellowship, exploring this new world.
On the other hand, under this definition, essentially everything is a community. When I take the subway, we all share the characteristic of being on the subway—does that make us a community? When the F train gets delayed 15 minutes between stops, is that just the MTA trying to bond us? Idk, but don’t give them any ideas!
I put the question of whether or not social media was a community to my followers (my Twitter community, if you will. But perhaps you won’t). The majority said No.
Some claimed the monetization of these platforms undermined the community. “There used to be a possibility to cultivate [community] on these platforms, before the ads and sponsorship and subscription pushes took over. Now it’s basically all media and no social,” wrote one woman.
Others argued it was a negative community. “Social media is a corporate-controlled community,” said one. “A different and much worse kind of community,” said a second. “It's the McDonald’s of personal engagement,” said another. “Fancy pictures up on the board, the reality looks nothing like it, gives some basic endorphins, and you're hungry again in 20 minutes.” I saw his point, but McDonald’s is still technically a restaurant.
Some argued it was a container for micro-communities. “It’s not one community, but it’s a way to find your community,” said one woman. Others echoed her sentiment, even arguing that for specific people, it was the only way to find a community. Not everyone feels safe on all parts of social media, but many find places where they do; they can access communities they couldn’t IRL. A few said that if you connected with those you knew IRL, it could be an extension of a community you already had.
And many seemed to think social media was what you made of it. “It’s not a community by default,” said one person, “but it can become one.”
Their responses prompted three follow-up questions:
does a community have to be good?
do members of a community need to know they’re in it?
are all social media apps the same type of community?
For the first question—I’m of the opinion that the labeling of large entities as “good” or “bad” is relatively toxic; it’s that type of thinking that can prevent someone in a so-called “good” community to seek an exit, even if the community isn’t serving them. All communities come with potential downsides—exclusion, for one, or folding nuances into a false collective agreements.
I understand why social media interactions are worse than IRL ones. I find it far easier to hate someone when I only know them online, or to assume they hate me. Perhaps it’s because what you see of someone in real life—a smile, a hug, eye contact (for those who partake)—endears them to you. Then again, a community must include people who don’t like each other. What is a sorority?
For my second question, I wondered if a community required collective acknowledgement. The majority of social media users never like or comment on anything. These people are known as “lurkers” or “normal,” depending on who you ask. But if I were to use the phrase “the New York City community,” I think it’s fair to say I’m referring to people who don’t leave their apartments (myself included, some days).
One person claimed it was an imagined community, in which people perceive themselves as part of a socially-constructed community. I understand the distinction, but social constructs are pretty broad. A community of those of your same gender, for example, or a nuclear family, both fall under the umbrella of a “socially-constructed community,” as those entities are social constructs. I’m not sure a community requires universal agreement. If it did, one contrarian would be able to spoil every community. We can’t give them power.
My third question: are all social media apps the same level of community? I asked the question on Twitter and received Twitter-specific answers, but perhaps those weary of the bird app needed the buzz of a new social network, one that hadn’t yet been successful enough to be ruined with monetization. In the same way you can find your community on a large network, maybe you can find the right network to contain your community.
The features of an app can determine if a community forms. With Twitter, quote-tweets allow you to engage with someone else’s content on your page. Twitter and Instagram feature polls, which allow for more interaction. The more an app encourages interaction, the more communal it is—though this can have downsides, as the part of point of quote-tweeting is dunking on strangers. Actually, I think that’s the whole point.
On the other hand, social media apps continuously update their features, so I wouldn’t feel confident saying that the feature alone makes one or the other a community.
And why does this all matter? Is social media only worthwhile if it’s a community? I’d argue no; it’s still a source of entertainment and information and creative expression. But then again, “social” is right there in the name—it’s media you’re meant to interact with.
And we do. So, I’d say yes, social media is a community, in the broadest sense of the term. That doesn’t mean it’s perfect, or that everyone feels welcome on every part of social media—merely that it is a collective of people who share something.
Speaking of sharing (so so so sorry), feel free to share this newsletter with a friend if you enjoy.
xoxoxo
Ginny