I love the internet too much to participate in its downfall. I love email, and instant messaging, and frolicking though links. I love that the internet lets people be creative in the ways we communicate with one another.
Facebook is a walled garden, and that's a problem even the mighty AOL couldn't overcome. But the real problem is that it's stagnant. It was stagnant from the very beginning. No matter how many sites integrate Facebook buttons, or how many people use it as their primary means of communication, Facebook is still stagnant. It doesn't have the full range of creativity and possibility offered by the unconstrained World Wide Web. It never has, and it never will.
More to the point, those who rely on Facebook also lose those avenues of creativity. Rather than create a new website or real-world marketing campaign, Adidas slaps an ad on TV and tells people to go to facebook.com/adidas for more information. Instead of organizing workers to demand better conditions in their factories, people just "like" an article and circulate a Facebook petition. Those things are not evil, or wrong, or even completely ineffectual. Unfortunately, they have become replacements for other actions or avenues of communication, and that's bad for everyone.
It's even bad for Facebook.
Even more than all that, I'm supremely uncomfortable with the fact that my every action is being recorded and fed into a program that is used to make marketing decisions. Sure, that happens with Google and Bing, and the Washington Post certainly tracks user behavior. But with Facebook, those advertising models aren't just based on my actions; they're based on my friends and their actions.
If I'm friends with William and William "likes" a Budweiser page, then there's a database somewhere that is waiting to serve me a Budweiser ad.
No big deal, really. But that's the sort of thing that happens with every action and interaction on Facebook. Even if I never share any personal information or "like" a page or article, Facebook has a marketing profile for me.
Remember that computer you had in college? It ran Windows 95 (if you're as old as I am) or Win98 or Me. It came with Outlook Express, which helpfully integrated with your Hotmail account. You emailed with your friends, signed up for notifications from your favorite record store, and felt like you were connected to the world.
Then one of your friends clicked on a link in an... uh... adult website, and ended up with a virus on his computer. It ransacked his Outlook Express address book, and suddenly your pristine Hotmail account was receiving dumptruck loads of Russian spam. You did nothing wrong, but the internet's cloud of mosquitoes and horseflies descended upon you nonetheless.
No matter how well you control your behavior and activity on Facebook, you'll always be at the mercy of your friends' worst judgement.
For more than a year now, I've been bored with the superficial social interaction of Facebook, and wondering if it justified the cynical marketing exposure and risk to my personal contact information. For a long time, it seemed like the risks were worth the rewards. The balance has been shifting steadily toward the "no" end of the scale. It's not quite there, but I feel like I'm nearing a tipping point.
Why It Hasn't Happened Yet
In short? Because there are a few of my friends who only contact me through Facebook, and I don't want to lose touch. I have to wonder if they'd shift back to email should my account suddenly disappear, but I'm not yet ready to take that plunge. The scales are pretty equally balanced, and in this case, I'm more than happy to err on the side of staying in touch.
But I'm warning you, Facebook: thin ice. The next move that either erodes my ability to interact with my friends or chips away with my ability to preserve my online identity... then I'm outta there.
