The Internet is one of humanity’s most transformative inventions – a web connecting billions of us to limitless knowledge, endless opportunities, and, paradoxically, each other’s worst instincts. It is an unparalleled force multiplier. Yet, instead of amplifying the best in us, it often elevates the worst. Social media platforms, those digital marketplaces of opinions, emotions, and egos, have increasingly become masters at exploiting our instinctive selves, leaving our reflective selves gasping for air. The question is no longer whether this can be fixed, but whether we’re ready to take the responsibility to fix it.

Our instinctive and reflective selves, as Daniel Kahneman elucidated in Thinking, Fast and Slow, operate on two different systems. The instinctive self reacts quickly, emotionally, and often defensively. The reflective self, by contrast, takes its time, weighs options, and seeks understanding. In many ways, the Internet has become a playground for the former, leaving little room for the latter. And that’s precisely where, in my humble opinion, the problem lies.

Imagine an Internet that serves as a conduit for generosity rather than a battlefield for attention. Imagine a space where the guiding question shifts from “What can I get from this?” to “What can I give to this?” Such a transformation requires effort, not just from the platforms that govern our digital interactions but from us, the users who fuel them.

Let’s start with us. It’s easy to blame the algorithms, the platforms, or even “big tech” for the chaos we often see online. But the truth is, every time we click, comment, or share, we’re complicit. Cultivating healthy online habits isn’t about boycotting social media but about engaging with intentionality. The next time you’re tempted to scroll mindlessly, pause and ask yourself: Am I consuming or contributing? The Internet doesn’t need more noise; it needs more voices of reason, empathy, and generosity.

That brings us to the platforms themselves. These aren’t malevolent conspiracies designed to enslave us; they’re colossal screwups born of poorly aligned incentives. Social media companies have prioritized “eyeball hours” over user satisfaction, engineering their products to prey on our instincts rather than nurture our reflections. Fixing this isn’t just about moral responsibility; it’s a business imperative. After all, a burnt-out, disillusioned user base benefits no one.

So, what can they do? For starters, platforms must publicly prioritize user well-being over engagement metrics. The true measure of success isn’t how long users stay glued to their screens but how much value they derive from their time online. Second, again, in my humble opinion, anonymity, a double-edged sword in the digital world, needs rethinking. While it serves as a lifeline for those under oppressive situations and/or regimes, it has also become a shield for trolls and bullies. Requiring identity verification, facilitated in a thoughtful and meaningful way, for mainstream use could foster accountability and civility without silencing those who genuinely need anonymity.

Equally critical is product design. Imagine social media algorithms that don’t just reward outrage and controversy but actively encourage reflective behavior. Artificial intelligence, often blamed for deepening divisions, could instead amplify voices of reason, highlight acts of kindness, and foster thoughtful dialogue. It’s not just about coding differently; it’s about thinking differently.

Of course, change is hard, and cynics might argue it’s impossible. After all, negativity sells, outrage spreads, and kindness, well, doesn’t trend. But that’s a narrative we’ve allowed to persist, not an unchangeable truth. Anything that triggers an emotional response can go viral. And, I would content that generosity is as emotional as anger, if not more. It just takes more effort. Doing good online requires thought, creativity, and persistence, but the impact can be profound.

The Internet doesn’t have to be only a space where people clash over differences or compete for attention. It can also be a place where goodness becomes contagious, where kindness isn’t boring, and where generosity sparks a ripple effect of change. I strongly believe that there is a whole generation out there ready to embrace an Internet that brings out the best in us. All it takes is intention, both from those who design the platforms and those who use them.

The antidote to instinct isn’t avoidance; it’s reflection. The path to a better Internet isn’t paved with blame; it’s built on contribution. And the work of transformation isn’t a solo endeavor; it’s a team sport.

The Internet doesn’t have to remain a mirror of our worst impulses. It can be a beacon of what’s possible when we choose to lead with our reflective selves. The question isn’t whether this is achievable. The question is whether we’re willing to do the work to make it so.