Cash for Likes: Compensating Social Media Content?

Should social media users get paid for the content they create?* If so, how would that work?

Every day, billions of people use social media. And while many people are relatively passive consumers -- scrolling, liking, interacting with friends --  millions of people are actively creating content. 

And every year, corporations rake in billions of dollars because of this content. The obvious players own the platforms: Facebook (Instagram), Google (YouTube), TikTok. But the corporations that use the platforms for advertising often make billions as well. 

Is it fair that these companies make billions of dollars even though they aren't creating any of the valuable content? Are the services they provide really worth billions of dollars? Are the users really entitled to none of that wealth? 

Some would argue that this is simply the free market at work. The companies provide useful services, and users freely give up their time and labor to enjoy them. 

But others, who are more critical of capitalism, might smell exploitation. In other words, there is a massive labor force producing valuable content, and they are getting nearly nothing for it. [1] Even those with millions of followers struggle to capitalize on their influence. 

Why aren't the people actually creating the content getting a piece of the action? 

One reason is that we haven't been demanding it. Well, actually, some people, including Andrew Yang and California Governor Gavin Newsom, have called for big tech companies to share the wealth, like through a "data dividend." But they are focused on the value of data, not content.

And some content creators, including young Black women, still struggle to get even basic recognition for the trends they start, let alone compensation.  

There are reasons creators should demand compensation for content. 

For one, the quality of today's content is incredible. If you've spent more than 5 minutes scrolling through TikTok you likely appreciate what I mean. People -- and especially young people -- are making truly amazing content. Constantly. Hilarious memes, flawless TikToks, breathtaking Instagram posts, insightful YouTube videos. 

Second, this content is valuable. All of this incredible content (and even mediocre content) drives user traffic. And traffic drives advertising revenue for the corporations. 

Third, it's real labor. It takes time to produce content. And that content has value. No compensation means unpaid labor. That's unjust. Especially when many of the content creators are from marginalized groups. 

So let's pretend we all agree that social media users deserve just compensation for the content they post.  How could that actually work? 

There are countless ways to imagine a compensation scheme. One that makes sense to me is micro-transactions. Basically, users could get paid by the interaction or view. In other words, you could get paid by the like. 

This might turn out to be a tiny fraction of a cent per interaction. So, for many users, it would be a negligible amount. But for others, it could amount to something substantial. The details would need to be worked out so that the compensation seems just to those involved. 

Of course, this payment scheme has its problems and potentially leads to issues similar to those in the gig economy (for example, undermining hard-fought worker protections and trapping workers in a precarious existence). And being an influencer is not an easy job. We shouldn't take the risks of underpayment and exploitation lightly. 

But for the millions of people currently making content and getting little or nothing for it, the micro-transaction system could be a way to share in the wealth they are creating. 

That begs the question: Who would pay? 

As I see it, there are at least five options: 

1) The advertisers pay. In this model, companies pay based on being tagged. For example, you go on a hike, take a picture at the summit, and tag Patagonia. Then, if Patagonia approves your post, you get credit from Patagonia based on the number of interactions your post gets. Kind of like everyone is an influencer. Of course, this would require that you tag businesses, which might be unappealing to some users. And obviously, there would be ways to game the system. 

2) The platform pays. This is profit-sharing with the users. So, a company like Facebook would basically be sharing a percentage of its profits to the people who created the content. Again, this could be based on interactions, likes, views, etc. In fact, this has been tried before, although unsuccessfully. 

3) The platform is user-owned. This is the cooperative business model. Users own the business, so they share in the profits. This one certainly has huge barriers, because Google and Facebook aren't likely to go cooperative any time soon. And competing with the big players isn't very realistic. Still, it's a fun idea. 

4) The users pay. A subscription-based model. Like Spotify. Users pay a subscription fee (say, ~$10/month), and then the monthly payments would go to the content creators. Actually, the general idea behind Spotify is a pretty useful model. But, importantly, note that many artists are underpaid and exploited because of Spotify's payment formula. Ideally, a fair social media platform would devote much more of the subscription money to paying content creators. 

5) A combination of the above ideas. There's no reason these ideas need to be isolated. In fact, two, three, or four could potentially operate on the same platform. And that might be the best bet for ensuring that users get fairly compensated for their creative output. 

Of course, it's not all cherries and ice cream. There is criticism of the idea of compensation for social media use. [2] Some people have pointed out issues with getting paid for social media content, like the risks of people gaming the system by creating markets for fake followers and likes, etc. But this already happens, and somehow companies still manage to find legit influencers to pay. Surely, these are not intractable issues. For example, one could imagine a secure validation process that one could opt in to in order to begin receiving payments for content. 

The bottom line is this: Social media users deserve compensation for the content they create. They deserve a share of the wealth that is being created. But this won't happen unless we demand it. 

*As with much of my other writing, I am grateful to Latrel Powell and Nick Bachman for their insights and perspectives. 

[1] I know, I know, there are lots of YouTubers and influencers who make money through sponsors, ads, donations, etc. -- but the vast majority make hardly anything: 97.5% of YouTubers don't make enough money to reach the U.S. poverty line.  

[2] For example, this article argues that anything which weakens the "network effect" (a network gaining more value as more people use it) is a bad idea because paying value creators could lead to weakening the network effect. Because, for example, people would game the system and create less desirable interactions. However, this argument overlooks the fact that exploitation of free labor can also go hand-in-hand with increasing the network effect. And that is a serious concern. In other words, the "network effect" is not a useful ethical principle -- it's a description of a pattern. 

The Right to Party: Why Partying is Political

The Politics of Partying 

This past weekend we threw a dance party. During the preparations, I found myself feeling conflicted: Is partying ethically responsible? Is it an entitled and privileged activity to engage in? Is it an individualistic, selfish, and immature pursuit? Are there better ways I could be spending my time and energy? 

Fortunately, I resolved most of these concerns by the time I was pouring the first shots of tequila for the night. Then we partied and danced until the sun came up. And it was a total blast. 

The night of dancing and partying also confirmed most of my thoughts from earlier in the day: Partying is political. That's what I decided while I was wandering the aisles of Walmart looking for frozen french fries and plastic cups (I know, the irony...). Of course, this probably isn't news to many of you: examples of parties with a political nature abound, from Burning Man to the Notting Hill Carnival in the U.K. to nightlife at LBTQ bars in New York City in the 1980s, to name just a few. 

I should also clarify that partying only can be political; it is not necessarily so. That's because partying can also be apolitical or even toxic. In college, I engaged in some decidedly toxic partying. It was exclusive and created unsafe spaces of toxic masculinity and white privilege. That said, with some intention, inclusivity, and respect for others, partying can be healthy, political, and transformative. 

But first, I have to wonder why I even feel the need to rationalize partying at all? There are plenty of other things I do that I don't feel the need to rationalize (or at least not to the same extent), like hiking or reading. So why do I feel like I need to justify staying up late and dancing with friends? 

Sadly, at some point in my life, the term "party" acquired a negative connotation for me. I developed an unhealthy relationship with partying. Not that I partied too much; actually the opposite. Partying somehow shifted from something joyful and free to something that needed to be earned, rationed, and justified. It now largely holds a sort of secondary position to "work" for myself and many others.  

But it doesn't have to be like this. Partying is political. And we have a right to party. Some might even say "You gotta fight for your right to party."  

There are at least 12 distinct ways in which I understand partying as political: 

    1. Partying builds community 

Partying builds community because it brings people together. It provides a shared space and a shared experience people can bond over. It often transcends many of the other segregating aspects of society, like age, occupation, workplace, private property, etc. 

    2. Partying builds revolutionary and organizing skills

 

When people party, they collaborate and coordinate; they plan and communicate and pool resources and gather supplies and materials. During a party itself, there is constant feedback and communication: Should we turn the music up? Turn the lights down? Move into this room? Go outside? Countless small decisions get made during the course of a party, and many of these happen collectively. 

There is also inevitably conflict, and people get to practice conflict resolution in what can be (although certainly is not always) a relatively safe and positive space. All of these skills are transferrable to revolutionary and community organizing activities. And, of course, partying and revolution are not mutually exclusive!

    3. Partying creates space for expression 

Dancing, late-night cooking, singing, playing music, cracking jokes, telling stories, and just letting loose. All of these types of expression can happen in the right party atmosphere. Self-expression is political in a repressed society. As one artist put it: "The act of being who you are is a political way of saying 'fuck you.'" A classic example of this is through punk music and its associated party scene -- which often involve political expression, because "issues in equality, justice, and hegemonic cultural standards are explored and prodded..." [1] 

Or, as the musician and activist Andrew W.K. has said: "You have to let the full spectrum of behaviors find a place in that party. No good party should be so strict as to allow only one emotion. No good party is one-dimensional."

    4. Partying can challenge social norms and marginalization 

Partying has the potential to disrupt dominant social norms and expectations, especially those placed on young people and people from marginalized groups. In her fantastic book, Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments, Saidiya Hartman tells the stories of radical young women of color in Philadelphia and New York at the beginning of the twentieth century. Under conditions of marginalization and oppression, these girls, women, and radicals pursued their desires and forged new intimate relationships and complex social lives. 

Hartman brings alive an account of these "beautiful experiments -- to make living an art..." and illuminates "the radical imagination and everyday anarchy of ordinary colored girls." [2] Of course, I don't mean to equate my (white, male) experience of partying with the incredible, radical, and complex lives of the women of color described by Hartman. But I do think that the narratives Hartman weave show the radical potential of socializing and fulfilling one's desires, especially in an environment where external forces attempt to repress one's identity and desires. 

    5. Partying challenges binaries 

Binaries are central to the Western heteropatriarchy (e.g. man/woman, straight/gay, work/play, good/evil, mind/body, etc.). Put simply: binaries are a powerful way to control and confine people; patriarchy takes up space and limits people's identities. 

Partying creates a space where binaries can be challenged: People can explore their sexuality and disrupt sexual orientation binaries; drag parties call gender binaries into question; the day/night binary blurs during all-night dance parties; the work/play dichotomy falls apart as people network and organize on a Saturday night over drinks; the stranger/friend binary breaks down as people become comfortable with others they've just met. In a society dominated by the enforcement of binaries, parties can catalyze resistance and disruption. 

    6. Partying challenges conventional ideas about work and productivity

I've grown up thinking that "work is good." That being "productive" is the right thing to do. Basically, the Protestant work ethic. But partying challenges this, because parties are usually not considered "productive" by the mainstream. Commitment to partying -- to making the time to enjoy the sensuous aspects of life and actively seek pleasure in a social setting -- is political, especially when it means reducing the amount of time spent "working." Because of course partying can be "productive," depending on how one defines "productivity." For example, it can increase health and wellbeing to move your body and be social. 

    7. Partying is non-hierarchical and democratic

All of my favorite parties I've been to have been essentially non-hierarchical. There is no authoritarian rule-maker; no policies or rules or bouncers or coercion of any kind. The best parties (in my experience) have all been basically anarchist. A group of people gets together and collectively, democratically, decides what to do, how to do it, what actions are appropriate, when someone crosses the line, etc. Everyone's voice and participation are welcome; the will of the group and the energy in the room shape what happens next. Parties can be a beautiful model of decentralized governance, and of non-hierarchical, democratic social systems. 

    8. Partying is inclusive

At its best, partying can be radically inclusive. Do away with guest lists, dress codes, and other forms of exclusion, and continually try to increase the sphere of participation. In its most committed form, this radical inclusivity is unconditional; whoever shows up gets in. This is the kind of inclusivity that challenges political boundaries and makes radical transformation possible. This kind of openness invites challenging conversations and interactions. It creates real possibilities for new connections and breaking down social barriers. 

    9. Partying is pleasurable

For the most part, conflicting moral feelings aside, my experiences of partying have been distinctly pleasurable. But why should we bother with pleasure? Is pleasure just hedonism? Or is there something else at work? Is there a place for pleasure and partying in the revolution? 

Murray Bookchin defines pleasure as "the satisfaction of our desires, of our intellectual, esthetic, sensuous and playful 'daydreams'." [3] Bookchin claims that "it is precisely in this utopostic quest for pleasure...that humanity begins to gain its most sparkling glimpse of emancipation." [4] He explains that if this quest for pleasure is carried to the social realm, and beyond individual hedonism, we begin to "enter the realm of freedom -- a realm conceived, as the full realization of humanity's potentialities in their most creative form." [5] 

In other words, the quest for pleasure, pursued at a social level, can be liberating because it carries us toward creativity and freedom. Contrast this creative, social, pleasurable vision with a life dominated by work and toil -- a life which many in our society currently live. 

    10. Partying challenges capitalist forms of entertainment and the commodification of joy 

Partying can be done with relatively few resources: a space and some music, for example. The fact that 50 people can get together in a park or a house and have a ripping good time, with almost no other monetary costs, calls into question capitalist entertainment. Why spend $75 at Dave and Busters when you can get together with friends at someone's house? Why fly to Hawaii for pleasure when all your friends and family are here and ready to party? Partying, done in a consciously political and low-resource way, can disrupt the commodification of joy. We can do it on our own. 

    11. Partying can promote sharing and generosity 

In a society that is generally so dedicated to private property and wealth accumulation, partying can be a special opportunity to practice generosity. People often bring gifts or food or drink to parties to be enjoyed collectively. Someone brings a bowl of guac or a case of kombucha, and they don't typically worry about who is taking what. The gift is there to be used and enjoyed by all. In this way, partying can show us how freeing and joyful it can be to live generously. 

    12. Partying and political protesting often go together 

Michelle Lhooq writes that "...historically, the lines between partying and protesting have always been blurry." She cites examples like Reclaim the Streets, a direct-action movement against corporate globalization in the '90s which drew from rave culture, and all-night rave demonstrations in Lebanon in 2019. These examples show how parties can be a fun and effective tactic for resistance and demanding awareness and change. 

So, in conclusion: We have a right to pleasure. We have a right to happiness. Not mere contentment, or having our basic needs met; we have a right to real joy -- something that is exceedingly rare in our society [6]. We have a right to party.  

[1]Dillon Patrick Henry, Protest and Survive: A Brief History and Analysis of the Politics of Punk. Diss. University of Missouri--Kansas City, p. 3 (2018). 

[2] Saidiya Hartman, Wayward Lives, Beautiful Experiments, p. xiv (2019). 

[3] Murray Bookchin, The Ecology of Freedom, p. 74 (2005). 

[4] Id. 

[5] Id. 

[6] Jean Liedloff, The Continuum Concept, p. 148 (1977).