Of course, creativity tends to flourish in very specific formats of digital platforms. Vine’s six-second videos are perhaps the most famous example of innovation under extreme creative limits. In recent years, rapid technical adoption and endless experimentation by TikTok creators have shown that extraordinary things can be created with a relatively limited set of features. And as for the writing, perhaps brevity really is the key: Some research suggests we were all so much better at Twitter in the 140 character days.
But the limitations on the web today refer not only to what our tools encourage us to do on a technical level, but also to what is as, more broadly, to use a platform. “In the old-school Internet that he was on as a teenager, the limitations were the tools,” says DeVito. “Could you create a successful viral video in 1996? No, we didn’t have the technology or infrastructure to distribute that video. For a one minute video, I would spend two days uploading it and no one would have had the connection to download it. The systems did not allow that kind of expression.”
But today, he explains, technical limitations are compounded by limitations around things like moderation and audience. If I post something, will the platform allow me to remain active? And if it stays, will that content expose you to harassment from other users? She gives the example of trans creators, whose art depicting themselves or their friends is often a particular target of both the platform’s moderation tools and harassment from other users. “That starts to feel like a much bigger restriction,” she says. “Because you have all these tools to build things and you have a system that tells you, ‘Your expression is not welcome here.’ That’s not necessarily what they’re trying to say, but that’s what it feels like every time.”
Online content creation today is inextricably intertwined with these social components. DeVito discusses trans creators blocking accounts or withdrawing to private digital spaces to share their work in a safer environment, reflecting behavior seen in many communities across the web in recent years, as users abandon large free platforms like Tumblr. and Twitter to closed ones like Discord, or even leave the online world altogether. For DeVito, the question of whether today’s Internet users would know what to do with open spaces is almost beside the point: “I think if Generation Z needed to go back to old-school tools, they would figure it out in less than a day and improve them,” she says. “They’re smart.” But the current spaces, she explains, are known quantities: flawed but clearly defined, users collectively share how to safely navigate them. “In that scenario, it wouldn’t be that we don’t know how to create” , she says, “It would be that we don’t know how to protect ourselves.”
the present moment It feels like a tipping point for digital platforms across the web: Far beyond Twitter’s woes, there’s a sense that people feel boxed in, even when they’re not sure what better spaces to create and create could look like. communicate. Looking at the discussions around any potential Twitter replacement, it’s easy to see competing and sometimes outright conflicting wants and needs. Compare, for example, those who want smaller, controlled conversations from decentralized spaces with creators who have built careers on scaled, engagement-driven sites. The technical sticking points that bind a Mastodon instance are insurmountable barriers for some and a central draw for others. Content policies in other proposed Twitter alternatives could limit hate speech, but also punish people who speak openly about gender and sexuality. No platform will solve everyone’s problems, but right now, it often feels like our current platforms aren’t solving anyone’s problems.