Whither the Facebook Purge?

The other day, a bout of online drama made me won­der if it wouldn’t be a good idea to make my online activ­i­ties a lit­tle more pri­vate — hide my Twit­ter feed, for exam­ple, and maybe un-friend some peo­ple on Face­book to restrict it to just my “core” friends.

Facebook Friends List

Do I actu­ally want to know what 281 peo­ple are doing?

But in doing so, I thought for prob­a­bly the first time about the direc­tion Face­book has taken with regards to friend­ships and view­ing friends’ updates.

Firstly, unlike Twit­ter, when some­one you know “friends” you on Face­book, the socially accept­able thing to do is to accept.  Rather than say­ing “it’s great that you’re inter­ested in me, but I’m not as inter­ested in you, so I won’t ‘fol­low’ you back,” Face­book man­dates a two-way inter­est.  So if some­one “friends” you, you either have to ignore them (and feel slightly guilty about it) or com­mit your­self to see­ing their updates.

Sec­ondly, Face­book is becom­ing less of a place to catch up with friends, and more of an iden­tity ser­vice (which has been accel­er­ated with the new Time­line pro­files).  Your Face­book pro­file defines you; tells oth­ers who you are and who you know.  This adds to the impe­tus to “friend” peo­ple you don’t really care about that much — you’re not so much express­ing an inter­est in another per­son as defin­ing who you are.  And that, of course, also lum­bers you with look­ing at their updates all the time.

It’s obvi­ous that this is a com­mon issue, and rather than backpedal or restrict the way Face­book wants to take its ser­vice, their response has been to add com­plex fil­ter­ing options that let you block spe­cific users and apps, view only updates from var­i­ous groups, and recently, adding an auto­mated fil­ter that tries to guess which updates you’ll want to see.

Per­son­ally, I pre­fer using Face­book via the API (using Suc­cess­Whale) which avoids the auto­mated fil­ter, but I must still block the updates of peo­ple I don’t care much about man­u­ally.  I’d quite like to cull my Face­book friends list down to just those whose updates I actu­ally care about.  But is doing so a rea­son­able way of reduc­ing my infor­ma­tion over­load — or will­ingly dam­ag­ing an iden­tity that I spent the last four years try­ing to curate?

Announcing: SuccessWhale version 2.0!

Ladies and Gen­tle­men of the Inter­net, I am pleased to announce that Suc­cess­Whale ver­sion 2.0 has just been released and is now live on SuccessWhale.com.

Suc­cess­Whale is a web-based client for Twit­ter and Face­book, writ­ten in PHP, JavaScript and MySQL. It offers a multi-column view that allows users to merge together infor­ma­tion from all their con­nected accounts and view it at a glance from any web browser.

The big changes between ver­sion 1.1.2 and 2.0 are:

  • Face­book support
  • Sup­port for mul­ti­ple Twit­ter (and Face­book) accounts
  • As many columns as you want
  • Columns that com­bine mul­ti­ple feeds
  • Light­boxed images from Twit­pic and yFrog
  • New themes
  • Numer­ous bug fixes!

You can see a screen­shot of it in action below:

SuccessWhale Screenshot

I would par­tic­u­larly like to thank Alex Hut­ter, Hugo Day, Erica Ren­ton and Rg Enzon, whose help in find­ing bugs and sug­gest­ing new fea­tures has been instru­men­tal in bring­ing Suc­cess­Whale up to ver­sion 2.0 today.

Suc­cess­Whale is an open source project, and the source code is licenced under the GPL v3.

Could I Live Without…?

A cou­ple of months ago, I was par­tic­u­larly scathing about the crop of Face­book games that I was play­ing, par­tic­u­larly ones that had no end. The result? I no longer play any games on Face­book what­so­ever. As I bemoaned at length, not one of them was adding to my life in any appre­cia­ble way.

I won­der if it is now a good time to apply the same logic to var­i­ous online ser­vices — to be extremely crit­i­cal of them, to dis­cover whether or not they actu­ally add any value to my life. In short, could I live without…

 

1. A Google Account

As a search engine, Google is almost essen­tial to life on the inter­net today.  Like a lot of you, I have signed up to many Google ser­vices over the years, each one sim­ply on the merit that it was bet­ter than the com­pe­ti­tion (if there even was com­pe­ti­tion).  I go through phases of being alarmed at the amount of data Google col­lates about us all — their “do no evil” pol­icy is wear­ing thin in the eyes of their cus­tomers.  But could I man­age with­out mail, cal­en­dars and con­tacts syn­chro­nised between my phone and the web?  With­out the near-endless enter­tain­ment of Google Reader?  With­out the Android Market?

Although I resent Google’s domin­ion over my online exis­tence, its offer­ings are just bet­ter than oth­ers’.  And hav­ing an Android phone seals the deal.

Ver­dict: No.

 

2. GMail

If I can’t live with­out a Google account, maybe I should just dump the GMail part of it?  I’ve actu­ally done this once before; moved my e-mail whole­sale to my own server.  But I went back — it’s a nice feel­ing to be in charge, to have your own mail server, but every­thing was so much harder.  “Archiv­ing” and “tag­ging” become a multi-click ‘move’ oper­a­tion, IMAP has a host of strange issues, and no web­mail client is a patch on Google’s.

Ditch­ing GMail appeals, but two months down the line I’d prob­a­bly spend another evening mov­ing every­thing back again.

Ver­dict: Prob­a­bly not.

 

3. Twit­ter

I sus­pect I’m in the minor­ity, in that I fol­low no celebri­ties and don’t use Twit­ter for any­thing to do with “brand aware­ness” or “cus­tomer inter­ac­tion”.  I use it for talk­ing to my friends.  There are sim­ply too many of us, online too irreg­u­larly, to use instant mes­sag­ing — or god for­bid, phone calls — any more.  (Whether that says some­thing about the qual­ity of our inter­ac­tion, I’m not sure.)  But with­out Twit­ter I’d be largely unaware of what’s going on in the lives of the dozen or so peo­ple I care about the most.  Though my posts may be triv­ial and of inter­est to few, los­ing Twit­ter would be close to los­ing friends.

Ver­dict: No.

 

4. Face­book

The social net­work we love to hate, there are a whole host of rea­sons peo­ple would want to quit — dis­re­gard for pri­vacy, end­less Far­mville spam, lack of trans­parency / import & export func­tions — but yet, so few do.  I don’t play games on Face­book, I rarely post pho­tos, I don’t “like” pages or take quizzes.  I have around 300 “friends”, many of whom I haven’t seen since school and wouldn’t recog­nise in the street.

But there’s a few close friends and fam­ily that don’t use Twit­ter, and clos­ing my Face­book account would mean cut­ting them off.  And besides, there’s always that nag­ging thought: “you’re 26 years old, every 26-year-old is on Facebook!”

Ver­dict: It’s tempt­ing to try.

 

5. Google+

Like many geeks, I am an “early adopter” of Google+, a social net­work that’s still in beta.  Now and again I load the page or run the mobile app, to see what peo­ple have posted — and they’ve posted exactly the same as they posted on Twit­ter.  Plus, with­out an API, I never bother to man­u­ally copy my own Twit­ter and Face­book posts to G+ too.

It’s nice to be in there in case it picks up and becomes the next Social Net­work to Rule them All.  But right now, it’s tak­ing up brain power and space on my book­marks tool­bar, and I’m gain­ing noth­ing from it.

Ver­dict: Yes.

 

6. Live­Jour­nal

All my Live­Jour­nal posts are already syn­di­cated from my blog, and I go through phases of dis­abling com­ments on my LJ posts to drag peo­ple to com­ment on the blog itself.  It rarely works, but I have so lit­tle inter­ac­tion with peo­ple through Live­Jour­nal these days that it barely mat­ters.  Live­Jour­nal is dying, at least from my per­spec­tive, and I have already declared it time to quit.  Per­haps now is the time.

Ver­dict: Yes.

 

7. DeviantArt

Once upon a time, I posted sto­ries here with reg­u­lar­ity.  Now, it’s a place I visit daily on the off-chance that one of the cou­ple of artists whose pic­tures I enjoy has posted some­thing.  Usu­ally, they havent.  This is what RSS was made for.

Ver­dict: Yes.

 

8. Flickr

Though firmly an ama­teur, I’m proud of my pho­tos and Flickr is where I choose to show them off.  It’s also where fam­ily mem­bers abroad go to see what we’re up to, and it’s my insur­ance against a hard disk crash eras­ing the bits and bytes of our mem­o­ries.  Just as with GMail, there’s a strong temp­ta­tion to move my pic­tures to my own server, and run my own image gallery — but Flickr just does it bet­ter.

Ver­dict: No.

 

9. Last.fm

I’ve been a keen scrob­bler since the days when peo­ple knew what “scrob­ble” meant, and it’s so easy to set up that I’ve always set it up on any new com­puter, oper­at­ing sys­tem or media player.  But why?  I know what my taste in music is, and I have lit­tle inter­est in my own lis­ten­ing his­tory.  My friends surely have even less.  The only rea­son I can see for con­tin­u­ing is that I’m proud of the amount of data I’ve gen­er­ated already — and that’s no rea­son at all for car­ry­ing on.

Ver­dict: Yes.

 

10. Foursquare

In using Foursquare, I may be just as much a vic­tim of the sunk cost fal­lacy as I was in all those Face­book games.  I’ve now been “play­ing” for so long that I’ve stopped car­ing about beat­ing my friends; stopped car­ing how far away the next wall-chart sticker might be.  Check­ing in is just some­thing I do when I arrive at a place.  I’m now essen­tially get­ting noth­ing out of Foursquare, even though I’m still reli­ably giv­ing the com­pany and its affil­i­ates a com­plete his­tory of where I go and where I shop.

Ver­dict: Hell yes, ditch this yesterday.

 

What are your thoughts on my rea­son­ing?  Which ser­vices are you tied to, and which are you con­sid­er­ing leav­ing for good?  I’d be inter­ested to know.

Geo-IP Security: Option Three

Face­book, and many other online ser­vices, have an almost-clever secu­rity mea­sure that tries to pro­tect users against account theft. It uses your IP address to do a “Geo-IP” lookup — that is, to fig­ure out roughly where in the world you nor­mally access the site from. If an access attempt hap­pens from else­where, the user will have to sup­ply extra infor­ma­tion to log in — often an “iden­tify this per­son from their tagged pho­tos” quiz.

Even if you pass this test of your iden­tity, how­ever, strange things some­times hap­pen — after a recent trip to France I found myself hav­ing to re-authenticate all my apps, and after a few days in Ger­many, my friend Pete could only restore nor­mal ser­vice by chang­ing his password.

I can see how this fea­ture could be use­ful for some peo­ple — per­haps even the major­ity — but for some it has the poten­tial to be a major irri­ta­tion. Not only is there no way to dis­able it in Facebook’s case, there’s also no way of vent­ing your frus­tra­tion when it goes hor­ri­bly wrong.

For this rea­son, I sug­gest that Facebook’s set­tings page needs the fol­low­ing options:

image

A Place for Google Plus?

“Google+”, Google’s new stab at social net­work­ing, is doing the rounds of tech news sites today. So what’s it like — if you scored an invite, should you be using it, and if you haven’t yet, are you miss­ing out?

If you’ve used Face­book — and let’s face it, you have — Google+‘s inter­face will be imme­di­ately intu­itive. A long feed of sta­tuses and shared links, the abil­ity to com­ment, re-share and “+1″ (i.e. like). It does pho­tos and videos, inte­grat­ing with Picasa. It does check-ins, inte­grat­ing with Lat­i­tude. It does text and video chat, inte­grat­ing with Google Talk. You’re prob­a­bly not sur­prised by any of this.

It’s most un-Facebook-like fea­ture is its “Cir­cles” — groups of peo­ple that you can share with eas­ily. This is pos­si­ble with Face­book groups, but there it’s the excep­tion rather than the rule. Google clearly intends for your Cir­cles to define the way you share, chat, and use Google+.

Google+ Circles Manager

Google+ Cir­cles Manager

If this is sound­ing a lot like Dias­pora to you, well… it is. Aside from the dis­trib­uted nature of Dias­pora, it’s vir­tu­ally iden­ti­cal — includ­ing the slow invite pro­ce­dure that causes it to be a vir­tual ghost town at the moment. Only time will tell if it suf­fers from the same prob­lem, the root cause of which being that it is not the world’s first social network.

It has some great ideas, and if nobody were mem­bers of Twit­ter or Face­book already, it would be easy to say “yeah, this is great, let’s all use this”. But Google+ requires effort — time taken to invite friends, curate your groups, set up shar­ing pref­er­ences. It’s a rea­son­able amount of effort to invest for peo­ple that aren’t sure if their friends are going to use it too.

But the biggest, most impor­tant issue is that it doesn’t, at present, inte­grate. With any­thing. Now it is still under heavy devel­op­ment; I’m sure inte­grat­ing with other ser­vices will come soon. But right now, it doesn’t talk to Twit­ter. It doesn’t talk to Face­book. It doesn’t have a pub­lic API to talk to third-party apps. I, and many other users, are so heav­ily invested in Twit­ter and Face­book that the tran­si­tion to Google+ has to be seam­less — it has to work along­side the other net­works, with­out any extra effort, oth­er­wise it’s just not worth the bother.

To make the point, this is how the net­works and apps that I cur­rently use inter­act: (yes, I was that bored)

Graph of my interaction with Social Networks

Graph of my inter­ac­tion with Social Networks

There’s not space on there for some­thing that accepts sta­tus updates, unless it’s sup­ported by Suc­cess­Whale or Tweet­Deck. There’s no space for some­thing that accepts check-ins, unless it syncs with Foursquare. No space for any­thing to use my pic­tures unless it can get them itself from Flickr. No space for another chat sys­tem unless I can use it from Pid­gin or Skype.

I don’t mean to be neg­a­tive to Google+ — it’s a good ser­vice which I’m sure, given time, will become great. One day it may be the new Face­book, a social net­work­ing behe­moth that all oth­ers aim for and com­pare them­selves to. And it actu­ally cares some­what about pri­vacy (for now), which would in my opin­ion make it a prefer­able king of the social net­works. Its UI is great; com­bin­ing Google’s char­ac­ter­is­tic min­i­mal­ism with some actual great design rather than just util­i­tar­ian blocks of colour.

Google+ for Android - Main FeedGoogle+ for Android - Friends & Circles

But for $deity’s sake, Google, give this thing a pub­lic API. As Twit­ter realised five years ago, the API is as impor­tant as — if not more impor­tant than — the ser­vice itself. Let us mix it up in weird and won­der­ful ways with the ser­vices we’re already using, and Google+ will instantly lose most of its bar­rier to entry.

Twitter, Facebook and the Expectation of Privacy

I’ve been asked a cou­ple of times why it is that my sta­tus posts on Face­book are locked down, vis­i­ble only to friends or some­times friends-of-friends:

Facebook post

…but yet with the same button-click that I post to Face­book, I post exactly the same thing, pub­licly, on Twitter:

Twitter post

Surely that’s undo­ing all the good of my Face­book pri­vacy settings?

The rea­son is because I’m not doing it for rea­sons of my pri­vacy — I’m doing it for yours, and what your expec­ta­tions of pri­vacy might be.

On Twit­ter, a reply to me is a first-class cit­i­zen — a tweet in its own right. It has a ‘reply ID’ field to help thread con­ver­sa­tions, and it men­tions my han­dle using the ‘@’ con­ven­tion, but oth­er­wise it is a tweet like any other. You, the replier, have one sim­ple pri­vacy set­ting — is your account pub­lic or pri­vate? Can the world see your tweets (includ­ing that reply) or just the peo­ple you allow?

By con­trast, on Face­book, a com­ment is a second-class cit­i­zen — a child of the orig­i­nal post. Implicit in this is that it inher­its the orig­i­nal post’s pri­vacy set­tings. As the com­menter, you do not have con­trol over who sees what you write. Assum­ing — as most have — that the orig­i­nal poster has accepted the default pri­vacy options, the com­menter has only one choice: either allow their reply to be pub­lic and search­able for the entire inter­net, or don’t reply.

On Face­book there’s no way I can let you set who can see your com­ments, so I do the best thing I can: make your com­ments vis­i­ble only to the 300 or so peo­ple who I am rea­son­ably sure are not evil. If you like, you can check the list and see if you object to any­body on it.

It’s not ideal, but it’s the best I can do to respect com­menters’ pri­vacy on a ser­vice that itself respects pri­vacy only grudgingly.

On Game Design: Time to Quit

Not long after my post about the game DJ Rivals, I fin­ished the main part of the game and hit a metaphor­i­cal wall. There was no more story; I’d bought every item in the store and mas­tered the game’s hard­est moves. The game tries to offer replay value via pro­gres­sively harder mis­sions based on those ear­lier in the game, and via bat­tles against human play­ers of com­pa­ra­ble level. The lat­ter offers noth­ing to play for apart from in-game money, which I already had in abun­dance, while the for­mer offers only the elu­sive car­rot of 100% com­ple­tion, which dan­gled too far dis­tant for me to want it much.

So I stopped play­ing — which is prob­a­bly fair enough. I’d played it, enjoyed it, fin­ished it and stopped. But it got me think­ing about the num­ber of games I’ve played that don’t end.

FarmVilleZynga’s Far­mville is per­haps the most well-known exam­ple I could give. At the begin­ning, the game is about design­ing a nice farm, plant­ing the most effi­cient crops, com­ing back to har­vest them and plant­ing some more. This is fun. Then it’s just some­thing you do. Then it’s annoy­ing. Then you start con­tem­plat­ing spend­ing real money on in-game items to auto­mate the process. At this point it’s clear that plant­ing and har­vest­ing crops is not the game — the game is hav­ing a big­ger and bet­ter farm than your friends. And the only way to achieve this, assum­ing you weren’t lucky enough to start first, is to be more devoted to the game or spend more real money than your friends do. (It shouldn’t sur­prise you that these are both things that make money for Zynga.)

A case of esca­la­tion of com­mit­ment (or com­mit­ment bias) can kick in, whereby the player has invested enough effort in the game that even though they are no longer enjoy­ing it, they can’t bear to quit. And this only gets worse over time, because unlike most non-social games, Far­mville and its kin don’t have an ‘end’. There’s no story to fin­ish, and because the mak­ers of the game can eas­ily add more, higher-level items to acquire or quests to ful­fill, there is no 100% com­ple­tion to aim for. You quit, or you play forever.

I am no bet­ter than the rest as regards being sucked into these games. Tac­tics in Bat­tle Sta­tions only extend as far as click­ing a but­ton and upgrad­ing your air­ship within one of a few effec­tive builds, yet my char­ac­ter made it to level 85 before I quit, real­is­ing that the rate at which new shiny equip­ment was added to the game out­stripped the rate at which I could acquire it. Starfleet Com­man­der is a good strat­egy game in its own right, but after hav­ing reached the end of the tech tree, I found noth­ing worth­while to aim for. The same flaw has turned me off Back­yard Mon­sters at level 36, too.

Backyard MonstersMore­over, all of these games suf­fer from a time delay mechanic that increas­ingly is enough to put me off a game (Dun­geon Over­lord, for exam­ple) all by itself. Now, part of the aim of all these games (from the cre­ators’ per­spec­tive) is to get users return­ing reg­u­larly to play — and view ads. To achieve this, every game I have men­tioned — and count­less thou­sands of oth­ers — have in-game activ­i­ties that take time of the order of hours or days. This, I think, is my main prob­lem with them.

In the vast major­ity of tra­di­tional com­puter and con­sole games, there is a con­cept of a gam­ing “ses­sion”. The player sits down to play the game, plays con­tin­u­ously, and stops when he or she is done. But the major­ity of the new breed of social games aren’t like that.

They begin with a rush of activ­ity, much like other games. You put the first few build­ings down in your base, plant the first few crops, start and fin­ish research­ing tech­nolo­gies within a few min­utes. At some point, you choose to stop. But the game hangs its car­rots just out of reach. “Sure,” it says, “you can stop. But your build­ing is only half an hour from being fin­ished. And once it’s fin­ished, you’ll be able to do this and this, and build this, which only takes a few hours…”

In the early stages, it grabs you back when you might pre­fer not to be play­ing. Later on, by con­trast, it switches around to per­haps the more annoy­ing mode. More advanced things tend to take longer to build, research, grow, or what­ever — pos­si­bly many days. So you’ll sit down for your gam­ing ses­sion, you’ll do your five min­utes of for­mu­laic click­ing, har­vest­ing your crops, plant­ing new ones, then… then you stop. You can’t do any more; you have to wait two days before you can play again. In two days, you spend five more min­utes click­ing the same things, then stop again.

Dungeon OverlordOnce upon a time, I enjoyed these Face­book games, and I thought I still did. But yes­ter­day, I logged in to do my five min­utes of click­ing, and realised all of a sud­den that it was exactly the same five min­utes of click­ing I had done the day before and the day before that. I was grind­ing towards a non-existent goal, per­form­ing mind­less tasks in search of a sense of com­ple­tion that I knew would never come.

I thought, “why am I doing this?”, and it dawned on me that I didn’t have an answer to that.

I love play­ing games, and pre­sum­ably always will. But I think I, and pos­si­bly oth­ers, need to get bet­ter at judg­ing the enjoy­a­bil­ity of games in this casual, social age. Cer­tain kinds of game and cer­tain games com­pa­nies are now remark­ably good at exploit­ing sunk cost and com­mit­ment bias, and in order to only play games that we enjoy, we should eval­u­ate the game bet­ter, and decide ear­lier when it may be time to quit.

SuccessWhale: Considering the Reply UI

What was once my sim­ple Twit­ter client, Suc­cess­Whale, is under­go­ing a lot of changes in the build-up to ver­sion 2. One of the biggest changes is the sup­port for mul­ti­ple ser­vices, of which Face­book is the first to be inte­grated. This, com­bined with the Twit­ter website’s new design, brings into ques­tion SuccessWhale’s “reply” UI.

There’s no ques­tion that there should be a big “type your sta­tus update here” box at the top. Both incar­na­tions of Twit­ter do this, Face­book does this, every non-mobile client (and a few mobile ones too) does it. It’s what users expect, and I see no rea­son not to stick with it.

About a thou­sand years of inter­net time ago (2010), reply­ing to a tweet from Twitter’s web­site re-used that top sta­tus box for the reply. The user clicked the “reply” but­ton, and the sta­tus box got pre-filled with “@” plus the user­name of the per­son they were reply­ing to. It looked like this:

Old Twitter Reply UI

Suc­cess­Whale, then solely a Twit­ter client, copied this behav­ior. Its reply UI involved click­ing a “reply” but­ton and hav­ing its main “pub­lish sta­tus update” box update with the replied-to user’s name, like this:

SuccessWhale version 1 Reply UI

Now Suc­cess­Whale is attempt­ing to be a Face­book client, too. On Twit­ter, replies to a sta­tus update are given vir­tu­ally the same promi­nence as the orig­i­nal sta­tus. On Face­book how­ever, posts are more thread-based, with com­ments on a sta­tus update clearly being daugh­ter objects of the orig­i­nal update. Sta­tus updates them­selves use “newest at the top” order, just like Twit­ter, but com­ments on an update are “newest at the bot­tom”. So on Face­book, it makes sense for the “reply” field to be inline, like this:

Facebook Reply UI

In play­ing around with the UI for Suc­cess­Whale ver­sion 2, I intro­duced an inline reply box, which works some­thing like this:

Successwhale version 2 Prototype Reply UI

A third reply UI was intro­duced with the new Twit­ter web­site — a float­ing “lightbox”-style reply area which appears when the “reply” but­ton is clicked. Like this:

New Twitter Reply UI

So, between the two sites that Suc­cess­Whale cur­rently talks to, we have three UI par­a­digms for reply­ing to a sta­tus update. I feel it is very impor­tant for Suc­cess­Whale to have a con­sis­tent UI for reply­ing, par­tic­u­larly when we intro­duce columns that mix updates from Twit­ter, Face­book and poten­tially other sources.

So, my ques­tion to Suc­cess­Whale users is: which one do you like best? I have no par­tic­u­lar attach­ment to any of them, so let’s get our democ­racy on. Your choice is between:

  1. Using the main sta­tus update box (like Suc­cess­Whale ver­sion 1 and old Twitter)
  2. Using an inline box (like Facebook)
  3. Using a pop-up ‘light­box’ (like new Twitter)

The com­ments are yours, vote away!

Adventures in the Diaspora Ghost Town

Dias­pora*, for those unaware, is a dis­trib­uted and privacy-conscious social net­work cur­rently in devel­op­ment by stu­dents at New York Uni­ver­sity. It raised $200,000 of fund­ing via Kick­starter back in June, and is cur­rently in alpha test­ing state. By virtue of my pseudowife’s dona­tion, we have been sent both the devel­oper pre­view soft­ware itself, and invites for the Dis­apora “pod” at joindiaspora.com.

For my first impres­sions, read on!

Set­tling Spores: The Devel­oper Preview

One of Diaspora’s strengths is that unlike cen­tralised social net­works such as Face­book, where all your con­tent is stored on their server, Dias­pora is dis­trib­uted. While you can have an account on joindiaspora.com, you can equally set up your own “pod” on your own domain, or even on a home PC, and it will link up and join the net­work. Users that do so are not second-class cit­i­zens, and there is noth­ing innately spe­cial about joindiaspora.com.

Except, of course, that it’s set up and work­ing already.

While I don’t doubt that I am tech­ni­cally capa­ble of set­ting up a Dias­pora pod, the instal­la­tion instruc­tions alone were enough to put me off. Take a look — it’s not for the faint of heart.

The ‘offi­cial way’ doesn’t look too com­pli­cated — except that I fall at the first hur­dle, “get your­self an IP and root pass­word to a Cen­tOS machine”. Well, I don’t have one, so that’s out. And even if I did, there’s the slightly omi­nous “you will need to edit con­fig files, etc.”, with no fur­ther explanation.

The rest of that doc­u­ment is the ‘non-official’ way. It merely requires that you set up and con­fig­ure a com­piler, libxml, libxslt, Ruby, Mon­goDB, OpenSSL, ImageMag­ick, git, Redis, RubyGems, and Bundler. And once you’re done with that, all you need to do is install the required gems, start Mon­goDB, edit Diaspora’s con­fig file, run the server, run the app server, run the web­socket and Redis servers, run the Resque worker, add user infor­ma­tion to the data­base, run the test frame­work, set the per­mis­sions on cer­tain direc­to­ries, then point your browser at your pod and log in. Simples!

It was 10pm when I started the pro­ce­dure, and about 10:03 when I decided I couldn’t be bothered.

It may have taken me until gone mid­night to set up, and given that an invite to joindiaspora.com was immi­nent, all I would get out of it would be being able to say I’d done it. Brag­ging rights aren’t much of an incentive.

With all those depen­den­cies, Dias­pora is also not going to be sup­ported by shared host­ing providers any time soon, so pig­gy­back­ing off onlydreaming.net wasn’t an option either.

Unless the instal­la­tion process is dras­ti­cally sim­pli­fied — made fool­proof, almost — and the depen­den­cies are reduced, very few peo­ple are going to be able to run their own pod. And that means there’s still the ques­tion of trust — just like we now have to trust Face­book not to be evil (whoops), with Dias­pora we also have to trust who­ever runs the pod we use.

Granted, this is a devel­oper pre­view, and true to form they have pro­vided some­thing that only devel­op­ers will be able to use. I’m not object­ing to that, I’m just hop­ing that some­where along the line they do have plans for mak­ing it some­thing that just about any­body can install for themselves.

Life in the Pod: Using Diaspora

Invite in hand, I dis­missed set­ting up my own pod and joined the main one at joindiaspora.com.

My first impres­sion? I can’t access it at all. Due to my browser.

Now I develop for the web; I under­stand what a pain in the arse Inter­net Explorer can be. It would be a great day for web design­ers if it just stopped exist­ing tomor­row. But the appro­pri­ate response to that is not to out­right bar it from your site.

I run six web­sites. None are quite as pol­ished as Dias­pora, but they have one thing in com­mon: they work in IE. Even IE6. Some­times a few things don’t look quite the same as in other browsers, but I’ve tried to work around those, and even in the worst case things fail grace­fully. And it’s only ever the appear­ance that feels a lit­tle dif­fer­ent; the func­tion­al­ity is unaffected.

Sure, I hate IE. But for me at the office, and for count­less other users, IE is not a choice we made. Out­right block­ing us from a web­site isn’t going to make us change our browsers and sud­denly see the light of standards-compliance. It’s just going to make us more bit­ter that we’re forced to use IE and more bit­ter that your site doesn’t have the decency to accept that.

Onwards. Back at home, run­ning a decent browser, I tried again. My sec­ond impression:

Dias­pora looks very pol­ished, with nice gra­di­ents on but­tons, drag-and-drop JavaScript and a nice walk­through to set up your account. A lot of thought has clearly gone into the inter­face, and it’s truly pleas­ant to use.

Groups, or “Aspects” in Dias­pora par­lance, are part of the core expe­ri­ence rather than some­thing bolted on the side as they are on Face­book. You can not only flick between them to see sta­tus updates only from peo­ple in those aspects — much like Twitter’s lists — but you can also post only to cer­tain aspects, too. This feels a lit­tle friend­lier than Twit­ter or Face­book, par­tic­u­larly if a friend­ship group have each set up an aspect con­tain­ing roughly the same peo­ple. ‘See every­thing’ / ‘post to every­body’ options are still avail­able, of course. Each friend can only be assigned to a sin­gle aspect — hope­fully this will change before Dias­pora is released, as at the moment there is no way for your social graph to rep­re­sent a friend who you know in two contexts.

Of course, this aspect struc­ture is all pretty mean­ing­less for now, because Dias­pora is a ghost town.

Pub­lic reg­is­tra­tion is dis­abled, and each user has 5 invites to dish out, so joindiaspora.com is grow­ing very slowly — by design, of course. But privacy-conscious Dias­pora offers no way of find­ing out if any of your exist­ing friends, on say Twit­ter or Face­book, have Dias­pora accounts. The only way to friend some­one is to know their Dias­pora user­name and pod address.

And while you can syn­di­cate posts from Dias­pora to Twit­ter and Face­book, there’s no way to pull data back in.

For it to be an enjoy­able expe­ri­ence rather than a min­i­mal­ist vir­tual ghost town, you need lots of friends post­ing lots of stuff. It’s the old ‘crit­i­cal mass’ prob­lem. If lots of peo­ple were using it heav­ily, other peo­ple would want to join. But while there’s only a few users who don’t post much, other poten­tial users are put off. Only by over­com­ing that gap, reach­ing crit­i­cal mass, can Dias­pora take off. And for that it needs an advan­tage, some­thing to pull peo­ple across to it.

It needs Twitter’s myr­iad of clients, mobile inter­faces, the recog­nis­abil­ity of “@username”. It needs Facebook’s groups, events, apps. I hate to say it, but it needs its Far­mville.

With­out that, I can’t see it tak­ing off on any major scale — it won’t be the much-desired “next Facebook”.

Maybe it doesn’t want to be? As always in the Open Source world, choice is good. Diaspora’s devel­op­ers saw a niche for some­thing, they got cod­ing and now they’re start­ing to fill it. Great! But I won­der how big that niche really is.

Dias­pora started with a focus on pri­vacy — a social net­work ‘done right’, where users’ data is pri­vate by default and is never served up to mar­ket­ing com­pa­nies. It’s a laud­able goal, but even for peo­ple like me who under­stand the impli­ca­tions of Face­book and Diaspora’s dif­fer­ing pri­vacy set­tings and busi­ness model, it’s not enough.

I know this arti­cle has been some­what of a downer, and I wish it wasn’t. I wish the devel­op­ers all the best, and I do hope that Dias­pora is the Next Big Thing. I’ll con­tinue to test it, and if I can, to help it get bet­ter. Once there’s an app API, who knows, maybe it’ll be me that writes Diaspora’s Far­mville.

But the sad state of online pri­vacy is this: Pri­vacy is not a fea­ture.

To beat Face­book, you have to be more fun than Face­book, not just better-designed and more ethical.

I and mil­lions of other users under­stand how Face­book treats our data, and wish apps weren’t allowed to auc­tion off the list of our sex­ual pref­er­ences to the high­est bid­der. But Face­book is so far beyond crit­i­cal mass that it can afford to keep us at a level where we hate it, but we don’t hate it enough to leave.

Raoul Moat and the Facebook of Lulz

For some unimag­in­able rea­son, two weeks and count­ing after the whole Raoul Moat busi­ness kicked off, it’s still plas­tered across the papers. Why? Because some­one cre­ated a Face­book trib­ute page. Face­book refused to take it down. Then the owner removed it. Then some­one made another one. Then the Prime Min­is­ter waded in. And one of Moat’s victims.

My ques­tion is, pre­dictably: why the hell is all this Face­book stuff news?

There is one rea­son and one rea­son only why these Face­book trib­ute groups exist: for the lulz.

Have the Prime Min­is­ter and the tabloid press not man­aged to grasp that there’s not really some sin­is­ter or deranged bunch of peo­ple behind this? Peo­ple join these groups for the lulz; because it’s funny. Do politi­cians really live in such a shel­tered world that they’ve never seen what’s out there on the internet?

The inter­net is context-free inter­ac­tion, a world where you can’t see your friends’ reac­tions or even know if they’ve seen a noti­fi­ca­tion of you join­ing a group. It’s a sin­gle click to join, whether you’re doing it because you believe in the cause or whether you just found it funny. It’s a world where peo­ple try to take down reli­gions just because the idea amuses them. It’s a world where nobody really cares; where “Seri­ous Busi­ness” is only ever used sarcastically.

Gov­ern­ment, media — get­ting offended by Raoul Moat’s Face­book fan club just makes you look ridicu­lous. It’s not just the inter­net you seem not to under­stand, it’s a whole aspect of human nature that comes to the fore in that kind of envi­ron­ment. Hell knows, if Cameron hit the roof about a Raoul Moat trib­ute group, what the hell is he going to do when he finds /b/? They’ll be scrap­ing him off the walls!

I have no mas­sive expec­ta­tion of the most pow­er­ful to gov­ern in a way which every­one would recog­nise as fair and just. But at the very least, can we not expect those in power to under­stand the peo­ple they represent?