Zuckerberg's mea culpa - more strategy than sincerity

Mark Zuckerberg’s Meta has spent years manipulating algorithms to suppress dissent and inconvenient truths. Now, Zuckerberg wants us to believe he’s turned over a new leaf. “Community notes” is his supposed act of contrition—replacing Meta’s infamous “fact-checkers” with what he’s touting as a democratic approach to truth.

The changes will affect Facebook, Instagram and Threads - social media platforms with more than 3 billion users globally. Zuckerberg says the purpose is to outsource fact-checking to the people and let the collective wisdom determine what’s true.

Users can add context or clarification to posts, which won’t vanish into algorithmic oblivion but will instead bear appended “notes” offering a more balanced view.

So, has Zuckerberg suddenly grown a conscience? Hardly. This is less about soul-searching and more about political expediency. We’re meant to believe this is some heartfelt mea culpa, a humbling moment for a company that “got it wrong.”

But to me, this feels insincere. Pure public relations - a cynical scramble to navigate shifting political winds. Meta isn’t repenting; it’s repositioning. After all, this is the same platform that orchestrated an era of unparalleled online censorship, silencing inconvenient truths under the guise of “misinformation control.”

Remember the Biden laptop story? An exposé conveniently buried before the 2020 election because it didn’t fit the desired narrative. Zuckerberg himself admitted to suppressing the story after pressure from the FBI. But that wasn’t an isolated incident.

Over the last four years, Facebook has been the digital embodiment of Orwell’s Ministry of Truth. Articles questioning the efficacy of masks, the lab leak theory, or COVID-19 vaccine safety were flagged, shadow-banned, or outright erased. Entire communities of vaccine-injured individuals—desperate for support and answers—were wiped off the platform. Real lives were affected; people were isolated. Conversations that could have saved lives were silenced. It’s no exaggeration to say Facebook has blood on its hands.

One example of Meta’s overreach involved The BMJ. Paul Thacker’s piece on Pfizer whistleblower Brook Jackson which highlighted data integrity issues at a few of Pfizer’s vaccine trial sites, was slapped with a label by Facebook, effectively discrediting it. This wasn’t just heavy-handed; it was a brazen suppression of credible journalism. An open letter from The BMJ’s editors to Meta rightly lambasted the organisation for trying to discredit the vetted information. The damage wasn’t limited to stifling discourse; it eroded public trust in both science and media.

As recently as August 2024, Zuckerberg admitted to the House Judiciary Committee that Meta had been coerced by the government to censor Americans. His letter detailed relentless pressure to silence dissenting views on COVID-19, elections, and more. And yet, despite this supposed epiphany about governmental overreach, Facebook continued censoring content right up until its recent pivot to community notes.

Zuckerberg’s newfound candour isn’t transparency; it’s pre-emptive blame-shifting. The Murthy v. Missouri (formerly Missouri v Biden) case has exposed the collusion between tech giants and government officials to suppress online speech. Allegations that the Biden administration pressured platforms to bury certain viewpoints—even when factually accurate—paint a chilling picture. Facebook’s narrative of victimhood feels like a calculated attempt to deflect legal and public scrutiny.

Meanwhile, there are ‘journalists’ in legacy media who are mourning the loss of fact-checkers as though democracy itself is under siege. What kind of journalist defends a system that stifles free speech and debate? Science thrives on questioning and open dialogue, not the orthodoxy imposed by fact-checkers operating with opaque agendas. Their hand-wringing isn’t about truth—it’s about losing control of the narrative.

And now, as the political tide shifts and the Biden administration’s influence wanes, Meta suddenly finds the courage to air its grievances about government meddling. Convenient, isn’t it? Zuckerberg’s newfound spine is less about principle and more about positioning Meta for survival in a new political landscape.

Let’s be real. Community notes is not altruism - it’s damage control. Meta isn’t addressing the harm it caused—it’s deflecting. The platform’s censorship caused real-world consequences: vaccine-injured people left voiceless, critical public health debates silenced, and public trust shattered. If Meta was truly contrite, it would compensate for the damage, support those it deplatformed, and restore erased communities – even compensate those with vaccine injuries who were silenced.

Don’t get me wrong – I think dumping fact-checkers was the right move and its a win for free speech - it just should have happened sooner, and Zuckerberg shouldn’t be let off the hook. Meta’s track record suggests this is just another calculated move.

For years, Facebook wielded its influence with recklessness, deciding who could speak and what could be said. Now, as the tide turns, it wants to rebrand as a champion of open dialogue and transparency. But the damage is done. The trust is broken. And no amount of community notes can erase the scars left by Meta’s years of suppressing truth.

Mark Zuckerberg might try to rewrite history, but history won’t forget.

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