Although I am “Generation Facebook,” I do not use the social network much, except for everything around my hobby: social dancing. Within the dancing community, almost all event planning and communication is done via Facebook. So I am very dependent on both the main app and Messenger for this part of my life.
With Meta’s recent moves to endorse political extremism, hate speech and general nastiness, I am no longer comfortable supporting their business. But keeping in touch with my friends and engaging in shared activities would become onerous, even impossible, if I had to use other routes. What is the ethical thing to do? — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
I’m not an expert on Meta’s internal workings, but like many, I’ve long assumed that social media plays a role in political polarization. Meta’s platforms, notably Facebook, are engineered to keep users engaged, and outrage would seem to be a reliable tool for doing that. Still, recent research complicates the picture. A study published in Science found that during the 2020 election cycle, Facebook users who were switched to a raw, chronological feed were no less politically polarized than those using the algorithmic one.
That doesn’t let Facebook off the hook — some of its design choices have clearly intensified the worst dynamics online. A telling example: In 2017, not long after the “angry” emoji was introduced, Facebook’s algorithm gave it five times the weight of a “like,” figuring that stronger emotion meant stronger engagement. Internal research later showed that anger-generating posts were often hateful or misleading; maybe a bigger problem for Facebook was that users didn’t like seeing that emoji on their posts. By 2020, the company zeroed out its weight. A result was less misinformation — and, reportedly, no drop in engagement. The people at Facebook didn’t set out to promote extremism, but its model encouraged it, until they decided to course-correct.
Some people are worried that Facebook is now drifting in the opposite direction — making more room for political extremism and hate speech. Earlier this year, Meta rolled out “community notes” for U.S. users, a crowdsourced system for “adding context,” modeled on an X feature and replacing the use of professional third-party fact checkers. Many see this as a response to sustained conservative pressure, particularly to the charge that Facebook’s fact checkers disproportionately targeted right-wing content. (Fact checkers have countered that conservative outlets simply produced more misinformation.)
Meta’s revised content guidelines have raised further concerns. One recent change, for instance, allows users to impute mental illness or call people “weird” on the basis of gender or sexual orientation, citing “political and religious discourse” and “common nonserious usage.” Now, I support broad latitude for free expression online. If someone wants to call someone else “weird,” for any reason, I don’t think Facebook needs to step in. I’d just block the user if this became a habit. But this proviso appears to single out L.G.B.T.Q. people. That’s, well, a little weird. It doesn’t suggest a principled commitment to openness; it looks like ideological appeasement.
Allowing speech, to be sure, isn’t the same as endorsing it. A platform truly committed to viewpoint neutrality could permit a wide range of views without signaling approval. But critics say some of Meta’s policy changes feel less like viewpoint neutrality and more like tactical political realignment.
So, given your concerns, what should you do? There’s a personal argument for leaving — maybe you’re finding more nasty surprises in your feed and find it unsettling. Or maybe you simply don’t want to be complicit in a system that accommodates and even rewards cruelty or disinformation. Those are both serious considerations.
But unless your departure is part of a larger movement, it won’t affect Meta’s behavior. And leaving might cut you off from people you care about — like your dance partners. Holding your nose and staying could be wiser. That doesn’t mean soaking in the cesspool. You can tweak your settings and treat Facebook more like a group chat than a broadcast.
In the end, Facebook isn’t a neutral public square, but it’s not a cartoon villain either. It’s a business, shaped by incentives, feedback loops and pressure. If we want better platforms, we need to be clear not just about what we reject but also about the kind of digital world we’d like to see. You can’t ask that a large public arena be restricted to those who share your values; you can ask for rules that are transparent, just and evenly applied. Fairness and freedom don’t always dance well together — but if people with different views are going to share the floor, we need to make sure there’s room for everyone to move.
A Bonus Question
I am a federal employee who is eligible for retirement. I have a job that is intellectually challenging, gives back to the public and is personally rewarding. As federal government employees in my department face potential layoffs, is it ethical for me to defer retirement? There would be no negative impact for me, and I am certain I would be offered other jobs because of my expertise. — Name Withheld
From the Ethicist:
You may believe that retiring would spare someone else from being laid off, but in reality, it’s hard to know whether your departure would do so. Work-force reductions are typically complex, and the ripple effects of one departure are difficult to predict.
There are, in the meantime, countless ways to help others without stepping away from work that you value. Just for example, it has been estimated that donating $3,000 — about $50 a week for a year — could save a life through organizations like the Malaria Consortium. (With the recent evisceration of our global health programs, private donations to effective charities are more vital than ever.)
And your continued service has worth — to you and to the agency. The presence of someone skilled, experienced and committed to public service could strengthen the agency, at a time when the federal work force faces unprecedented strain. Staying can help stabilize the “ship of state” — an important benefit in these turbulent times.
Readers Respond
The previous question was from a reader who was mulling the ethics of buying used books and music, knowing the creator won’t receive proceeds of the sale. He wrote: “Is it ethical to buy used books and music instead of new copies that will financially reward the author or artist? What do consumers owe to producers of art?”
In his response, the Ethicist noted: “Artists can benefit from secondary markets in real, if less tangible, ways. Works that circulate widely can enhance the artist’s reputation, whether it’s a book read and passed along, a record rediscovered in a thrift shop or a painting resold at auction. Enthusiastic new audiences, prominent displays and word-of-mouth appreciation can all contribute to a creator’s stature.
“What artists, especially the good ones, are owed is not a cut of every encounter we have with their work but a system that gives them a real opportunity to sell their work, to build a career, to find a public. After that, their creations rightly become part of the wider cultural world, as with books in a library or paintings in a museum, where countless people can enjoy them freely across the generations.” (Reread the full question and answer here.)
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Thank goodness that people can buy used books. Not every person has access to a public library, and many school libraries only allow students one book for a week. And let’s face it, if you are not rich, free or cheap books are a godsend to readers. I grew up in a reading family, even though we had little money. We delighted in books. Two of us became librarians! — Leda
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The artist agreed with and made a contract with the original publishing company. If we assume the artist received their agreed payment, then they’ve already been paid for their work. From the consumer’s point of view, I was never going to purchase their book full price, so they were never going to receive money from me regardless. — Al
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Most of the world’s books are out of print. May all those who run secondhand bookshops be blessed: While you exist, those words and themes aren’t lost. — Jackie
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The ripple effect of buying used books or music to raise an artist’s profile calls to my mind the Grateful Dead’s policy of allowing the taping of their shows. Tapes, which brought the band no direct income, were widely distributed, growing the band’s audience into the juggernaut it became. — Bob
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Writers write to be read. Only a fool would believe that a traditionally published writer will make a living at writing. We writers’ best chance to have our work read (in traditional book form) is through the sale of used copies of our books. Aside from thrift shops and other secondhand stores, there are wonderful online marketplaces for used physical books. These have provided a lifeline to writers who previously had little chance of their out-of-print work being purchased and read. Now their entire output is probably, and affordably, available to the public. An unread book is a paper corpse. An opened book springs immediately to life. You don’t have to pay us. But please, read us. — Jim